by Seth Eden
Emotion swirled behind those eyes of his, the most obvious of which was surprise.
What had surprised him?
I stared at him, trying to ascertain why he’d kept his father from killing me, but the emotion behind his eyes became as abruptly blocked from view as if he’d slammed shutters over them. I watched as Angelo tore his concentration from me to this other man and was shocked to hear the older man give a harsh, mirthless laugh.
“Well, well, well,” Angelo said, the tone of his voice hard for me to classify. He’d been absolutely livid, but now that he was focused on his son, I realized there were two different emotions in his voice vying for supremacy. One was disappointment. But the other… the one that seemed the strongest, sounded like relief. “Interesting.”
I had no idea what he meant by this, and I continued to feel baffled as the older man flipped something on his gun and laid it on a nearby table.
His gaze hardened again as he turned toward the shadows. “Can you remove the… offense?”
“Yes, Father,” Alessandro answered from just beyond my sight.
“See that you do.” He then turned to his other son. “She is your responsibility, Luca.”
Luca nodded, sending a swift but unfathomable look in my direction. “Yes, Father.”
4
Luca
Once my father left the room, I scrutinized the woman I’d become responsible for, wondering what the hell I’d been thinking. I’d defied the patriarch of our family, and I couldn’t even explain why. All I knew was I didn’t want her brains splattered over the acid-washed concrete of our floor.
Which didn’t make sense, really. Why had I intervened? What difference did it make if she died? My father had dispatched numerous others for far less, both in this room and elsewhere.
I signaled for Marco to make himself useful. He’d been standing there in the shadows, one foot braced against the brick and mortar wall as he took in the proceedings. Without a word, he retrieved the switchblade from his pocket and sliced through the plastic zip ties restraining the woman. Grabbing her by the arms and bringing her to her feet, he pushed her into the next room.
A room we generally used to extract information.
The wall that separated it from the larger space had been constructed of two-inch thick rebar laid out in a crisscross pattern not even a hand could pass through. The ends of each of these bars had been cast in cement nothing short of C4 could hope to breach. Then, there was the thick padlock.
In this cell sat a metal bunk bolted to the floor, sans mattress. A bucket serving as the only restroom had been stationed in one corner. Not exactly five-star accommodations.
And never before used to hold a woman.
Of course, few women would ever do what this one had. I flipped a switch on the wall which activated the long fluorescent light fixture over the cell. The harsh bluish light exposed her to our view, allowing us to keep an eye on her without difficulty. It also lit the rest of the room, showing where Alessandro sat at a nearby card table, working to take down the offending video.
Once she’d been secured, Marco went back to his place on the wall, digging a bright green apple out of his suit jacket. Using the same switchblade, he sliced off a section and offered it to me. I shook my head and he shrugged, eating it himself. He swallowed, then jerked his chin toward the cell. “This one may be more trouble than she’s worth.”
“Perhaps,” I said, quietly.
“I can hear you, you know,” the woman said, and I went to stand behind Alessandro, glancing at the notes he’d made on her.
“Molly RaeAnne Greene. Former server and cook, current in-house chef—”
“Not anymore,” she interrupted me. Her impertinence seemed to know no bounds.
“Excuse me?” I asked in a voice that made many cower before me. Not her, though.
“I quit. Yesterday. I got sick of their bullshit.”
Still cutting up his apple, Marco snorted. I sent him a warning glance and despite continuing to smirk, he fell silent. “Two misdemeanor charges of shoplifting as a minor. Completed education through the eleventh grade only. No college credits to your name. Daughter of Bill and Janet Greene, sister of Tara.”
I studied the woman to see her reaction to us having so much knowledge of her past. She regarded me with a blank, flat stare until I mentioned her sister’s name, then her whiskey brown eyes broadened with a flash of fear. She covered it swiftly, but not swiftly enough. She didn’t appear to care about any of the other facts I’d mentioned, but she did care about her sister.
She didn’t speak, so I went on. “Marital status: single. Age: twenty-five. Currently appearing on a YouTube channel under the username of Masked Mardi. Number of followers at last count: 998. No other known professional affiliations.” Slowly, almost carelessly, I stepped toward her. She’d remained on her feet, her stance firm and wary.
“999,” she said, putting her hands on her hips. When I simply stared at her, she spoke again. “You said 998 but it’s actually 999 followers. I checked it right before I put up my latest video.” Her purpose had clearly been to correct me.
