Chapter 20

Vee suspected Sotza could easily overpower her, snap her neck before she even knew what was happening. She saw it in his eyes. Saw it, digested it, and still pressed the tip of the knife against his throat. Fuck it. If she was going down, at the very least she was going to spill a few drops of his blood in the process.

He didn't give her a chance. He twisted away from the knife is one fast, fluid motion. Brutally gripped her wrist, lifted himself slightly and flipped her, forcing her stomach to the mattress, her face smashed into the pillow. He yanked the blankets away from her body, uncovering her sleep top, which was shoved halfway up her back exposing the sheath, and her brief silk shorts. He twisted her arm behind her back, pressing the knife between her shoulder blades before coming down on top of her again. He lay across her body, full weight against her. She held her breath, keenly aware that the sharp blade of the knife was pressed between them, not cutting, but oh so close.

Vee whimpered softly. She didn't want to die, not really. She was only 37 years old. Though she'd lived a lifetime in those years, she also felt like she hadn't lived at all. Hadn't travelled, hadn't known true love, didn't get to finish her run as mafia queen. Although, if she died today, she would really only have one regret.

Sotza leaned harder into her, crushing the breath from her chest. He pulled her hair to the side, away from her face, his touch oddly gentle, incongruent with the violence of their exchange. "I would prefer my new bride to come with me undamaged, all of her fingers intact."

Vee grunted and tried to wiggle, but his weight overwhelmed her. She couldn't move an inch. She couldn't even draw in enough breath for a scathing retort. Instead, she was forced to lay beneath him and draw in quick, shallow breaths. Time slowed. Spots began to swarm her vision and she feared she would pass out if he didn't move.

Finally, he eased his weight just enough for her to draw breath. She wanted to swear at him, to keep fighting, even if it was just verbally. But good sense prevailed and she kept her mouth shut.

"Give me the blade, Vee," he said, a hard edge to his voice. His breath tickled her ear and sent a shiver through her.

She nodded slightly, the movement causing his chin to brush her neck. The intimacy was getting to her. Her body was responding to him. She knew if she checked her panties she'd find herself wet. What was it about these violent pricks that turned her on so much? At least her head knew better than to get involved with this one.

"Fine," she muttered. "Move your heavy ass and it's all yours."

He shifted, leaning the top of his body slightly to the side. He still held her arm wrenched up her back, his long fingers wrapped tight around her wrist. She could feel the tensile strength in his hold. Could feel the depth of his control. He could so easily snap her wrist or break her arm. Yet, though his grip was firm, she didn't feel in danger of an injury. It chilled her to the bone that Sotza knew exactly how and where to apply pressure. He would know how to make his victims suffer, draw out the pain while keeping them alive for torture.

"Slowly now," he commanded her.

Vee was both glad and annoyed at the healthy respect he was showing for her ability and willingness to cut him. If he was wary of her then he'd keep a close eye on her and she might never get the opportunity to murder him. She opened her fingers one at a time, releasing the blade. He took it from her. She heard the clatter of it hitting the floor as he tossed it off the side of the bed. He took her wrist and pulled her arm around to her side and then up by her head. She was surprised when he didn't let her go, move away and get on with her kidnapping. Instead he spread his fingers over top of hers and linked their hand. He shifted his body on top of her, took her other hand and did the same thing, bringing it up beside her head and linking their fingers.

That moment, them together, the fire crackling in the background casting warm, flickering shadows across the walls, could have been the most romantic moment of her life. If he wasn't such a fucking psycho. As they lay together, breathing together, the heat of their bodies mingling, all she could think was, what's next? Was he going to haul her out of there, take her back to Miami? Or maybe Venezuela?

"We should be together, Vee," he said quietly, speaking in her ear again, his chin resting against the side of her head. "Don't you see how good we'd be? How powerful? You're smart, beautiful and kind. You would complement me in every way."

Vee let out a breathless laugh. "Kind?" she gasped. He was back to crushing her again, although not quite as much as before. "You did see what I did to Luis before you decapitated him, right?"

"So you can hold your own, make tough decisions when needed. We both know, as a leader, you should've killed Luis, made an example of the man. He wavered in his loyalties. I had your back on that one, made sure his loyalty was unquestionable."

"You're a fucking serial killer is what you are!" she hissed. "You kill them if they remain loyal and you kill them if they switch sides. No one stood a chance when you decided to take my city."

"All is fair –"

"I swear to god if you say 'all's fair in love and war' I will find the super human strength to get you off my back and stab the shit out of you."

He chuckled. "And a sense of humour, Vee. You're the whole package." He moved, sliding to her side and sitting up. She tried to roll away from him, but he grabbed hold of her and flipped her onto her back, pinning her arms over her head. She glared at him, the fight reigniting in her eyes. He narrowed his eyes and frowned. "No more, Vee. I really don't want to hurt you."

"I don't understand why you're doing this! If you think I'm the whole package," she said scathingly, "then why don't you let me have Miami back? You can set me back up as the queen and then have my back when I need it. We could've done that in the first place, saved all this drama, saved those lives."

"It's too late," he said, his voice a low rumble as his eyes were drawn to her exposed stomach, where her top had ridden up. "Beautiful," he murmured. "Perfect curves, silky skin."

