The Sacrificial Lamb (2 page)

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Authors: Elle Fiore

Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Romance, #Contemporary, #Romantic Suspense, #Mystery & Suspense, #Suspense

BOOK: The Sacrificial Lamb
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“Scream, God damn you!” he whispered in a fierce undertone, tightening the hold on the fistful of hair and giving her head a savage shake. “Fight me for fuck’s sake!”

The girl realized that he had to make this performance convincing, and she came back to life. She bucked her hips as if trying to throw him off her body and pulled at her wrists, which were still locked in his hand above her head. She screamed and screeched at him and then finally started sobbing out of pure fright of the situation.

Domenic continued to thrust his hips against her. He had undone his slacks. His back was to the door so Carlo hadn’t seen that his cock was still in his briefs. Luckily for the girl and for him, because while he was merely simulating having sex with her, the friction was making him hard. He tried to keep his mind on the imminent danger they were both in, but that combined with having a woman’s writhing body under him exacerbated the situation.

Feeling what was happening, the girl’s eyes snapped open and locked with Domenic’s. The fear in them was palpable. She most likely thought that since he had risen to the occasion, he might just stop acting. He gave an imperceptible shake of his head and then pretended as if he was reaching climax. The girl just lay there underneath him, whimpering, tired from all of her struggles.

Letting go of her hands, Domenic rose to his knees and lowered her skirt gently. She rolled over onto her side and faced the wall. Her shoulders hitched, and her whole body trembled. She was still very scared and had every right to be. He had an odd impulse to reach out and comfort her, but remembered they still had an audience. Instead, he stood up beside the cot and made a big production about doing up his pants.

His shirt hung out in front to hide the fact he still had an erection, and he prayed no one would notice. Stooping down, he picked up the remains of the girl’s underwear and threw them at Carlo as he walked out the door. His boss caught them one handed and smiled. He still had great reflexes for a man his age.

“I’ve marked her,” Domenic said. “Now she’s
mine
.” He turned to glare at the two clowns sitting against the wall, scowling. He knew no one would dare touch her now. She would be safe.

“Looks like the girl has marked you as well.” Carlo chuckled, pointing to Domenic’s face. He reached up and felt three distinct gouges down his cheek.

Domenic grabbed his gun and jacket and left the warehouse. Yes, she had definitely marked him.

2

O
NCE
T
HE
M
AN
L
EFT
T
HE
R
OOM
, Alex relaxed in increments. She stayed curled up in the fetal position, facing the wall, but her tears had stopped. She wasn’t sure how much more she could cry since it seemed she’d been doing so nonstop over the last few days. If she kept this up, she would be severely dehydrated soon.

Shivers wracked her body, and she wasn’t sure if it was due to shock or because of the stupid skirt. Alex never wore skirts, and the one time she had, she’d managed to get kidnapped. Murphy’s Law. Or more like Alex’s Law. She had wanted to look pretty for her boyfriend Shane since they hadn’t seen each other in months, and now she was stuck in some drafty warehouse with air blowing up the damn thing. It wouldn’t be so bad if she still had her underwear.

Hunching her shoulders against the onslaught of images that invaded her mind, Alex remembered exactly
why
she was no longer wearing any. She had never been so scared in her life as when the man came toward her. He was tall, and even under his impeccably tailored shirt and suit pants, she could sense his brute strength. Raven-haired and dark skinned, his green eyes were bright like emeralds—it was a startling contrast. And in those eyes was a hatred she couldn’t even fathom. Even the last few days of confused terror in this hellhole hadn’t compared to her feeling of dread when he approached her. The man looked dangerous.

Alex shuddered as she remembered how he had grabbed her. She had fought as hard as she could, but he just kept coming. It was like punching a slab of marble. Her fists had just bounced off his chest as if she weren’t even trying. Finally, she resorted to using her nails and clawing at him. She felt a moment of satisfaction when she saw the scratches carved out on his face.

Her begging and pleading hadn’t registered in those cold green eyes. He obviously had a mission to accomplish and wouldn’t stop until he was done. When he ripped off her panties and undid his pants, the sick realization of what was about to happen sunk in. Eyes closed, she’d prayed it would end soon. Alex felt his body on top of hers but didn’t notice that there was still the feel of fabric between them, not until he pulled her hair hard, making her scream, and told her he wasn’t going to rape her.

What followed had been the greatest role-playing of her young life. From deep inside, Alex had gathered all the fear and anger she had felt over the last few days and fought him. This was no game. His sense of urgency made her realize just how much danger she was still in. There had been that one moment of utter terror when he began to sexually respond to her, but the fear had been brief and baseless.

And then he had climbed off her.

She’d resisted the urge to jerk away from his touch as he lowered her skirt, turning away to avoid looking at him. Her shoulders shook as she tried to keep her sobs from breaking through. Alex could feel him hesitating behind her, and all she could think was how badly she wanted him to leave her alone. Finally he left, and she was able to let her breath out in shaky sobs.

Sure, she hadn’t been raped. And while that would have made this horrible situation infinitely worse, not being raped certainly hadn’t improved anything. She was still in this stinking concrete room—a prisoner, abducted. And
no one
knew where she was.
She
didn’t even know where she was.

All she remembered was walking out of her apartment door and turning to lock it. She had been distracted because she was running late to pick up Shane at the airport and hadn’t noticed the men coming toward her from down the hall. Two hands had grabbed her from behind, one around her waist and the other clapped over her mouth. Preparing to scream, she had pulled in a huge breath and started to see black spots. There had been a damp cloth in his hand. She shook her head back and forth as the black spots merged into a wall of darkness.

