He ran a finger down my arm, "You really are shit in the sack."

I gave him a weak smile, "Back at ya, babe."

He laughed, "Servario's a weird guy. I will give him that."

I looked out the window, "I think he just wanted my father to know he was doing unspeakable things to me. He has hated my father for a long time."

James sighed, "That’s true, he has."

We rode the rest of the way along the dark highway in silence. The car drove for a couple hours, until finally, I could see a city again. We drove down to a harbor and out onto a pier. James nodded at the guard who got out and dragged me down the pier to a massive yacht. A man, looking very much like the supposedly-dead Russian mobster, Michele Strophsky, came out onto the wooden pier. He gave me a once over, "Is that who I think that is?"

My eyes widened as did his fat smile. My father had helped him get out of Russia during the Cold War. He had saved the man from the firing squad. My father convinced the US government to protect him and let him testify against the war criminals. So when he asked, "You mind if I have a go at that, James?" I was stunned.

James laughed, "You want to be first, do you? Yeah, have at it. She should be on a boat to a brothel right now anyway. You might as well break her in for Anderson."

Michele laughed, exactly the way he did when I used to watch him on surveillance, "I remember her father well. Take her to my cabin, clean her up." His Russian accent was so thick, I could barely catch what he said.

James looked past Michele, "Is M here?"

Michele nodded, "She is here and will meet you below. He's here too."

A new guard dragged me up onto the huge boat and down a hall. I stumbled but my dragging feet were no match for his brute strength. He tossed me into a room, "Clean up."

He slammed the door. I stood staring at the door to the room and waited. There had to be meaning in it. There had to be a reason. My mind circled back through the things Servario and I had discussed. He had begged me not to love him, the expression in his green eyes had been heartbreaking. Then he leaned me against the shower and whispered things in my ear.

They ran through my mind…

"Trust me Evie, no matter how bad it gets. Trust me."

I pressed my hand against the locked door and nodded, "I trust you." I forced myself to trust him, no matter how bad it was about to get. I pushed off of the door and turned and walked into the bathroom off to the side of the room. My face was bloody and swollen. Thinking about touching it hurt. I slid my fingers along either side of my crooked nose, took a deep breath, and I cracked it back into place. Tears streamed down my cheeks, taking dried blood with them. My hands and face shook from the overwhelming pain I was in. New blood poured from my nostrils as I stripped down and climbed into the shower.

Servario's words trickled into my brain as the hot water poured down on me, "Evie, I need you to remember that I will be back for you. It'll feel like I'm leaving. You'll feel alone." He lifted my face up into his, "I will be back for you."

I shivered in the hot water, shaking with terror and uncertainty. I closed my eyes, remembering the day at boot camp. I was young, fit, and determined.

The water poured down my head as the image of that day and the pain from the fall that broke my wrist danced behind my eyes. I had ripped my sleeve off and wrapped it around my wrist as a feeling I had never felt before took over my body. It wasn’t fear or apprehension like it should have been. It was bitter hatred and determination. I had finished that course with angry tears washing my cheeks and a bone sticking out of my skin. Coop was right. There was a girl inside of me that was like no other girl. She could and would do anything for her country. My country was still important, but there in the shower, it was mostly about my kids.

I stepped out of the shower and smiled at the horror facing me in the mirror. No matter what James or anyone else did to me, I was that girl. I was stronger, meaner, and more determined than any man could ever be. I pushed my kids to the back of my mind. I let old Evie crawl her wicked way from my skin.

I wiped the steam from the mirror and prepared myself for it.

Chapter Thirteen

Mommy Dearest

I pulled on a dress from the closet full of shitty clothes. I almost missed Roxy and her collection. At least those clothes were top shelf. These were nasty. I looked at myself in the simple dress and smoothed the sides against me. I shook my head at the girl in the mirror. She looked like hell.

I ignored it and laid back on the bed. I took a deep breath of confidence in, my last one, and exhaled into the feeble girl I knew all too well how to be. I curled up into a ball on the bed and started to prepare myself for the intrusion I was, no doubt, about to face. I had to think about the fact there was a possibility a man might enter my body. I might be raped. I might not be able to fight back. I had to make a huge decision—was the entrance of my va**na the death of me?

My va**na had an answer, a hearty f**k yes. There was no way I was getting raped. I would die before I allowed that. With that new rule in place in my mind, I tried to come up with a plan. Fortunately, I waited for some time before the handle on the door jiggled. With wide eyes and a pounding heart, I jerked as the door opened. Michele, a man I knew as well as I knew any, gave me a wide smile, "Evie, how are you?"

I sobbed, "Please, Michele, don’t do this. You know my father, you were his friend."