“She’s got some balls on her, I’ll give her that,” this came from Sandro. “It’s done.” I nodded at him. My father would be pleased to hear that her clips had been obliterated from every available feed online.
I continued toward her, stopping right outside the bars. When I’d first seen her on her channel, she’d seemed like nothing remarkable. One of the countless YouTube hosts using the medium as their own personal soapbox. But being in her direct presence felt different. There was something about her. Something unusual. Now if I could only figure out what that was.
Obviously, she didn’t let anything deter her from saying what was on her mind, but honestly, that could be due to a low IQ. Yet, I didn’t think that to be the case with her. Though she might be uneducated, her wit and intelligence sparkled in those eyes of hers like a beacon. She had carefully sculpted dark eyebrows, waist-length chestnut hair, and a bow-shaped mouth.
That mouth. Not only did she say whatever she wanted with it, the texture of the lips themselves drew me in. They looked plump. Welcoming. I wondered what it would feel like to touch them with my fingertips, to feel them against mine. In a rare show of nerves, she flicked her pink tongue out to moisten those lips and I felt an arrow of desire sizzle through me.
A bevy of enticing images spun through my head, and my gaze dropped to the rest of her. She wore a simple white cotton nightshirt, nothing remotely sexy, and yet it was threadbare enough that I could tell she was braless. The instant I recognized this, my body responded. Astounded, I took a step back. I’d no longer believed myself capable of this, of wanting a woman in that way again.
But here was the proof, and I had no idea what to make of it.
Christ.
“So is your family like uber sensitive or something?” she said, dragging me back to my senses.
Marco pushed off from the wall, losing his patience. He’d always been one to act impulsively when riled. His temper tended to stay under wraps right up to the point of detonation, but then he’d cause all hell to break loose.
He came up beside me and intoned in a furious whisper, “A smart woman who valued her life would not keep insulting the leading mafia family of Philadelphia.”
She spat at him, and his Glock sprang into his hand so fast it could’ve been a magic trick. He pointed the silencer directly at her forehead, and she froze. I shoved him to the side, and things would’ve come to blows had it not been for Alessandro.
“Hey, maybe she’s not so much stupid as she’s got a screw loose or something,” he called out, raising his voice over our scuffle. More of a peacemaker, my youngest brother sat back in his foldable metal chair and assessed the situation from his spot at the table.
“Why are you allowing this? All this insolence from her? What is she to you?” Marco demanded, still in my face.
“She’s…” But I didn’t know how to rep
ly to him any more than I knew how to reply to myself. Instead, I told him, “Stop being an ass.”
“Answer my questions, then. What is she to you?” Marco repeated, not willing to give in. And though we’d frequently fought over the years, I realized I didn’t want to. All I could do was give him the truth.
“I don’t know, all right? I don’t know.”
Marco pulled back, staring at me. My gaze flitted over to where Molly stood in her prison, and something my brother saw in my face made him put his gun away. “Wow,” he released a puff of air. “Didn’t expect that.”
“What?”
“You want her. I don’t know whether to clap you on the back or warn you off,” Marco said, shaking his head. His expression somewhere between a grimace and a smirk, he sauntered back upstairs.
Alessandro didn’t look nearly as conflicted. His face wore a smile as he rose from his seat. “Well, on that fascinating note, I guess I’ll leave you to it.”
5
Molly
Terrified out of my mind, I eyed Luca Varasso.
I’d been knocked out, kidnapped, and had two different guns pointed at my head. Now I’d been left alone with the man who’d thwarted those guns, but only so he could have me all to himself. It didn’t take a genius to ferret out his intent. Jutting out my chin, I shored up my confidence as best as I could.
While I’d absorbed that these men meant business and had to be criminals, I’d had no idea that they were members of the mob. I’d always considered myself to be street smart, but now I wilted at my obvious naivete. Why hadn’t I looked up Angelo Varasso before I said anything? I’d been blowing off steam, not attempting to get myself murdered.
And yet, I’d put myself on their radar. Not only was I stupid, I really did wonder if I had a screw loose. Maybe Alessandro had been right on both counts.
“Listen,” he spoke up. “I have something I’d like you to consider, but I need to discuss it with my father first.”