Alex had woken up in this dingy, musty place, with water-marked walls and a dim light bulb flickering over the cot where she lay. She had sat up too quickly and groaned, clutching her head. Once able, she had gotten off the bed, trembling, and headed toward the door. It was futile to even try, but she grabbed the handle and yanked it anyway. Alex had to stop from banging on the door and crying out. Her head had been pounding fiercely, and she hadn’t wanted to call more attention to herself.

Stumbling back to the cot, she had pulled her knees up to her chest and cried bitterly.

Alex supposed she should have been praying for herself, but by this point she was almost sure she wasn’t going to live. It wasn’t as if her captors were going to any great lengths to keep their identities a secret. In the movies that was always a
bad
sign. If they set her free, she could walk into any police station and describe the three men she had seen to any sketch artist. She could pick them out in a lineup. She could describe them in minute detail. She was as good as dead.

That thought should have scared the hell out of Alex, but surprisingly it didn’t.

She couldn’t deny it any longer. She likely wouldn’t make it out of this stinking room alive. There was no one who could help her. All she could do was survive as best she could and hope that perhaps there would be a chance for her to make an escape. Alex didn’t see how that would be possible. There was no way she could fight against two men, especially ones who were armed. She just hoped that when the time came, she could be brave and it would be fast.

3

D
OMENIC
L
EFT
T
HE
W
AREHOUSE
with a troubled mind. Marco and Vince would be fools to disobey a direct order from him since Domenic was Carlo’s second in command. To do so would mean almost certain death. The problem was he didn’t trust either of them as far as he could throw them with one hand. Marco was the type to do anything to usurp Domenic’s position, and Vince would go along for the ride. Fortunately, Carlo kept them around to serve as heavies. He recognized their cunning natures, but neither had any real business smarts. Not the kind necessary to run an organization like the Liseni Family.

Carlo had brought Domenic back into the fold four years ago for his own reasons and then realized the young man had a knack for the business. No surprise since it was his rightful legacy as the son of Domenic D’Angelo Sr., who had been Capo until his death thirteen years previous. At the tender age of sixteen, Domenic had obviously been too young to step into his father’s shoes, but he’d grown into a formidable man. It hadn’t taken him long to claw his way up the ranks until he’d become the underboss, groomed to take over for Carlo when he retired.

But Carlo wouldn’t live very much longer, and he would die at Domenic’s hand.

Once in his car, Domenic sat there for a moment, his mind filled with thoughts of the girl. She had unknowingly thrown a wrench in his plans. Domenic couldn’t afford distractions from his ultimate goal, and she was proving to be a great one. In the car’s rearview mirror, he grimaced at his reflection. The gouges she had left were angry and red-looking, but he wasn’t too concerned. He had a reputation as a ladies’ man that he didn’t bother disputing. Most would just assume he had bedded a voracious groupie, and he wouldn’t disabuse them of that notion.

Occasionally, Domenic met a woman who would pique his interest, and a dalliance would begin for a short period of time. It never lasted long. If he felt there was any inkling of romantic feelings on the part of the woman, he ended things without preamble. He had nothing to give a woman. Well, nothing that didn’t come out of his wallet anyway. Women made you weak. Not in the physical sense, but they gave your enemy a way to debilitate you without even laying a hand on you. Domenic certainly couldn’t afford for any of his rivals to have that kind of power over him.

If he needed additional proof, all he had to do was think of John Montgomery. They had crippled him in the worst way possible. He would know the chance of his daughter making it out of this alive was slim to none. Being a man of the law, would he be willing to do whatever it took to give his daughter a fighting chance? Would he perjure himself before a court of law if he thought it would save her? Domenic didn’t have children of his own, but he was fairly certain he would do whatever it took to increase the odds of saving his daughter.

Who was he kidding? He would hunt the motherfuckers down himself and torture them to death for kidnapping his child.

What the hell was he going to do about the girl? Alexis. He still couldn’t believe Carlo had abducted her. It was a testament to the man’s desperation. Sheriff Montgomery had the power to put him and his brothers away for a long time. Carlo knew that with Domenic waiting in the wings to take over the family, he would never survive in prison. He would be assassinated as soon as the guards turned their backs. With the number of enemies Carlo had, it wouldn’t take long for someone to pay them to look the other way. For the right amount of money, a guard might even do the deed himself.

Domenic smiled at the thought of Carlo lying in a pool of his own blood, a shank stuck deep into his chest. Nothing would save him—he was too old even to peddle himself off as someone’s bitch. That thought gave him a perverse thrill of pleasure. It would serve the sadistic son of a bitch right if a train was run on him. While Domenic wanted to be the one to kill Carlo, this would do just as well.

Alexis Montgomery must live and Sheriff Montgomery must testify.

The arraignment was almost a month away—still time to work out a plan. He had a phone call to make, and once that was done Domenic would sit back and see what happened. Until then she would need to be kept safe, and he hoped fear of retaliation would keep the other thugs in line. Carlo didn’t want the girl hurt either—not until she served her purpose, at least—so Domenic felt better about leaving her.

He started the car, left the dilapidated warehouse behind, and headed to his condo in the Lake View district of Chicago. On the way, his mind was still on the girl. Why had he risked everything he’d worked toward to protect her? She meant nothing to him. What was one more sin added to the mountain he’d accumulated in the last four years? He didn’t give a rat’s ass about anything beside himself and his own agenda. But this girl, she was innocent. It had been a long time since he had been around anyone like that. The people who surrounded him were so corrupt and greedy that it oozed out of them like some kind of sickening stench.

Alexis was
pure,
and he wanted to bask in her white light like a cat sunning itself. Domenic shook his head. What had come over him? She was so small and vulnerable. It switched on some primal instinct in him that had long since been dormant. He could see his intricately woven plans unraveling if he wasn’t careful.

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