He laughed, making my stomach curdle. His dark-brown eyes looked sinister beneath the huge, hairy eyebrows and greasy dark hair. His wide nose and broad lips reminded me of a cartoon character. He licked his fat lips, "Evie, this isn’t personal. This is business. You have stolen from your husband and worked against him with the government. You have to be taught a lesson. Besides, your father is a double-crossing bastard."

I flinched, hugging my legs into my body tighter.

He locked the door, dropping his gun onto the bed, "Do I need that, Evie, or are you going to be a good girl?"

I shook my head, squeezing my eyes shut, "Please, don’t do this. Please."

He laughed again, "You are so different than before. Motherhood tends to ruin the woman inside."

Fury burned inside of me, but I kept the façade going. I felt the boat take off just slightly as the bed rocked and tilted. When I opened my eyes, he was undoing his pants, "Because you used to be CI and your father was my friend, I'll give you the benefit of choosing. You want to suck before it goes inside of you or after?"

I shook my head. He shrugged, "Okay, after. I like it better that way. Less mess for me to clean up."

I gagged, making him laugh harder. He jumped onto the bed, pinning me and squishing me into the soft foam mattress. His garlic breath and BO mixed harshly with the idea of licking him clean. I gagged again. He sat up, "You turn over, I don’t want to look at the bruising. That’s not my style. I like pretty girls, you look like shit and too old to be doing this."

I almost choked him. Instead, I swallowed hard and nodded my head, "Okay." He climbed off of me, watching the sheer linen dress shift over my na**d body. I was breathing heavily, acting like this was a big deal. But my head was somewhere else. I was in the act I was about to commit.

I started to roll over. I lifted my leg high, letting him get a good view up my dress. His eyes widened as he saw my pu**y. I could almost see his lips turn up into a grin. He didn’t see my leg pull in or my foot flex. He never stood a chance.

By the time I was making contact with his windpipe with my heel, his eyes were just leaving my thighs. The crack of his throat was nasty. I pushed off of the bed, wrapping my legs around his fat throat and slamming him on the bed behind me. I sat on his fat face and snatched his gun up from the bottom of the bed. His huge hands were trying to grip at my legs, but I grabbed the gun and held it to his red face. He was struggling for air and with the pain of a crushed windpipe, when I smacked him in the face with his gun. I held him with my legs until I was sure he was unconscious. The crushed windpipe meant he would die, but at least he would be quiet about it. I pulled on his pants and shirt, gagging at the smell of them. I wrapped the belt around my waist twice and tied it together with a sock. A stinky, foul sock. At least it was better than the slutty dresses.

Shit.

I tied his shirt so it was tight to my body and rolled him into the sheets better. He was still gurgling slightly. I tucked him in tight, pulling the covers over his head. Taking a deep breath, I stuffed his gun in the back of my pants and tied my hair up into a bun. My eyes were swollen from the broken nose, but I ignored it as I opened the door. I heard voices coming down the hallway and closed the door again. I locked the door and pushed a chair against the doorknob. I looked around the room, stopping when I got to the curtains. The feel of the moving boat didn’t make me feel better about my decision. I walked across the room, pulling the curtains back and moaned when I saw the small porthole. I looked down at the huge pants, sighing, "Shit."

I stripped to my dirty underwear I had put back on and opened the small window. The wind and spray made its way into the room instantly. I looked up into the dark night to see a metal railing.

Shit.

I tucked the gun into my bra, looking at its positioning nervously. Maybe not the smartest idea. I stuffed it at a different angle, if it went off, at least it would only slightly maim me. I grabbed the railing, my hands slipping almost on the cold, wet metal, and pulled myself to the sitting position in the window. My torso just slipped through the round hole. I pulled the gun out of my bra and dropped it onto the deck above me. I squirmed my ass through the hole, gripping the railing and realizing as we coasted along the Italian coastline, that it was a bad idea to climb out the window. I couldn’t get my knees through without doing a full pull-up. My arms shook a bit, but I managed to drag myself from the window to the point where my feet could stand on the ledge of the open porthole.

I narrowed my gaze, trying to see what was what on the boat. The cool sea air made my broken nose burn. My eyes watered as I jumped, dragging myself as hard as I could, crawling with my toes up the side of the slippery boat until I was at the top. I flopped onto the deck, wincing and groaning. I almost laughed, imagining Coop standing there telling me how graceful that was. My back was aching where I landed on the gun. I looked around, no one was out on the deck. It was cold and they were moving, they weren’t expecting anyone to be on board. I picked the gun up and found my footing amongst the ropes and deck chairs. I slipped along the side, marveling at the beauty of the yacht. I imagined Servario's looked similar.