That was why I needed her knocked out when I first saw the mark. I couldn’t give anything away. She knew who had taken her, and it was personal. I’d never bothered to ask more, because I didn’t give a fuck, and I didn’t want to know. But now, having heard about the brand on Mateo Castellano, I needed to know.

After putting the ring away, I made myself something to eat, wanting to be sure she was out before I went back in there. After waiting over an hour, I took the key out of my pocket and unlocked the door. Light from the room I was in shone on her motionless form on the bed, tucked tight beneath the blanket. I made my way to the bed to make sure she was out. She was. From the locked chest, I took out a lightbulb and screwed it into the ceiling from where I’d removed it before Gia’s arrival. I then switched on the light, not too bright but bright enough. Gia didn’t stir.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, I pulled the blanket back, guilt gnawing at me when the scent of sex wafted off her. I hadn’t meant to do what I’d done earlier. I’d wanted to let her know I was back, and I was in charge. But then, watching her like that…hell, I had wanted her.

I guessed she hadn’t been able to shower before the drug had knocked her out.

She mumbled something and rolled onto her back.

Avoiding what I had to do, I went back to my room and returned with a clean washcloth, towel, and soap. Remembering the toothbrush I’d picked up for her, I set it, still in its packaging, on the edge of the sink in her bathroom. I then ran hot water over the washcloth and rubbed the bar of soap over it until it was sudsy. After ringing the excess moisture out, I went back to her and gently cleaned her face, chest, and belly, rinsing off the cloth twice more as I washed her thighs and her sex until the scent was gone. I patted her dry with the clean towel, all the while watching her.

I could tell myself all I wanted to that it was to make sure she didn’t wake up, but I knew it was a lie. In a way, I felt something for her that I hadn’t for any of the other unfortunate girls who’d lain in this same bed. I could usually put a wall up between myself and the job—whatever or whoever that job was. With her, though, I couldn’t put my finger on any particular reason why that wall wasn’t staying up. It had for all of five minutes when I’d entered this room the first time. Maybe it was the physical attraction, the pull I felt toward her. Maybe it was the mark on her hip. Maybe I subconsciously knew already, had felt already, that this was different. I didn’t know. I just knew I needed to get on with it and see the damn thing once and for all.