He blinked before meeting her gaze for the first time. The doctor’s complexion was pasty, and he sweated profusely. “I can’t go against Peretti.”
She bit her lip to hold in a tide of angry words. “Fine but go to the police. Give them an anonymous tip or something.”
He looked anguished. “I can’t.” Before she could protest, he held up a hand. “I would, but I don’t even know where we are. His man picked me up at my office, injected me with a sedative I had been instructed to prepare in advance, and I woke up on that stretcher about thirty minutes ago.”
Disappointment surged through her, both for Aldo’s other victim and herself.
He leaned closer, pitching his voice low. “I’m not performing surgery on you without anesthetic. I’m not a sadistic fucker. I’m trapped, but I don’t have to be merciless. I’m going to numb you up, but then I need you to scream and carry on for a few minutes. Feign passing out after that, and he’ll never know the difference.”
She nodded, surprised by the small gesture of kindness and managing a shred of pity for the surgeon, who was clearly here against his will as much as she was. That wasn’t completely comforting when she was the one strapped to the table and he had the scalpel.
A couple of minutes later, she caught her breath as cool liquid spilled over her vagina, presumably to sterilize her. Then she winced at the first prick of the needle, and two more. After that, she didn’t feel anything.
“Okay, start screaming,” the doctor murmured a minute later.
Mia wailed and screamed for all she was worth, cursing Aldo with all the things she’d wanted to say to him throughout the years, but had been too frightened to utter even at her most defiant. About five minutes into her ordeal, the bastard came to the doorway of the room to watch her suffering.
Her voice was hoarse and her throat hurt from the screaming. She had chafed her wrists while trying to break free of the restraints under his watchful eye. It seemed like a good moment to lose consciousness. Drawing on acting skills she hadn’t known she possessed—and prayed weren’t too melodramatic—she rolled her eyes back, trembled a couple of times, and closed her eyelids as she slumped onto the table.
She could hear him approach and tried to regulate her breathing.
“What happened? Is she dead?”
“No, of course not. It was the pain, Mr. Peretti. I’m surprised she was aware for even that amount of time.”
“Hmm. Can you revive her? I want her to feel everything.”
Mia barely managed to avoid a gasp, but the doctor’s shocked squeaked seemed to mask her own lapse in even breathing.
“No, sir. Too much strain on the system could kill her.”
“I don’t want that.” Aldo stroked her arm before cupping her breast. “I want to enjoy Mia for a long time to come. If she dies, you and your entire family will die very slowly and painfully, Sandoval.”
“I understand.” Rage and frustration underlay the doctor’s response.
Mia had to force herself to remain still as he pinched her nipple forcefully enough to make her eyes burn with unshed tears. The disgusting bastard had a painful death coming his way if she ever got the opportunity.
“Can I finish up here, Mr. Peretti? You make me nervous with your hovering.”
Aldo laughed, clearly delighted to intimidate someone else. “Yeah, okay. Do a good job making her cunt the tightest little virgin passage ever, and we’ll be square. Hell, I’ll even give you a discount on product in the future.”
Mia flinched slightly at the revelation her doctor wasn’t quite the victim he’d painted himself to be.
“I quit that stuff last year. I’m trying to move on with my family, sir.”
“Yeah, you addicts all say that, but you always find your way back to the White Lady. Just like me and my little virgin. I always find her.” It sounded like he clapped the doctor on the shoulder before leaving the room.
“I’m done with it,” he whispered, though it was unclear if he was talking to himself or her.
Mia didn’t bother to reply. For one thing, she didn’t want Aldo to know she wasn’t actually unconscious, and she also didn’t have any fucks left to give for the doctor’s addiction issues. Her own problems were more important and pressing.
* * *
Giordano Peretti, rumored to be Sal Peretti’s favorite nephew, had pissed himself. Shane scowled at him as he pressed the barrel of his pistol a bit deeper into the yielding flesh of the other man’s temple. “I’m running out of patience, Gio. Where is Aldo?”
“I swear I don’t know, O’Mara.” The other man, down on his knees on the rough alleyway, sniffed. It was unclear if he was holding back tears or if the smoke from his burning restaurant was irritating his nasal passages.
He kicked him in the thigh. “Do you want me to drag you back into that blazing building? Would anyone give a rat’s ass if you disappeared, Gio?”
