Passion & Venom (Venom Trilogy Book 1) Read online

  But that’s not what catches me off guard. None of that compares to what really bothers me.

  Ronaldo has no arms. They’ve been butchered—cut from the elbow. All that is left are his upper arms, and this explains why he most likely didn’t want to take my hood off.

  I don’t think it’s me he didn’t want to see. He didn’t want me to see what has been done to him.

  I don’t know what to say. I’m speechless, and I feel nothing but sympathy for this sad, broken man.

  “What have they done to you?” I whisper. I narrow my eyes at him, looking him all over. He avoids my eyes, flaring his nostrils. They’ve tortured this guy for six months.

  “Is your name really Ronaldo?”

  “For now it is.” He smirks.

  I’m surprised to see it.

  “Time for you to state who you are.” He cocks a brow and moves his nubs behind him, as if to hide them. I realize I’m staring and I feel awful. But I can’t help it. The wounds have been sewn together badly, as if they’ve stitched them this way on purpose. They almost look infected.

  I swallow hard. “Gianna. But everyone calls me Gia.”

  “Gianna what?”

  “Gianna Ricci.” Ricci was Antonio’s family name. My maiden name is Nicotera.

  “Ricci? I’ve heard that name floating around here.”

  I frown. “You have?”

  “Yeah. Just last week I heard them saying they were going to crash your wedding. Said they were going to give him what he deserves.”

  I wince. “Did they say a name of who ‘he’ is?”

  Ronaldo clicks his tongue, thinking about it. “I want to say Tito, Titan…shit, I don’t know.” His eyes expand. “Oh—wait. Toni. That’s what it was. Trigger Toni.”

  My heart beats heavier. My mouth feels so much dryer. Toni…

  I look towards the cup in the corner and scramble towards it. It’s full of water, and I wonder why Ronaldo hasn’t drunk any of it.

  “Is this water bad?” I ask.

  “No. But I wouldn’t bother.”

  “Why the hell not? I’m thirsty?”

  “They won’t let you go to a bathroom.”

  I frown, but this water is too tempting. I stare down at it, my fingers clutching the foam. My lips push together. They are so chapped, in need of moisture. I bring the cup up to my lips and guzzle it all down.

  To hell with these bastards. I’ll pee in the cup if I have to.

  Ronaldo shakes his head as I let out a wet gasp and place it down. “You should listen.”

  “I don’t care. I’ll pee in the cup.”

  He laughs bitterly, lowering his head. “Well, that’s where you’re wrong. I had the same mindset, until they came in here, took the cup, and didn’t bring me more water for days. Refused to let me go to the bathroom too.”

  My eyes stretch wide with horror.

  “They give you enough to last. Enough to keep you going. Enough to make sure you don’t die…in here anyway.”

  “Do they…do they feed you?”

  “Slop, really. But I can’t remember the last time I ate. It’s been over a week.”

  “Oh my God.” I slink back against the wall, staring down at my stained gown. “I can’t believe this is happening to me.”

  “Believe it.”

  “I don’t deserve this,” I whimper.

  “Does anyone?”

  I twist my wrists, trying to pull at least one of them free. It’s impossible. They are so tight. Rope doesn’t even seem like the material they’ve used. This rope feels like chains.

  “Do you know who’s in charge?” I ask.

  His eyes dart up to mine and they hold for several seconds. “He’s not here. Won’t be for another week, and you should be glad that he isn’t. That motherfucker is the one who did this to me.” Ronaldo’s eyes glisten with pure hatred as he stares at me.

  The hatred blinds him, as if the mere thought of the person in charge is enough to kill me over.

  I look away. “I’m sorry they did that to you.”

  Ronaldo breathes evenly, but he says no more.

  I should have listened.

  Why in the hell didn’t I listen?!

  I squeeze my thighs together and clench my hands into fists, trying desperately hard to focus on something else—anything else but this. It’s utterly useless. The water that is splashing outside isn’t helping. I have no idea which direction it’s coming from, but for the past few hours, I’ve come to know for sure that we are near a beach.

