by Cassia Leo
“I’ve got one of my guys outside.” I turn around to face her when I reach the door. “Stay here. Don’t answer the phone and don’t answer the door for anyone. You got it?”
She nods, and though I can see she’s worried sick, there’s a trace of hope gleaming in her eyes, as well. “Be careful.”
“I will.”
“And, Marco?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t show them any mercy.”
“I won’t.”
Chapter 5
Rebecca
They’re moving us. Finally!
It took a little scheming on our part, and a couple of days of starvation, but Lita and I finally got them to move us out of this basement. Yesterday, we wrapped our breakfast of toast and eggs in large wads of toilet tissue and stuffed them into the toilet until it was completely stopped up. Then we slid our plates back through the flap in the door, empty and covered in blood-soaked tissue. The blood was actually from my finger. But it got their attention.
We finally heard one of our captors’ voices when the jerk came to pick up our plates and yelled, “What the fuck?” We screamed at him that we were both menstruating and the toilet was stopped up. We didn’t hear anything from any of them the rest of yesterday and all day today.
We were beginning to think we’d made a grievous error, until they slipped a typed note, two silk hoods, and two pairs of handcuffs through the slot in the door. The note says to put our shoes on, then cuff one of our hands to the drain under the sink and use the other hand to put the hood over our head. They’re moving us tonight. Which means our plan worked!
They’re giving us ten minutes to get cuffed and ready for them to come down. This is the moment we’ve been waiting for. This is our chance to make a run for it.
Lita’s gray eyes are dulled by the lack of food. She doesn’t usually skip meals. She usually eats six small meals per day. Her biological mother has diabetes and she insists that small regular meals will prevent her from getting it. Nevertheless, five days in a basement eating two to three large meals full of starch has given Lita major heartburn and deadly flatulence. Which has been a source of both tears and laughter for us in our basement prison.
“So you’re going to pretend to pass out from low blood sugar,” Lita whispers as we both sit on the wood floor beneath the utility sink and cuff ourselves to the drainpipe.
She’s the one with the family history of diabetes, but I’m the one who’s going to pretend to pass out. Not that we think they know anything about our family medical history. But I agreed to be the one who fake-faints because I’m the one who took an acting class at Hunter College. Something I’m seriously regretting right now.
“What if they don’t care that I passed out? Or what if they try to force-feed me some candy or something?”
“Then we’ll go to Plan B.”
“Which is…?”
“Scratch, claw, punch, and scream.”
I haven’t told Lita about the possibility that I might be pregnant. It just seems so unlikely with Knox’s history; vasectomy reversals don’t always go well. And I don’t want to see the pity or relief in Lita’s eyes if we find out later that I’m not pregnant. Because, yes, it will be disappointing. No matter how hard I’ve tried not to think about what it would be like to have a child with Knox, I’ve had nothing but time to think about that for the past five days.
But time is running out. They’ll be down to retrieve us any minute now. I don’t have time to tell Lita all the details right now, but she needs to know why I can’t do what she just suggested.
“I can’t do Plan B. I might be pregnant.”
Her mouth drops open. “Oh, my God. Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”
“Like I said. I might be pregnant. I don’t know for sure yet.”
“You need to eat something. We never should have antagonized them.”
“You didn’t know they were going to withhold our food.”
“I’m so sorry. How are you feeling?” She uses her free hand to brush my grimy hair out of my face and something about this gesture gets me all emotional.
“Honestly, I do feel like I’m going to pass out any second here.” I grab my black silk hood and nod at the hood in her lap. “We have to put these on. They’ll be down here soon.”
We give each other a one-armed hug before we pull our hoods over our heads. My heart is thrumming loudly in my ears and pulsing in my fingertips. I’ve tried to stay hydrated since they stopped feeding us yesterday, but I feel lethargic and light-headed. I couldn’t fight off these guys, not even if they were the ones cuffed and blindfolded.
“I love you, Lita. Even if you were scheming to break up August and me for the past seven months.”
She chuckles, but I hear a trace of a whimper. “I love you, Rebecca. Even if you have terrible taste in men.”
The creak of the basement door swinging open makes me freeze. I can’t see anything through the black fabric, except the crack of light at the base of the hood where it rests on my chest. As soon as I hear the first footstep fall onto the wooden staircase, all I can hear is the thunderous pounding of my heartbeat. My entire body begins to shake as adrenaline is dumped into my bloodstream. My fingers get cold and numb as the blood rushes away from my extremities back to my vital organs.
My last thought before I pass out is that I don’t need to pretend anymore.
Chapter 6
Knox
Dave MacMillan drove me to Marie’s tonight. He’s only completed a few jobs with me, but he’s a good guy. He came highly recommended by my top security adviser. He was Special Ops in Iraq for a few years before he took a private security job in Saudi Arabia. He’s a sharp shooter and his reflexes are better than Bruno’s and Billy’s, but he’s a hothead. He tends to act without thinking. With Billy dead and Bruno clinging to life in a Vermont hospital, Dave is my best alternative. I hope he doesn’t fuck this up for me.
