Beauty and the Dark Page 18

  “Who else is in this house?” I ask quietly.

  The other girls are too terrified to speak, but the girl who helped downstairs stands up and whispers, “I’m not sure. Venus is next door with a client. The big boss is around too. They have brought a new girl in today. I think she is still in the last room.”

  “What does she look like?”

  “I didn’t see her. I just heard.”

  “I saw her,” a girl with black hair says. “She is pretty with long hair the color of honey, and she is wearing a purple hat with a floppy flower on it.”

  That’s my Sofia. There isn’t another girl in London who’d wear something that ridiculous. “There’s no one downstairs and the dogs are asleep so if you want you can run, but be quiet,” I tell them.

  The women look at each other, too frightened to save themselves. Only the girl with the bruises on her neck nods.

  I go out and close the door. I avoid the next room. There is a bathroom on my right. I open the door to make sure it is empty. I don’t need any nasty shocks, then I make for the last room.

  To my surprise the door to the last room opens and a man walks out. The moment my eyes fall on him, blood slams so fast into my head it’s like a baseball bat hitting a ball. I feel my whole body vibrate with tension as more rage than I’ve ever known pools in my gut. My right hand clenches into a violent wrap of bone, sinew and skin. Only one thought echoes in my mind. Over and over again.

  Kill him! Kill him! Kill him!

  Forty-seven

  Jack

  He lifts his eyes, sees me, and his head jerks back. It’s a pure what the fuck?-how the hell?-Oh shit! moment.

  Then our eyes lock and the moment hangs suspended, counted only in our heartbeats. They say that in times of extreme danger, the pathways between people open, they become connected, and there are no more secrets between them.

  In that second, I see him in all his rotten glory: his narcissism, his arrogance, his sadistic cruelty, his dirty soul, his innate cowardice, and the demon sitting on his shoulder whispering dark thoughts.

  And him?

  He sees a man with hellfire blazing in his eyes and nothing to lose.

  Then the pathways close and his tremendous opinion of himself takes over. His eyes snap to the champagne bottle in my hand. He schools his features into a taunting mask.

  “How kind. You brought a bottle,” he remarks, his voice smarmy, oily, repulsive.

  “It seemed rude not to.”

  “I wonder about you, Jack. You don’t look like a fool and yet you’re on a fool’s errand.”

  I unclench my balled up fist. “I’ve come for what’s mine.”

  His eyes narrow. “She’s my bitch, but for the right amount of money I can … lend her to you.”

  “She’s not yours. You sold her.”

  He makes a dismissive waving gesture with his right hand. “It was in a moment of weakness. A simple mistake that I rectified earlier this evening. Now she’s mine again.”

  “You can’t have her back.” My voice is low. Calm.

  His eyes glitter with something unholy. “I own her ass. She’ll eat my shit if I tell her to.”

  I’m so repulsed, so horrified I can’t even speak.

  He thinks he sees a chink and pounces. “Why would a fine, upstanding man like you want a low life, dirty bitch like her? She’s had more cocks inside her than you’ve had fancy dinners.”

  He’s trying to get under my skin. The smug smile, calling me by my first name in that sardonic, superior tone, the fake concern for my wellbeing. This is passive-aggressive at its best. I’m not stupid enough to fall for it. I smile slowly. He thinks I can’t play this game.

  “I don’t care how many cocks she’s had inside her. From now on my big cock’s the only one going into her.”

  He smiles, a dead, mirthless smile. “I know what. Let’s ask her to choose. My big cock or … yours.”

  I shake my head. “This is not a democracy.”

  His lips tighten. “I don’t think you realize who you are dealing with. You may have …” he shrugs nonchalantly, “overpowered a couple of my men downstairs, but there are more coming. Every moment you stand here you are getting closer and closer to your own demise.”

  I shrug. “Let them come. I’m not leaving without Sofia.”

  “Then you’ll leave in a black bin bag.”

  I lift my shoulder carelessly. “So be it.”