"It's not too late!" she cried out. "What do you want from me? I'll give it to you. Do you want to fuck? We can do that, just promise you'll let me go."

He gave her a chiding look. "You are worth so much more than just a fuck, Vee. Don't underestimate yourself."

She blew her bangs out of her face, annoyed and frustrated, still a little afraid, although she was about ready to believe he had no intention of killing her. "I'm worth exactly what I say I'm worth," she snarled. "Wouldn't be the first time I traded sex for favours."

He stared down at her, his gaze heated. She didn't know what he was thinking. If he was pissed off, pitying, contemptuous. Finally, he replied, "I really think you believe that."

"Of course I do!" she said, yanking on her wrists, trying to free them from his grip. "I used to fuck Tony for all kinds of things. Jewelry, money, drugs, the right to breathe."

His fingers tightened around her hands. He hadn't liked that. "I meant," he said, his voice taking on a hard edge, "that you believe you aren't worth much."

She frowned. What the fuck was this? A therapy session? Was he trying to raise her sense of self-worth, give the old self-esteem a boost? "You're a strange man," she said drily. "Fine, I'm worth a lot. Like, how about a city? Yeah, I'm probably worth the cost of Miami."

He chuckled and then stopped, looked surprised. When he looked down at her it was with a peculiar expression, soft, determined, caring. It made her heart trip. "Vee, mi amor, you make me laugh. I don't do that enough."

"I'm not trying to be funny, asshole."

"You don't have to try to be anything, Elvira. You just are," he said.

"Don't call me that!" she practically shouted. "And can we please get on with this, whatever it is. My arms are getting sore from being wrenched around and held down so much."

His lips curved up and he released her hands. "Whatever the lady wishes."

Vee snorted and brought her arms down. She shoved herself up the mattress, pressing her back against the headboard. "This lady wants you to die. Immediately, if it's not too inconvenient."

He laughed again and reached for her knife, turning his back on her for a second. She eyed the spot right between his shoulder blades. If she had a second knife that's exactly where it would go.

He turned back to her, gave her tiny pyjamas another heated look and said, "You'll need to get changed. All that bare skin will freeze in this climate. Frankly, I'm a little shocked that you chose Canada as an escape. It's vast, easy to get lost, I'll give you that. But is it worth trying to survive in a frozen wasteland?"

"I happen to love it here," she gritted, ignoring the inner voice that agreed with him completely. The one upside of his kidnapping her is she was pretty sure he was going to take her back south. Still, she wasn't going to give him an inch. "Very fucking beautiful."

She got off the bed cautiously, halfway expecting him to yank her back. He allowed her to stand, following her movements as she paced to the wardrobe and started pulling out clothing. A pair of jeans, a hooded sweater, a pair of panties, bra and socks. When she turned back to him and raised an eyebrow he made no move to leave.

"I'm not changing with you here."

He stood, his tall frame towering next to the bed. "Then you'll be leaving dressed like that. It's going to be a cold trip, but my men will enjoy the view."

Hatred burned in her chest. She wanted to scream at him, lash out and strike him. If she thought she had even a remote chance of landing a blow she might've done it. Instead, she reminded herself that she was a mature adult and that one of these days the tables would be turned. He'd turn his back on her at the wrong time, in the wrong place and she would take extreme pleasure in taking him out.

"I can see your thoughts, my dear." He didn't sound angry though. He sounded like he was anticipating her rage, revelling in the experience.

"You are a twisted man," she growled and yanked on the jeans. She decided against the bra since she had no intention of baring herself in front of him. She was small-chested anyway, didn't need to wear a bra all the time. She pulled the sweater over her head and then sat on the edge of the bed, as far away from him as she could get, to put her socks on.

When she finished and looked up, he was standing in front of her reaching a hand out to her. She ignored it and stood on her own, stepping quickly to the side. He didn't stop her as she left the bedroom.

"Coat and boots," he told her, following her into the main room. "Wear all of your new winter gear. You'll need it for the ride to the airport. We have to drive into St. John's before we can fly out."

"A little midnight cross-country kidnapping," she grumbled as she sat on the bench next to the door to pull her boots on. "Sure, why not, why don't you maim a few people while you're up here? Really make a vacation out of it. Show Canada who The Butcher is and why he has such a devastating reputation."

"Vee," he said her name warningly. "You don't want to cross the line with me."

She stood up and yanked her fluffy winter cherry red parka on. She probably needed a few lessons in the art of blending in, but Vee was never one to follow the pack. When she was ready to go, she stood toe-to-toe with Sotza, glaring up at him. This close, without her signature heels, he towered over her.

"You know what, Sotza?" she snarled, poking him in the chest. "You obliterated the line when you came after me, took my city apart and killed half my town. I don't fucking care about crossing the line with you. In fact, I anticipate it with pleasure."

Instead of responding to her angry tirade, he caught her hand before she could storm out the door. He fished into his pocket and pulled the engagement ring he'd given her back in Miami, brought her hand up between them and pushed it onto her finger. "This doesn't come off again, comprende?"

For once, she didn't argue. His grim expression told her the consequences would be severe.