“It’s one story with a basement. You approach from the front and sweep the first floor. I’m approaching from the alley. That’s most likely where they’re coming in and out. They may be hiding out in the garage or the shed.” We load up our holsters and pack some more ammunition in our pockets. I didn’t come prepared for this. No bulletproof vest this time. “Then we’ll rendezvous in the kitchen; you’ll cover me as I go into the basement. Got it?”
He nods and the gleam in his eyes makes me a little nervous. It’s been too long since he’s been on one of these missions. He’s thirsty for blood.
We split up at the corner and I motion toward the alley to let him know I’m moving on. He continues down the street toward the house where I grew up. The place where it all began.
I get to the rear fence of the house on the corner and peek my head into the alley. The back of a white van is sticking halfway out of my old garage. The same garage where I brought to life a ’67 Mustang.
Either that’s a very long white van or these guys are headed out soon. As this thought crosses my mind, a big guy in dark clothing and a white knit cap appears at the back of the van. His hand is locked around the arm of a hooded figure. A female. She’s barefoot and thin, but way too tall to be Rebecca. It must be Lita.
She doesn’t fight him until he shoves her into the back of the van. Her long, thin legs flail out, trying to kick the guy as he walks away. He doesn’t pay her any attention as he disappears around the other side of the van.
My heart pounds as I anticipate where he went. Is Rebecca already inside that van or did he just go to retrieve her? My question is answered seconds later when he returns to the van carrying the limp body of a woman. Though she appears to be dead, her hands are still cuffed in front of her and her head is covered in a black hood.
It’s her.
My veins floods with pure madness and wild determination. I’m going to kill every last one of these motherfuckers.
My vision becomes more focused as my hearing is trained on every movement the guy in the cap makes. He sets Re
becca down in the back of the van and slams the doors shut. I wait for him to step away from the van, then I fire.
The shot sounds like a soft pop through my silencer. It won’t wake anyone in this alley. And the shot to the head is sure to do the trick. But this alley is bound to be crawling with goons in a matter of seconds.
Exactly what I’m hoping for.
The first one arrives to check on his buddy, and I take a clean shot at the hand that holds his weapon. His gun skids across the pavement in the alley and the guy looks straight at me. From where I’m standing just thirty yards away, I smile; then I pull the trigger once more and he falls slumped over his friend.
I don’t know what’s going on inside the house with Dave, but I’m guessing that most of these guys are already outside if they were planning on moving Rebecca and Lita tonight. They probably heard of Tony’s downfall in Vermont, and now they’re enacting a new plan.
I see the muzzle of the gun first as it peeks around the corner of the garage, then a corner of the guy’s head. He needs to come out further if he wants to take a shot at me.
“I’m right here, motherfucker! Take your best shot!”
He steps out at the same time another guy appears from behind the van. I take out the guy behind the van in one shot, but the other guy gets a shot off. It whizzes past my neck and gets my heart racing, but my next shot hits him in the chest.
Four guys. Could there be more?
As if I’ve asked this question to the heavens, I get a response a second later. “All clear! I’m coming out!”
It’s Dave’s voice. He steps into the alley and my muscles relax a little. He doesn’t appear to be shot. Not that I expected him to be. His aim is better than mine.
I race toward the garage, my chest ready to burst with a mixture of relief and worry. I’m finally going to see Rebecca. This five-day nightmare is almost over. Unless her limp body was an indication that I arrived too late.
I’m ten yards from the garage when the van backs up so fast, the tires squeal against the pavement. Whoever’s in the driver’s seat shifts into drive and takes off past Dave, speeding down the alley away from me. Dave raises his gun and shoots at the driver’s side, but he hits the back window instead.
“Stop!” I roar at him. “Rebecca is in there, you dumbfuck!”
His eyes are narrowed as I approach him, still staring at the end of the alley where the white van got away. “Sorry, boss.”
I could rip this asshole to shreds right now. “Just get in the fucking car!”
I head toward a sporty Cadillac STS that was parked next to the white van in the garage. It’s running with the keys in the ignition. Dave slides into the driver’s seat and peels out of the garage and down the alley after the van.
We catch up to the van on 65th Street. Then he heads straight onto the expressway. He’s headed for the bridge.
Good, he’ll have a tough time getting away when he hits the one a.m. pedestrian traffic in Chinatown. Once he’s on the expressway, he guns it, but we stay on his tail at ninety miles-per-hour. He swerves to avoid the occasional car, but we never lose him.
Dave speeds up a bit until he’s almost on the van’s bumper. I point my gun at him and he slows down to put a safer distance between us and the van. I shouldn’t have to tell Dave how fucking important it is that we hang back. At this speed, a small tap on the bumper will send the van careening across the expressway.
I keep hoping the van will slow down to take one of the exits, or that we’ll hit some traffic, but neither happens. My stomach and jaw are clenched, waiting for him to get to the bridge. He’ll have to slow down at least a little when he hits the bridge.
Six minutes later, he slows down to sixty-five and gets into the right lane to take the bridge exit.
“Now?” Dave asks.
“Not yet. Let them get on the bridge first.”