  He lifts his right hand and scratches his chest. What a fool. As if I’d buy that old card shark trick. His hand slips into his jacket, but before he can even aim his gun, I have pulled my knife out from the back of my waistband and have it ready to throw at him. He panics, turns, and tries to reenter the room he came out of.

  Cat quick I throw my weapon. With impeccable aim it enters dead center into his left buttock, exactly where I wanted to plant it. He falls down and screams like a stuck pig.

  I walk up to him, grab a handful of his greasy hair, and pull his head up.

  “Fuck you,” he spits. “You think you can get away with this? I’ll hunt you down.”

  That’s the problem with psychopaths. They just don’t know when to stop, pull back, rethink the strategy, and maybe say sorry, I was wrong. Show a little respect to someone else. I shake my head in wonder. He’s so fucking screwed and he doesn’t know it. He actually thinks I’m just going to take Sofia and leave him here alive so he can then wreak his revenge at his own time.

  “You’ll be running for the rest of your life,” he threatens wildly. Even at this late stage it doesn’t cross his mind that he could have underestimated me. I could be a killer like him.

  “Not that it’ll help,” I say, “but if you have any last minute prayers you want to say, now might be the time.” My voice is icy cold, deadly.

  It hits him then. Finally, but damn, does it hit him! The swagger evaporates. His eyes bulge with the shocking knowledge that I’m not some lily livered, soft-touch, plastic surgeon that he can ‘lend’ his whore to. That I, a doctor tasked with saving lives, am prepared to kill in cold blood. That I’ve come to watch him die.

  His face becomes a mask of raw terror. His hands start flailing, hitting out at my legs. He belly-crawls forward and tries to bite me. He has a split second of warning before I swing the bottle into the side of his skull. His head jerks so hard, it looks like it’s coming off his neck.

  Bright lights must be exploding across his vision right now. The screaming pain epic. His eyes are full of disbelief. He can’t believe that it is over. It can’t be. I can’t die on the filthy floor of one of my brothels. I’m still young. This can’t be the end. He blinks rapidly, but no matter how hard he tries he can’t clear his blurred vision. He struggles vainly against the rising blackness.

  He gasps.

  Everything is dimming, blurring, fading.

  He reaches for me, his killer, blindly in a last act of clawing desperation. Then the world goes dark for him. The great Valdislav is no more. Gone to meet his maker, or those demons that surrounded him and whispered all their sadistic perversions.

  I step over his body and go into the room. A part of my brain notes how chilly it is in there. A window is wide open and cold air blows in ruffling the curtains. My eyes go to the king size metal bed. I’m so sure I’ll see her on it, that it is a shock to find it empty. My heart is beating so fast with fear I feel dizzy. I whip around looking for her. She’d better be here. I’ve killed the only man who might know her whereabouts.

  Then I see her … and the air leaves my lungs. My heart feels as if it is being torn into two halves. Fuck. I want to shake. I want to sob. My vision blurs as I lurch forward, hand outstretched, whimpering inside like a hurt animal.

  Forty-eight

  Jack

  The cockroach has stripped her naked and squeezed her into a metal cage that is meant for nothing bigger than a medium sized dog. Her skin is blue, her hands open and limp, the way the dead keep theirs. When I shout her name she doesn’t reply.

  In a flash I get over to her.

  Crouching down I touch her skin through the bars. Her blood is pulsing strongly. The door is secured with a padlock. I try to bend the metal and pry it open, but the metal is sturdy and won’t budge. Blinded by tears of rage, I half-crawl and half-scramble over to the bastard’s body.

  I rifle his pockets, tearing impatiently at his expensive clothes. I find what I am looking for in his trouser pocket. Clutching the key in my trembling hands I stand over him. I thought I had seen the worst of humanity, but I have never met such a creature with such a black, pus-filled, moldy, walnut-sized heart.

  Unable to help myself, I viciously kick at his despicable corpse before I rush back to the cage and open the door. She falls out and I see the needle mark in her arm instantly. I run my hands down her body. Nothing appears to be broken or hurt.

  Going to the bed I rip the sheet off it and roll her in it. I shake her, rub her body, and kiss her cold cheek. I take my jacket off and wrap it around her mummy-wrapped body.