  Ronaldo said he saw it one day when they brought him back. He thinks we are in a dungeon that they don’t keep too far from the home of whoever is in charge.

  Well, whatever this dungeon is about, I hate that it’s right next to the ocean. I can smell the salty air over the stench of urine.

  Someone came to take the cup, just like Ronaldo said. He wasn’t kidding. I’ve noticed they come in here in regular cycles, every two hours to check on their prisoners. It makes me sick to my stomach to think they are okay with actually having us in here and under these circumstances.

  “I’m going to call for them. They can’t expect me to just pee on myself. I’m human, for Christ’s sake.”

  “And human means what to them?” Ronaldo asks, rolling his eyes. “It means nothing to them. They are sadistic fuckers. You call them in here instead of letting them come themselves and they will first make fun of you, and then make fun with you.” He studies me with hard eyes. “And I don’t think you will like their kind of fun.”

  Fear settles in. My heart drops a bit.

  “I see how they keep looking at you. They’ll rip your pussy to shreds, little girl. Don’t be stupid.”

  I narrow my eyes at him. “Do you have to be a jackass about it?”

  He shrugs.

  I squeeze my thighs again, my foot shaking as if it will help me ignore the urge. I fidget where I sit, staring up at the ceiling. I dig my ragged nails into my palms, hoping it will cause a distraction to my body, but it doesn’t. In fact, I think it enhances the urge.

  I can’t do this. I really have to pee.

  “I have to go,” I groan. I look at Ronaldo and he points at a corner.

  “I’m not peeing in the corner. I can’t even use my hands. I’ll end up peeing all over myself.”

  “Then you don’t really have to pee.” His response is smug. I want to smack that smugness right off of him. I’ve known this guy for less than twenty-four hours and he has been nothing but sarcastic to me.

  Yes, he has been helpful at times, but he is a complete jackass. It’s no wonder he’s here—or why those men did that to him. He has a smart mouth. I’m sure he doesn’t control anything he says.

  I push to a stand, scowling at him. My legs feel weak, and my ankles feel as if they are about to break. My feet move across the rickety, cold wood and when I meet up to the gate, I grab it and look down the hallway.

  I peer towards the door they’ve come in and out of. I can hear them laughing. I can smell marijuana and cigar smoke. A TV sounds like it’s on, and the slightest thought of home hits me.

  I watched movies with Dad all the time and now look where I am.

  Alone. Left for dead.

  “Hey!” I shout down the hallway. My scratchy voice echoes off the gray walls. The laughter stops and the volume of the TV lowers.

  A chair scrapes the floor and then I hear keys jingling. The door shoots open and I gasp as I step back, listening to one of them come closer and closer.

  When he reaches the gates, I nearly have a heart attack. It’s the bald guy who pulled me out of the car—the one with the axe tattoo on his arm. The tattoo is scarred, and I assume that’s courtesy of the stiletto heels of my wedding day shoes.

  He sees me and his eyebrows draw together, his jaw locking. “Why the fuck are you standing, bitch?” he asks, his accent strong.

  “I have to pee,” I say as confidently as possible.

  Axe Man laughs, looking from me to Ronaldo. “Stu
pid cunt.” He turns away quickly, but I shout after him again.

  “Hey!”

  I see a few more men look down the hallway after my outburst. Axe Man turns and storms for the cell, yanking out his keys.

  “You’ve got to pee, huh?” His Spanish voice is thick. He opens the cell with haste and I take two steps back when he walks in. He grabs my shoulder and forces me down to my knees.

  I tremble madly as he unbuckles his belt and whips his cock out. I don’t know what he’s about to do, but I hope he doesn’t force it in my mouth. I swear to God I’ll bite it off if it means even the slightest hint of freedom…or an empty bladder.

  I shut my eyes.

  I can’t look.

  “Please,” I beg. “I—I have to use the bathroom. That’s it.”

  He chuckles. “Shit. So do I.” He stands in front of me, his presence overwhelming. Something hot and wet rolls from my forehead and down to my chin. It smells disgusting.