The van slows down even more to take the curve on the exit ramp. When the curve ends, Dave glances at me.
“Not yet. The guardrail is only a few feet high here.”
As soon as I say this, the van speeds up to get onto the bridge and Dave speeds up. When we pass the green and white sign for FDR Drive, and the metal railing encloses us on all sides like a cage, I give Dave the green light.
“Pull up on his left.”
Dave pulls into the left lane and speeds up a little so I can take out the left rear tire before he can speed up any more. The van swerves a little. The tire shreds and flies off, but it only slows him down a little. I nod my head and Dave takes us over to the other side and I shoot out the other rear tire. This causes him to lose control and the van slides into the guardrail on the right side of the bridge.
The driver’s side door and the back door fly open at the same time. I don’t know where to look as Dave stops the car next to the disabled van. The skinny guy who jumps out of the van races across the bridge, nearly getting run over by a taxi that’s trying to pass us up.
I raise my gun and point it at him as he rushes toward the pedestrian bridge. I’m about to squeeze the trigger when I hear the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard.
“Knox?”
I turn toward the back of the van and Lita is helping Rebecca out. I drop my gun and race to her. If there’s one thing I’ve learned over the past five days, it’s that love always trumps vengeance.
I wrap my arms around her, lifting her out of the van. She holds onto my neck, but I can feel the weakness in her embrace.
“My princess.” I kiss her temple and squeeze her gently. “Baby, are you okay? Did they hurt you?”
“No,” she whispers hoarsely. “But I could really go for a slice of pizza right now.”
I tilt my head back to look her in the eye. Her brown eyes are a bit sunken in, but they’re still burning with that fire they always get when she’s near me. She’s telling me the truth.
“I’ll get you anything you want.” I kiss her forehead and her lips hint at a smile. “But first I have one thing to do.”
I set her down on the bridge as the soft sound of sirens rises in the distance. Then I kneel down on one knee and take her left hand in mine. I plant a soft kiss on her knuckles and she covers her mouth with her other hand.
“Rebecca Veneto, I love you.” I take a deep breath, keeping my gaze trained on her eyes so I don’t lose my grasp on this shred of certainty. “I’ve never said those words to any woman other than my ma. But they’ve never been more true.
“For ten years, you were the girl of my dreams. Losing you five days ago was the beginning of my nightmare. I’ve been chasing my tail trying to track you down. You drive me crazy.” She smiles down at me and I swallow hard. “The past few days without you have made me sick. I don’t ever want to be without you again. I want you next to me, safe, for the rest of my life. Will you marry me… in two or three years?”
She laughs out loud at this. I don’t know if the tears streaming down her face are a good or bad sign, but my stomach is in knots waiting for her to say something. Then she nods, and I feel as if I could fly to the moon.
“Yes!” she says brightly. “Yes, I’ll marry you. I’ll marry you in two years, three years, or a hundred years. Yes!”
She falls to her knees and I kiss her for the first time in five days. And for the first time in ten years, I’m free.
Chapter 7
Rebecca
The question and answer session at the 7th Precinct in the Lower East Side is short. Lita and I are questioned separately, but our lack of injuries corroborates our story that we were not assaulted while in captivity.
They question Knox and Dave about what happened at Marco’s old house and they have expert answers. They’re just Good Samaritans who stumbled upon a crime in progress. Lita and I appeared to be in “imminent peril.” They defended themselves while trying to protect Lita and me from further injury.
We leave the 7th Precinct at 3:40 a.m., getting a glimpse of the van’s driver in another interrogation room on the way out. Our
police escort drops Lita off at her apartment first.
“Call me when you wake up. You owe me brunch,” Lita says as she leans over and kisses my cheek.
“You’re the one who stood me up,” I tease her.
She shakes her head as she slides out of the back of the police car, then pokes her head back inside. “And don’t forget to tell me about you-know-what?”
She slams the car door shut and drags herself up the front steps of her apartment building. I glance at Knox to see if he knows what she was referring to, and he’s wearing that cunning half-smile. I can’t hide anything from this man.
Officer Helms drops us off at Knox’s apartment. Despite his injuries, Knox insists on carrying me up the front steps and the staircase to the second floor master bathroom. I can see him gritting his teeth against the pain, but he refuses to let me go.
We take a long, luxurious shower together. Washing away every bit of the last five days. I’m careful when I scrub the right side of his chest where he took a bullet to his vest.
“Whose blood is this?” I ask as I scrub a bit of caked blood off his forearm.
His gaze falls to the floor and my stomach aches as I wait for him to respond. “Your father didn’t make it out.”
My entire body gets weak and Knox catches me around the waist before I collapse. I fall into his arms and he holds me tightly against him as I cry.
I know my father wasn’t a great man. Maybe he wasn’t even a good man. But I loved him. And I know everything he did was to protect my mother and me—and Marco. To provide us with the best and to deliver us the justice he believed we deserved.
And now I’ll never be able to tell him that I forgive him. I forgive him for what he did to Frank Mainella. I forgive him for loving two women at once. I forgive him for not knowing that I’ve needed him every day for the last four years we were apart.