The Sacrificial Lamb (17 page)

“Where on earth did you come up with that idea?” he said in a tired voice. Domenic scrubbed his face with his hands before running them through his disheveled hair.

“I don’t know,” she replied in a small voice. “Too many movies?”

His mouth twitched, and he shook his head back and forth. “Alex, I didn’t bring you here to kill you.”

“Even if you did, would you admit it?” she retorted hotly.

“I would have put a bullet in your brain by now, if that was my intention,” he said pointedly. His brutal statement of fact shocked her, and he nodded at her expression.

Then Domenic did something she didn’t expect. He walked past her to the door, disabled the alarm, and opened it. Standing in the doorway he made a gesture with his hand, indicating she was able to leave if she wanted to.

“You aren’t my prisoner, Alexis. If you want to leave, then you can. I’ll even give you my car keys and directions to the nearest police department.”

“You’d let me leave?”

“Yes.”

“And you wouldn’t try to stop me?”

“No.”

Alex stared at Domenic for a moment and decided whether she should call his bluff. “Fine,” she said, “get me your car keys.”

Domenic’s chest puffed out, and his face turned a dull red as he slammed the door shut. “Are you fucking crazy?” he yelled.

“See? I
knew
you wouldn’t let me go!”

“Let you go? You’re lucky I don’t tie you to a goddamned piece of furniture!” he shouted, glaring at her. “I risked my
life
for you—to protect you! I risked my family! And you just want to walk out the door as if there isn’t a target painted on your fucking forehead?”

“Why do you
care?”
she yelled back. “Why are you doing this, Domenic?”

All the fight left him as quickly as it came, and he seemed to shrink before her eyes, shoulders slumping in exhaustion. “I don’t know.”

Domenic walked toward the couch and sat down heavily. Leaning forward, he hung his head and dangled his hands between his knees. Alex stared at him and then went to sit down as well. She perched on the opposite end of the sofa from him and waited for him to speak.

“I don’t know why,” he said again. “I couldn’t sit back and let them kill you.”

“Wow. I was right. It’s kind of a shock to hear you say it out loud.” She shuddered, thankful she was out of harm’s reach, even temporarily. It was also a shock to realize that she
was
safe. Alex no longer thought Domenic had brought her here to kill her and was ashamed she had tried to escape. Then a thought occurred to her, “What makes me different?”

“Different?”

“Yeah. I assume you’ve seen other people die? So why them but not me?”

Domenic looked at her hesitantly, obviously weighing how much he should tell her. “Yes, I’ve seen people die before, Alexis. But they were all guilty of
something
.”

“And that made it right?”

“Perhaps not right, but more so than killing an innocent girl.”

Alex bristled at his use of the word girl. “I’m not a child, you know.”

“Yes, I know,” Domenic said. His eyes blazed, and she remembered the brief kiss they had shared earlier that evening.

Unconsciously, she rubbed her fingers across her lips and Domenic’s eyes zeroed in on the movement. She hastily dropped her hand, but the moment wasn’t broken. Neither of them spoke. Their gazes remained locked on one another, and she found that she couldn’t look away. The air between them seemed heavy with unspoken anticipation. Anticipation of what, Alex wasn’t quite sure.

“Do you still think I want to kill you?” Domenic asked, breaking the silence.

“No.”

“Can we can go to bed now?”

“Pardon?” she asked, positive she hadn’t heard him right.

“To bed.” His lips quirked up in a naughty grin, and Alex wondered if she had misheard him after all. “I don’t know about you, but I am completely exhausted.”

“Oh…um…right,” she stammered. “Yeah, I’m pretty tired too.”

“You’re not going to try to run away again, are you?” Domenic asked, looking at her with a very serious expression on his face.

“No.”

“Good.” He walked to the door and enabled the alarm again.

“That’s it? Good? You trust me, just like that?”

Domenic shrugged one shoulder. “Yes.” He walked to the table where his gun lay, picked it up, and headed to his room. At the door he stopped and looked over his shoulder. “It also helps that you don’t know how to disable the alarm.” With an infuriatingly smug smile and a wink, he stepped into his room and shut the door behind him.

After all the excitement, Alex was sure she wouldn’t be able to fall asleep, but she collapsed into oblivion. She tried in vain to keep her eyes open so she could think about what had happened out there, but it was impossible. At least the fight-or-flight reflex had abated, and the bed was just so comfortable that she wouldn’t have been able to stay awake no matter how much she tried.

The next morning, she was disoriented. Her eyes snapped open, and she took in the strange room. It was simple, even Spartan. Nothing extravagant at all. The walls were made of hewn wood, and there was a large sage green area rug that covered most of the honey-colored floorboards. The bed she slept in was against the back wall of the room, flanked by two windows, which allowed sunshine to stream through curtains that weremade of a light, thin fabric—thick enough to offer concealment, but not enough to black the room out altogether. In the way of furniture there was a large armoire and a bank of drawers.

The events of the day before flooded her mind, and she remembered where she was. Alex yawned, stretched, and then burrowed back under the covers. It felt like forever since she had slept so well. The mattress was just the right combination of soft and firm. The bedding was smooth and had the smell of clean, crisp linens, and the pillows were fluffy and wide. This was an improvement over the thin, lumpy, rancid cot she had slept on for the last week. In fact, even if she was a prisoner here, it was still much preferable to the warehouse.