  “Baby, it’s me. Wake up,” I urge.

  Sofia

  “Baby,” he calls.

  His voice sounds like it is coming through a long tunnel. Oh, he’s so far away and I’m so cold. So freezing cold. Something hot touches my cheek. I force my eyes open.

  “Jack,” I whisper.

  His mouth is like a furnace against my cheek. I try to wrap my arms around him, but how strange, I can’t move my hands at all.

  “I love you.” My voice sounds like it has gone into the same tunnel to reach him. “Don’t watch the videos.”

  I feel his hands slide under my neck and my knees as he scoops me up and carries me.

  “I’m sorry. I promised I’d never take that shit again, but I had to break my promise.” A tear slips out. “I had to choose between broken legs and a needle. I chose a shot in my arm. This is an old friend. I kinda like him, Jack. He makes all the hurt go away. He makes it so that nothing hurts anymore. Not even you.”

  “Shhh …” he says.

  My head hangs down. I should warn him about Valdislav. He could be coming any time. It is too dangerous. I open my mouth. I want to speak, but I can’t. I want to keep my eyes open, but they won’t stay open. I hear a voice. Is that Gorky? I should warn Jack about him. He is dangerous. He always carries a gun.

  Jack

  Oh fuck! The other guy that Kaja described, scar, black hair, dead eyes, has just suddenly appeared in the corridor. We face each other. Me, standing in the middle of the landing carrying Sofia and, at the end of it, him pointing a gun.

  “Your boss is dead,” I tell him.

  “Put her down,” he says, releasing the catch on his gun.

  “Valdislav is gone. You can be the new king of all of this.” I swivel my head to indicate the building around us. “All I want is her.”

  He doesn’t blink. “Put the bitch down.” There is absolutely no expression on his face, but I can tell that he doesn’t know what the fuck is going on, and he dare not take my word for it that his boss is indeed dead.

  “If you shoot me, you’ll have the police crawling all over this place. Do you think I came here without precautions?” Behind Dead Eyes I see a shadow creeping up the stairs. Simply the way the man is moving tells me he’s not a friend of Dead Eyes.

  “Put her down or I’ll shoot you in the head,” Dead Eyes warns.

  “Okay, okay, I’m putting her down.” I just need to keep him talking for a little bit longer. Enough time for the shadow to creep up on him.

  As I lay Sofia on the ground at my feet, I look up at him. “You don’t believe your boss is dead? Go ahead and look behind me.”

  “Now, step away from her.”

  “Okay, okay, don’t shoot,” I say, as if I am really afraid of him.

  A second later the shadow coming up the stairs digs the barrel of his gun into my enemy’s back and says, “I’ve got no problem with you. Have you got a problem with me?”

  I see the fear come into his black eyes. “I’ve got no problem with you either,” he says.

  “Then drop the gun and kick it away.”

  He drops his gun and kicks it.

  “You all right?” the man asks me.

  I nod. I don’t know him from Adam and the only thing I can think of is that Noah sent him. Our strange impasse is suddenly broken by a man in his boxer shorts suddenly opening the bedroom door next to them. In that split second of confusion, Valdislav’s man turns around and kicks the shadow’s knees so he loses his balance, his hands jerking.

  Expertly, Dead Eyes grabs the gun.

  The man in his underwear starts screaming like a girl. In one smooth movement I reach into my sock, withdraw my knife and throw it. It’s not for throwing. It’s small and meant to be used up close; between the ribs directly into the heart.

  It moves in an arc towards Dead Eyes. The aim has to be perfect, or we’re dead. It pierces his neck, the impact throwing him backwards. He falls to the ground clutching his throat. I walk towards him. For a moment I stand watching him, gasping, eyes bulging, mad with pain.

  I feel nothing. No remorse, no pity, no guilt. In fact, no point wasting a good knife, or leaving it behind as evidence. I bend down and pull the knife out. Blood gushes out of his body like a scarlet fountain. He dies from a bubbling neck wound. I move away even before his eyes become blank.