  Gasping, I open my eyes and lift my hands to swipe as much of it away as I can. I see yellow droplets falling from the tip of his uncircumcised cock and my belly clenches tight.

  The stench of his urine taints my body. It feels like it’s seeping into my pores, ruining everything inside me.

  My heart squeezes in my chest, and the urge to punch him right in the balls is high, but I can’t in time. After he’s peed on me, he slaps a hand across my face and then roughly shoves me backwards. I can’t save myself with my wrists tied, so I collapse backward and my head hits the cold, hardwood floor.

  I groan, but I am too weak to get up or even react. My head was still hurting but now it is pounding.

  “Think about that the next time you need to pee.” Axe Man walks out and shuts the cell door behind him. He locks it up while glaring at me, and when he’s done I watch him disappear.

  My body shakes as I draw my knees up to my chest. I rest my cheek on the cold wood, throat thickening, body quivering with nostalgia and fear.

  My entire body reeks of urine. I can smell it on my lips. My eyes start to leak with unwanted tears. Angry tears. I was so shocked before that I didn’t even realize that while he peed on me, I’d already pissed myself.

  And knowing that I did makes matters much worse. I reek of it all over. In my nice wedding gown. In the dress I thought was going to change my entire life. Well, let me rephrase that. It did change my life in many ways, but none of them have been for the better.

  I look down at my wedding ring through blurry eyes. I’m surprised it’s still there—that they didn’t steal it away from me. Maybe they didn’t see it.

  Good. They can’t take this from me too. Besides my memories, this is all I have left of Toni.

  “That was just a warning,” Ronaldo murmurs. “Next time, don’t be so stupid.” I hear him slide in closer to me. “Look, you want to survive here, you keep your fucking mouth shut and do as they say. You don’t fucking speak or call for them. Don’t talk unless they tell you to. Are you trying to end up like me?” he hisses.

  I avoid his eyes, staring at the gray wall across from me. My body shivers, and the ocean sounds grow louder, almost like the waves are coming closer. I try listening harder, see if there may be some gulls flying around, but I hear nothing.

  It’s so quiet that it’s deafening.

  My chest squeezes tight, restricting each breath that I take. Normally, I try to see the positive outcome of things. If I have an issue in life that I don’t see a way out of, I remain true to myself and keep my faith.

  Well, there is no faith here. There is no mercy or love. I see that now, and I should have known that from the moment they killed Toni right in front of me.

  I have to survive this. I don’t care if I have to keep fighting. I need to survive…

  But right now I have to cry.

  Because in this moment, I am frail.

  I have been belittled.

  I feel lost.

  God, I am so fucking scared.

  What the hell do I do now?

  Chapter Three

  Day 2

  “Do you understand them?” My voice comes out hoarse as I focus on Ronaldo.

  He side-eyes me. “Some of it. Not all.” His eyebrows dip. “Do you?”

  “I am fluent in Spanish,” I murmur. “I understand everything they’re saying…but I’ll pretend I don’t for now.”

  He’s intrigued to hear this. He perks up a little, picking his head up off the wall. “Who taught you?”

  “My dad put me in private courses. He used to tell me, ‘Gia, we must be smart. We must know everything. We can’t second-guess. We have to feed ourselves with knowledge.’” I sigh. “I used to hate the courses he’d set up with a private tutor, especially during the summer, but it took me only one year and a half to learn. I guess it’s paid off now.”

  “Don’t let them find out,” he insists, shaking his head. “You’re better off playing clueless. Make it your secret weapon.”

  “When we came to Mexico, I thought it would be a great opportunity for me to get to know the culture personally—the people.” My chest tightens and I point my gaze down at my dirty feet. “I wish we hadn’t gotten married here now. I regret deciding on this place. I just wanted something different—exotic. Fun. Toni guaranteed fun…but he lied. He never told me anything about this.”

  I feel Ronaldo looking at me, but he says nothing.

  “Do you have a lot of family?” I ask.

  I hear his stomach growl after I ask. He’s hungry, but refuses to eat. If he doesn’t he’ll die in here and from what I’m seeing he has way too much pride to die in a place this disgusting.

  “Family,” he scoffs. “You mean traitors?”