Alex wasn’t sure what time it was, but she stayed in bed for the moment while she recalled the last twenty-four hours. A strange thing surfaced, and she remembered what Domenic had said as he beat up Mr. Mean. “
She is
mine!” His voice reverberated in her head. That little detail had been pushed aside in all the excitement, but now it was the singular thing she could think of. Why had he said that, and what had he meant by it? Alex was awake now as she puzzled it out. She wanted to ask Domenic about it.

No time like the present, she supposed. Reluctantly, she left the warm nest of pillows and bedclothes and went to the bedroom door. Alex poked her head out to see Domenic in front of the stove with his back to her. The cabin was nothing more than a large rectangle. It had a living room, small dining area—more a breakfast nook, really—and a fully functional kitchenette where Domenic stood now. He was dressed today, and she wasn’t sure if she was happy or disappointed about that. Not needing any diversions, she decided it was a good thing.

Domenic turned to look at her as she came out. “Still here, I see?” His expression was still incredibly smug.

“Yep,” she replied, resisting the urge to stick her tongue out at him like a grade-schooler.

“There’s an extra toothbrush in the bathroom. A hairbrush too.”

Alex ran a hand over her disheveled hair and wondered if he was trying to tell her something as she scuttled to the bathroom.

Her hair had still been damp when she went to bed last night, and it was in complete disarray. She brushed her teeth first while planning the best method of attack on her head. Once all the knots were out, it fell in soft waves around her shoulders. Alex took a moment to examine herself in the mirror. Now that her hair was tamed into submission, the sandy brown layers framed a freshly scrubbed face, which boasted a nice pink glow. Alex sighed contentedly, still giddy about being clean.

Now that she had made herself presentable, she went to join Domenic in the kitchen. She sniffed appreciatively. He was frying up some bacon to add to the scrambled eggs he had just finished.

“Do you need any help?”

“Toast,” he said, pointing to the bread on the counter. Alex placed two slices in the toaster and then replaced them when those were done. Bringing the toast to the table, she sat down to wait as Domenic divided the food between two plates. He placed one in front of her and sat across the table, eying her in speculation.

“Did you want to discuss what happened last night?” His face was inscrutable, his forearms resting on the table in front of him.

“Panic attack,” she sighed.

“Why didn’t you just talk to me about it?” he asked, frowning.

“That would have been a fun conversation.” She snickered. “Hey, Domenic, so I had this thought that you lured me out here to dispose of my body. Funny, huh?”

“Point taken.”

Alex could see him trying to hide a smile, and she relaxed. Something about the man still set her on edge, and she responded much more aggressively than she normally would in any other situation. For some reason the air between them always seemed charged with electricity and was setting off sparks.

“Since you want us to be so open, I have a question for you.”

“Okay?” The trace of smile vanished from Domenic’s face and was replaced with a wary expression.

“Right before you punched out Mr. Mean…”

“Marco.”

“Marco, then. You said something to him…” She glanced up at Domenic from under her lashes and thought his face paled.

“I don’t remember.”

“You said, ‘she is
mine.
’ What did you mean by that?”

“Your food is getting cold.”

Speaking of cold, you could have chipped ice off his words, and he was looking at her with a very forbidding expression. Alex made a big show of placing a large bite of eggs and bacon in her mouth then raised a brow at him.

“You’re not going to let this go, are you?” he asked.

“No.”

“I’d tell you to get over it, but I have a feeling you’ll just follow me around and nag at me till I tell you.”

“There aren’t many places for you to hide,” she said, looking into the living room pointedly.

“Let me eat breakfast first, and then I’ll explain.” He sighed.

They sat in silence eating the food and then she helped Domenic clear off the table. Once they had finished, he gestured toward the living room and its sparse furnishings. There was one couch and a single overstuffed armchair. A large wooden hutch stood off in a corner, matching a wide coffee table and two side tables. One which was bare and the other that had a small brass lamp with a cream-colored lampshade. There was no TV, no artwork on the walls, and no decoration of any kind save an area rug on the floor.

They sat on the couch together at opposite ends, and Alex looked at Domenic expectantly. He ignored the scrutiny while he scrubbed a hand over his face and fingered back the locks of hair that fell onto his forehead. Once settled, he began to speak.

“The first time we met, I assume you remember it?” he asked ruefully, Alex nodded. “That day, my…
boss
…offered you to me.”

“I don’t understand.”

“No, you wouldn’t.” Domenic blew out a breath and rubbed his eyes for a moment as if warding off a headache. His hands dropped away, and then he continued to speak in a subdued voice. “Carlo is an eccentric man. He read somewhere that the Mohawk, when they took a female captive, one of the braves had to rape her in front of the village.”

“But you aren’t Native!”

“No, we aren’t. But Carlo is a sadistic fuck, and the ritual appealed to him on a base level.”

“So, that was why you had to…but why didn’t you just say no?”

“I did say no, and then he told me that if I didn’t do it, he’d let the other two have you.”

Alex felt the blood drain from her face as she thought about what could have happened if Domenic hadn’t pretended to rape her the day they met. “Even then, you were trying to protect me.” The realization of that statement left her dumbfounded. Domenic nodded tersely.