Page 45 of Shame

Eric glances at Christian and raises an eyebrow, then they motion toward a door in the closest building.

“In there.”

I pull it open for them and they carelessly throw their captive on the dirty concrete floor. A pungent smell of oil and dirt assaults my nose. Christian disappears back out as I feel for a light switch. Just as I find it and a flickering fluorescent light illuminates the room, Christian returns with a baseball bat. The door slams shut behind him and we all stand in silence for a few moments. Christian taps the bat repeatedly against the floor.

“What’d he do?” I look at Eric and then at Christian.

Eric shrugs. “Annoyed the boss.”

Christian hands me the bat. “Make him regret he was ever born.”

I glance at the slumped form on the floor, at my two partners, then I lift the bat.

I don’t go back to the soft, warm woman who is waiting in her bed for me, at eight o’clock, no doubt wondering where I went to. I go to my barely used apartment. I haven’t slept here for a week. It reeks of old socks and unwashed dishes. There’s blood on my hands, spatters on my clothes and face.

I still don’t know what the guy did, but it doesn’t matter. We do what we’re told. I just gotta get used to it. I didn't throw up this time. I didn’t flinch or hesitate. I broke a significant amount of bones in his body and at some point during the beating, he took his last breath. His face is too mangled to be recognized. I smashed his teeth and Christian cut off his fingertips. Then we dumped him in the ocean. It’ll take a while for him to be identified whenever he’s found. As we left the harbor, the workers were beginning to trickle in to load and unload cargo from the boats.

My head spins as I start a shower, running it as hot as humanly possible. I watch the water as it floods down the drain, streaks of blood discoloring the white tiles. I’m so tired I could fall asleep standing. Apart from the bloody images on my retina, one thing in particular plays on repeat in my mind. As I dropped off Christian outside his place, he patted me on my back and told me to come take a beer at Salvatore’s tonight. I drove off with goosebumps running down my back. I’m in. I’m fucking in.

Finally.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Carmen

We walk right into it. Lucas holds his arm around my waist, he tickles me and I give out a silly-sounding giggle-snort at which he barks out a laugh. Still laughing, we round the corner to enter the kitchen and freeze. There, in the flesh, sits Salvatore with a half-empty bottle of whisky in front of him on the table. His scent fills the room and it throws me right back into the nightmares I’ve endured by his hands. He’s dressed in a tight black T-shirt, the muscles in his arms bulging where the sleeves end, black jeans and boots. Holding a glass in his hand, he’s slowly swirling the amber content. Around and around. Matron is standing, her arms crossed over her chest, leaning against the counter. Both look up as we appear.

Salvatore’s pitch-black eyes narrow as he meets mine. He zooms in on me, and I feel like a deer caught in headlights, then they dart over to Lucas, before they drop down to the arm he holds around my waist. My heart rate skyrockets. Lucas lets me go as if he burnt himself. I swallow hard. The skin on my back shrinks, tingles. I get phantom pains from where the monster hurt me.

He doesn’t move a muscle, but I see how it hits home, how he realizes we’re together and how he immediately makes plans for how to use that against us. He sees it as a weakness he can exploit. This was the worst thing that could ever happen.

The survival instinct in me kicks to life. I take a step back, and pinch Lucas’ shirt, pulling it, trying to wake him from his trance. We need to move.

Lucas isn’t having it. He takes a step into the kitchen and tilts his head in a greeting, casually, as if stumbling over ruthless mafia bosses in the middle of the night is the most natural thing in the world.

“Matron, Boss. We interrupting something? We’re just getting a couple of sandwiches.” His deep voice is even, calm and controlled.

I remain frozen in the door opening. Lucas strides forward and gets two slices of bread, butter, ham and cheese. Whistling, he spreads the butter, and puts slices of ham and cheese on the bread. He takes his time. I stare at him in disbelief, realizing how little I know about him. How can he be so cool? What is his relationship with Salvatore? Are they closer than I know? Can I trust Lucas? Suddenly, I don’t know anything.

Salvatore has straightened his legs, crossing them at the ankles, and put his hands behind his head. Whatever conversation he and Matron had, they’ve gone quiet. He has an amused expression on his face that makes me want to throw up. He’s plotting. I know it.

“Looks like you’re thriving, Carmen. How nice to see you again. What’s it been? A month? That’s too long.”

I jerk when he addresses me. “Wish I could say the same.” I could bite off my tongue. My mouth has a fucking life of its own.

Two pairs of eyes stare at me in horror. Lucas has stopped what he’s doing, his hands frozen mid-air. Salvatore doesn’t look bothered at all. In his gaze there’s a promise, or a threat, of what’s to come. He’s telling me wordlessly, for only me to understand, that he’s not done with me.

He barks out a laugh as I spin on my heels and storm back up to my room, slamming the door closed behind me. I’m a mess as I pace back and forth, wearing down the floorboards, and jump a mile when Lucas shows up a little while later, carrying a tray with two cups of tea and two sandwiches. He frowns when he sees me, puts down the tray and closes his arms around me.

“Hey, babe. It’s not the end of the world.”

I push away, wrestling out of his grip. “It is! It’s a disaster! How can’t you see that? How could you be so calm!”

“Look, I couldn’t show him weakness. He’d pounce on us ruthlessly. I’ve got your back, honey. Relax.” He frowns as he studies me.

We’ve had this exact discussion too many times by now. He doesn’t have my back. No one has. Matron tried to talk to Salvatore, telling him to stop abusing me, or any of her girls. All he did was offer her more money, much more money for the loss of income. I wish she hadn’t told me. It makes me feel even more like meat, like the merchandise I am.

I put away the cup of tea Lucas hands me and snuggle into his warm embrace. “Come.”

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