Page 78 of Vicious Intentions

I steepled my fingers, my elbows resting on the thick leather arms as I studied him. “My father was a quiet man, very reserved. He almost never showed his frustration or anger. However, when he was forced to do so, anyone facing his wrath knew to be terrified. He had his share of enemies, like any wealthy businessman. When I learned how he kept them under control, I gave all my respect to him, even though we weren’t particularly close. I was proud and happy that he took the time to show me how he managed to build such a powerful empire.”

As Marty slipped the needle under Bart’s index finger, it took only two seconds before the man reacted.

I waved the soldier off, giving Bart an opportunity to recover and reconsider. After the man howled for a full ten seconds, he glared at me, panting like a dog. “What… do you… want?”

“It’s often the little things in life that cause so much pleasure. And pain. A name, Bart. I want to know who is determined to make my life and that of my friends a living hell.”

“I can’t fucking tell you.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’ll die.” Bart finally started struggling, his face turning red. There was no doubt he was afraid of what the man would do.

“I assure you, Bart, that if you don’t tell me what I want to do, you’ll wish you were dead.”

He twisted his mouth but it didn’t seem as if he was going to say anything. I motioned to Marty again and he returned to a task I could tell he enjoyed. Sighing, I rubbed my eyes as Bart expressed his displeasure.

“Enough,” I said after a full minute. “You have one last opportunity to tell me what I want to know. Who is the man determined to bring us down?”

Tears were running out of his eyes, his shirt soaked from sweat. I’d forgotten just how effective the method could be. Suddenly, I needed a shower from the stench in the room.

“Listen,” he finally managed to say. “Not… Not…”

This was getting ridiculous. “Not what, Bart?” I nodded to Marty and all he needed to do was hold the needle up to Bart’s face.

“It’s not a man. It’s a woman.”

As he was yelling the words, a text came through, and I pulled my phone into my hand, reading the message.

Then I lifted my head towards Cain, then to Cristiano, both grabbing their phones.

She’s alive…

CHAPTER 21

Rose

There was no such thing as too much information. It was the lack of details that created nightmares. I should know, since the demons I was fighting were clawing the earth beneath my feet in a desperate attempt to free themselves.

I felt as if I was locked inside a vacuum, and it was slowly sucking the life out of me. I had no idea how I’d gotten through the performance, not that I remembered much about it. My hands were shaking as I tried to slide the card into the key slot, dropping it once before managing success.

Before I walked inside, I tipped my head over my shoulder. One of Cain’s men had stood watching over me in the auditorium, ready to attack anyone who bothered me. I’d had to push him off a dumb and very drunk guy who’d jumped on stage to paw me. He was lucky Brock hadn’t tossed him against the wall.

“You don’t need to stay,” I told him.

“I follow orders, ma’am. I’m not leaving.”

“Okay.” I walked inside, taking a deep breath before closing and locking the door. I had no idea when the three men would be back, but I wanted to find out everything I could about what had happened to me and who they were before they did. I’d never felt so anxious in my life, as if I was standing on a precipice of a mountain, staring down into a murky bottomless abyss.

I also had the feeling my life was spiraling out of control.

After pouring a glass of wine, I grabbed my laptop, yanking it into my hands and placing it on the coffee table next to the wilted roses from the first night. As I waited for the computer to boot up, I picked at the petals, pulling a few off one at a time and placing them on the table. They were still soft as well as fragrant, which surprised me.

Red petals.

I closed my eyes and could see a room. A nightstand. And a single petal. What the hell? Then I heard voices inside my head.

“I think someone has been in our suite more than once.” I was standing in front of a nightstand speaking. There was someone with me.

---