  “Jesus Christ. What’s going on here?” the man in the boxer shorts squeals in a terrified voice.

  I look at him. His face is white. On the bed behind him there is a naked girl lying spread eagled. There are red welts all over her body.

  I stretch my hand out and he jumps back in fear. He is too late though. I have cut his boxers and his wrinkled worm of a penis is hanging out. “Get out asshole,” I tell him.

  “My clothes,” he says, covering his private parts with his hands.

  “Get out you fucking sick bastard, or I’ll cut your shriveled up, useless dick off.”

  He hesitates for less than a second. Then he runs, his pale body streaking down the stairs.

  I look at the girl. “Get dressed and run. No one will come after you,” I tell her.

  The shadow has picked himself up and is watching me expressionlessly.

  “Tell Noah, thanks,” I say. I pass him by and pick my precious cargo up in my arms. I start down the stairs. The shadow follows me.

  He opens the front door. It is freezing cold. There is another man waiting at the bottom of the steps. He nods at me as I come down the stairs. He goes into the house, closing the front door.

  “Why is he going back in there?”

  “He’s part of the clean-up crew. One of the girls or the neighbors could call the police. They’ll make sure the CCTV tapes are wiped clean and any evidence cleared away.”

  Another man comes towards us, nods at the shadow as he passes us.

  Whatever. I’m not interested. I clutch Sofia tightly against my body. I need to get her to a hospital. I don’t know what he has injected her with.

  I place Sofia in the passenger seat, belt her up, and start the car. She mumbles something. I tell her to hold on. Then I call Lena and tell her that I’ve got Sofia and I’m taking her to the hospital. I give her the address then I end the call and concentrate on getting there.

  Forty-nine

  Sofia

  I don’t know what he injected me with, but it was so strong my eyes rolled back in my head, or maybe I’m just not used to it anymore. The night is a hazy blur of memories. I remember being cold. Shivering. Giving up. Wanting to die. Fading away. Getting lost in the soft dark.

  Then being shaken awake. Jack. Noises. People screaming. Being carried out into the cold night. The stars in the sky. Feeling sick in the car. Jack talking to me in a crooning voice. Begging me to hang on.

  “You’re safe now. It’s all going to be all right,” he said again and again.

  Then being carried into the hospital. Bright overhead lights. I recall the jarring sound of Jack shouting. Noises, nurses. Being wheeled down a corridor. People peering down at me, calling me, ‘love’. Kind words and hands, cold instruments.

  Lena’s swollen and red face hovering over mine. Kissing me, wetting my face with her tears, talking to me in Russian.

  “Don’t worry, I’m all right,” I tried to tell her, but she cried even harder.

  Eventually, it is all over. My body feels exhausted and heavy, and all I want to do is sleep. I close my eyes with the safe feeling of Jack’s hand holding onto mine. In the night I wake up, suddenly, terrified. I raise my head.

  “Where am I?” I gasp.

  Jack leans forward. “Home. You’re home, baby.”

  “Oh.” I lean back on the soft pillows. How silly of me. Of course I recognize Jack’s ceiling now.

  “How do you feel?” he asks.

  “Thirsty and ravenous for sugar,” I reply.

  He smiles. Slipping his hand under my body, he holds me up while he tucks two more pillows under my back. “I guessed you would,” he says, taking a bar of chocolate from the bedside table. He tears the wrapper off and holds it out to me. I take it and watch him break open a can of Coke. He hands that to me too.

  I take a sip. “Do you want a bite of my chocolate?”

  He shakes his head.

  All of a sudden I feel oddly shy. I drop my eyes and take a bite of the bar of chocolate.

  He puts his finger under my chin. “Never hide from me, Sofia.”

  I swallow the chocolate and look into his eyes. “He didn’t do anything to me,” I blurt out in a rush.

  I see relief cross his eyes. “I’m glad, but even if he had it wouldn’t have changed a thing for me. Nothing can change the way I feel about you. Nothing. You will always be mine and only mine.”

  I try to hold back the tears that burn at the back of my eyes. “I love you so much it hurts.”

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