  “No…I mean family. People you can rely on. People that are probably wondering where you are right now.”

  He looks at me beneath his eyelashes, his oily hair clinging to his forehead. It’s more humid in here.

  I can smell myself. I smell horrible. Like I am rotting in my most delicate places.

  “Family is worthless,” he grumbles. “They’ve never been there for me. It’s probably why I’m in the situation I’m in now. No arms. Losing my dignity day by day. It’s what he wanted.”

  “Who?” I whisper.

  “The boss.”

  “Do you not know his name?”

  “No. They all just call him the boss or Jefe. Never by his real name. He probably considers it a privilege for someone to call him by his given name.”

  I study my chipped fingernails. “Why are you really here? What did you do?”

  He doesn’t say anything for a while. I hear the water outside again, the birds cawing. Their songs are getting more and more beautiful by the hour. It gives me hope to know there is still life outside of this rank cell.

  “You really want to know?” he finally asks.

  And I look up, straightening my back. “Is it bad?”

  He smirks. “Let’s just say I’m surprised I’m not dead yet.”

  A door creaks open and then slams shut and I press my back against the wall. I look over towards the cell entrance, listening to the footsteps. They are quick and heavy.

  A man with white hair finally appears. He’s skinny and tall, but his eyes are dark, beady, and distant. I can tell that, just like Axe Man, he’s lost his humanity as well. There is no compassion in those eyes. Only darkness.

  “Get up,” he demands, eyeing me as he walks into the cell. He speaks in English, just like Axe Man, to my surprise.

  “Why?” I mutter.

  Grimacing, he bends down and snatches me up by the elbow. My body rocks unsteadily, hitting the nearest wall when he shoves me back. Pain shoots up my spine, but it’s not as harsh as the chill I feel when he steps closer to me.

  “You’re a pretty one, huh?” He speaks in Spanish now, his accent heavy and thick. His breath reeks of beer and peanuts. “I would love to know how that pussy feels. I bet it’s nice and wet, right mami?”

  He probably thinks I don’t under
stand what he’s saying. I try swallowing the bile in my throat, but it’s impossible. My mouth is so dry. I can taste the blood on my lips every time I move them. They are chapped beyond repair.

  My eyes shoot over his shoulder at Ronaldo. He simply shakes his head, most likely telling me that I should say and do nothing.

  “Don’t worry that tight little pussy.” He grabs my wrists and yanks me forward. The pain from the tug burns deep. I gasp as he clutches my face in hand. “I’ll let the boss have the honors before he lets us do what we want with you.” Shoving me back against the wall, he pulls out a knife and cuts through the rope. The blade is so close to my skin that I feel it’s coolness.

  He watches me closely, refusing to look away. As soon as my arms are free, I slide down the wall, relieved.

  I bring my hands up to study my bruised wrists. I almost want to cry because I can see whiteness beneath the cuts. I’m surprised I haven’t lost feelings in my hands yet.

  The man focuses on my face. His beady eyes trace the outline of my cleavage, and then he steps closer with a sneer. “Get comfortable in here. You won’t be going anywhere for a while.”

  I look away, staring at the ground. When he walks to the cell door with the rope, he locks it behind him and then walks off, but not before eyeballing me again. He still has a sly grin on his face, and seeing it makes my skin crawl.

  When I hear the door slam, I finally release a breath, sliding my back down the wall as I rub my raw wrists.

  Ronaldo looks at my wrists before shifting his eyes up to meet mine. “Better?”

  “Much better.”

  “Don’t get too comfortable,” he says as he lies on his back and stares up at the ceiling. “They never leave you alone for long. Welcome to hell, Gia.”

  Chapter Four

  Day 3

  I was only twenty-two when Toni told me he loved me. It was random but I will never be able to forget it.

  “Gia baby…you know you’re my world. My girl. My giiirrrlll!” Toni’s voice screeched as he played his acoustic guitar. He sounded terrible with his deep, gravelly voice. I laughed so damn hard, and he dropped his guitar so quick, it seemed unreal. His face turned serious, but his eyes were still playful.