89

Portia
She leaves the door open so I can see a part of the bedroom and hear clearly. I scrub my hair as I listen to her talk to Mara, chastising her for not being in her seat. She was at the window.
“Let’s get you changed. Mr. Petrov will be here soon.”
“Do you know him?” Mara asks her as she undresses her before dressing her again in a pretty pink dress hanging in a garment bag from the closet door.
“No, of course not. But he’s paid handsomely for you. Just look at this dress he sent.”
“It’s very pretty,” Mara deadpans. I can see her face from here. She hasn’t even looked at it.
“And look at this. There’s even a teddy bear for you.”
“I’m fifteen. I don’t play with teddy bears,” Mara says.
“You’ll accept it and be grateful for it. Now sit.”
“Do you know how old he is?”
“Why would his age matter? Silly girl. Now sit down so I can arrange your hair the way he wants it.”
Mara turns to look at Helga, who has her back to me. Her eyes catch mine for just a brief moment. “I’m scared,” she tells the woman.
Helga sighs. “Nonsense. He’s been looking for someone like you for years. I’m sure he’ll take good care of you. You’ll be his little doll and he’ll look after you just like Mr. Perez does.”
“That’s what I’m scared of.”
“Do I need to get the strap, Lizzie?”
“No, Ma’am.”
“Good. Now sit down so I can do your hair.”
Fucking bitch. She knows exactly what this Petrov is going to do to her. She knows exactly what he wants her for. And she’s preparing her for him.
Sick.
“Five minutes,” Helga calls over her shoulder, her tone entirely different when she talks to me.
“Almost done,” I say as I look at her broad back, her thick hands braiding Mara’s hair. There’s a small mirror in front of Mara and I can see her face, see her looking down at the stuffed bear while Helga tugs and twists.
I climb out of the tub and grab a towel, wrapping it around myself as best I can with the cuffs binding my wrists. I pad into the bedroom.
Helga is finished with the first braid and is working on the second one.
Outside the door I hear footsteps, two men laughing, and a woman maybe. Mara hears it too. I see it in her worried expression.
Holding the towel to myself I look at the nightstand, at the lamp there. I wonder how much it weighs. It looks heavy, unwieldy, but I could manage. Even with the cuffs, I can manage it.
“Almost done,” Helga says. “Sit still.”
I reach behind the nightstand to unplug the lamp and pick it up to test its weight, as I pull off the shade.
I have nothing to lose but my life and isn’t that gone anyway? Dead woman walking.
I turn to Helga just as she finishes the second braid. She backs up a step to look at her work and Mara’s eyes meet mine in the mirror as I approach.
The floor creaks just as I’m a step away and Helga begins to turn.
“Oh no!” Mara cries out, dropping the bear, drawing Helga’s attention just as I raise the lamp and bring it crashing down on the back of Helga’s skull.
–
Callahan.
I look at my brother. He’s still got the gun pointed at my uncle’s head. Or where his head was. What’s left of it is hanging backward and sideways. The knives pinning his hand and wrist to the desk are the only things keeping him in that chair that somehow hasn’t toppled.
The door opens and Dante steps inside. He stops, takes in the situation, expression unchanging like this is something you’d see every day.
Unruffled, he pulls out his phone and turns slightly away to make a call.
“Are you all right?” I ask Antonio.
He looks at me, confusion and disbelief in his eyes. He takes a breath in, nods his head.
“Give me the gun,” I say, holding out my hand.
“I’m fine,” he says, holding it by his side. It’s his first kill as far as I know.
Dante disconnects the call.
“Cleaner will be here in one hour.”
“Thank you.” I turn to my brother. “Give me the gun, Antonio, and go wash your hands and face.”
He tucks the gun into its shoulder holster, takes a deep breath in. “We need to find Portia,” he says and walks to the kitchen, shoulders straightening as he does, as he washes his hands then splashes water on his face. He turns back to us as he wipes his face with a kitchen towel. He looks at the back of our uncle’s head.
“I’m sorry – ”
“It’s not your fault. He deserved that.”
He meets my gaze. “You didn’t let me finish. I’m not sorry I killed him. I’m sorry I did it before he told us where Portia is.”
I study him. I’m thinking about what David said. What he implied about Antonio. What Antonio must be processing.
But now isn’t the time.
Dante is already looking through David’s pockets and a moment later he has the phone in his hand.
“I’ll check the bedroom. See if he has anything that’ll tell us.”
I nod. Dante and I watch him walk away and when he’s gone, Dante turns to me.
“Is he okay?”
“I doubt it. He probably shouldn’t be alone,” I say, my eyes on the empty space at the end of the hall where my brother disappeared. My brother whom I wanted to protect from this. Protect from everything since I woke up from that coma.
“We need to regroup. Get a location on that auction. The rest we’ll deal with after.”
Dante is already working the phone. “Any idea what his password would be?”
“Call Diamente.” I walk toward the room my brother entered. I find Antonio rifling through papers and clothes he’s dumped out of David’s single suitcase. It’s nothing more than an overnight bag. He rushed.
“He has another phone,” Antonio says without looking at me. “He’s been fooling us all these years. Me longer than you.”
“Hey.”
“Ten years I spent with the man who killed my family.”
“Antonio.”
He swipes papers off the bed with an angry sweep of his arm.
“Hey.” I touch his shoulder, but he shrugs me off.
“What?”
“He’s a liar. We know that. What he said – ”
“Mom was raped,” he spits the words but at least he’s finally looking at me. “You knew it and you never told me.”
“You didn’t need to know.”
“Well, it seems I kinda did, considering the bit of news Uncle David just shared.”
“I told you he’s a liar.”
“He’s not lying about this,” he says, shifting his gaze to the mess on the bed. He pulls his hand through his hair, tugging hard, taking a deep breath in. “We need to find Portia now. I let him take her. I need to get her back.”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“It was my fault. You know it as well as I do so let’s move on.”
Something in the jumble of papers on the floor catches my eye. I bend to pick it up. It’s a black business card with three letters embossed in gold across the front.
I V I
“What is it?” Antonio asks as I straighten.
I turn it over to look for more details but there’s nothing. “I don’t know.”
He takes it from me. “I V I.”
“Do you know it?”
He shakes his head but looks thoughtful. “Maybe.” The phone in Antonio’s hand vibrates with a text message. It’s from a contact with the initial X.
Petrov’s entourage arrived. The address is at the fucking end of the world. Eindhoven. Willemstraa t13.
Dante walks in then. “Diamente’s working on the password. He’s got -”
I take the phone out of my brother’s hand and turn to Dante.
“Willemstraat 13. Eindhoven. What’s there? And who’s Petrov?” I ask as the screen goes dark. When I hit the button to bring it back up, it’s black, the phone password protected.
“Diamente?” Dante asks, putting Diamente on speaker.
“Private residence on several acres of land surrounded by forest.”
I can hear him typing.
“Sounds like it’s private enough to hold a human auction.”
“That it is. No one actually lives at the estate apart from a caretaker and his wife. No neighbors for miles. It’s perfect.”
“I’m guessing we’ll need more soldiers,” I say, but Dante’s already on his phone.
“On it.”
“Let’s go.”