I couldn’t even contemplate what men like this might propose to me, but I knew it had to be bad. The worst thing imaginable. I’d heard of some of the business transactions the mafia were suspected of having. Drugs. Human trafficking. Hired hits. And that was just a few of the crimes I’d heard of.
Maybe they were going to sell me into prostitution. I’d take my own life if they did. Death would be preferable; I knew that for a fact. Working up my fury at the injustice of it all, I shouted at him.
“Just kill me already.”
His dark eyes glittered cryptically. “Is that really what you want?”
Of course, that’s not what I wanted. But I had this feeling that no matter what they had in store, I had few options. I couldn’t run away. I couldn’t defeat them unarmed. Hell, I probably couldn’t defeat them even if I was armed. I’d never used a weapon other than a baseball bat.
With one last speculative glance, Luca strode up the stairs and out of sight. Once he was gone, I slumped down on the cold hard bunk and finally let what had happened wash through my system. All the adrenaline and false bravado drained out of me, letting the full horror of my situation take over.
I’d nearly had a bullet put through my head twice. I could still die at any moment. I was separated from Tara and had no way of contacting her. Chances were, I’d never see her again. I worried about her. I’d always been there for her, and now…
Now, I didn’t know what might happen.
Facing the wall, I laid down in a fetal position and wept.
Several sleepless hours later—I had no idea how many hours since I had no phone and no way to measure the passage of time—Luca reemerged. As surreptitiously as I could, I wiped the tears from my face and sat up straight on my makeshift bed. No matter what he did to me, I planned to maintain my dignity.
He stood there for a long moment in a different pricey suit, his features inscrutable. I decided my best bet was to present a brave front, so I squared my shoulders and stood to my full five-foot five-inch height. No matter what pain he inflicted on me, I wouldn’t scream, even if I had to bite my tongue off to make sure.
Stand tall. Stand strong.
“What do you want?” I said nice and loud, making my words a demand.
“You can cut the act, Molly Greene. I heard you.”
Blinking, I paused. “Heard me what?”
“Crying. All night long.”
Part of me yearned to double over in mortification, but I couldn’t break character. “You’re mistaken.”
“Am I?” he asked, his dark brows raised, crinkling his forehead. “This basement was built into two separate rooms. On the other side of that wall,” he indicated the structure I’d been laying against, “is a wine cellar. I went down there last night and heard every noise you made.”
Stand tall. Stand strong.
“So not only are you hearing things that don’t exist, you’re staying in a wine cellar all night to do it? Hearing voices and wandering into strange locations is awfully weird behavior. Might want to go to a shrink and have that looked into.”
His expression changed into one I hadn’t seen from him before. It was hard to decipher. I thought I may have earned a smidgen of grudging respect, but the expression vanished so fast I couldn’t be sure.
“You are quite the quandary, Molly Greene.”
“Glad I’m keeping you so delightfully entertained.”
His lips twitched, but he didn’t smile. Not even by the tiniest of degrees.
He went to the lock and pulled out his key, his gaze finding mine. This was the closest I’d been to him throughout this whole ordeal, and I noticed that his eyes were dark and intense as he looked me up and down. There were things simmering in those eyes I couldn’t make out, emotions brewing just below the surface.
And then, as he opened the gate, I recognized them.
Hunger and lust.
Shit. Shit, shit, shit.
My heart pounded so hard in my chest I thought it’d crack a few ribs. He must be coming in here to take me by force. I prepared to bite and scratch and claw at him. I wasn’t going to make this easy for the asshole. He might leave me scarred and wounded, but I could guarantee that I’d leave a few scars of my own.
He came towards me, providing a narrow window of escape, and buoyed by my unexpected good luck, I took it. Flashing through the barred gate, I sprinted across the room, only to hear his voice, serene and smooth.
“You can try to run. But the other door is locked and even if it wasn’t, my brothers wouldn’t allow you to get far.”
My eyes darted around, looking desperately for another route to freedom, but there wasn’t one. They’d taken the table and chair out, so I couldn’t even use those. “You could let me go. I swear I won’t tell anyone. I won’t post any more videos, either.”
“No, you won’t,” he said, definitively. “I’d like to speak with you, but it’s difficult with you dashing back and forth all over the place.”
I ended up leaning against the opposite wall, and fortunately, my fingers discovered a loose brick. I yanked at it, thankful to have some way of defending myself. “Stay back. I mean it.”
Leisurely, he walked out of my prison and came towards me. I pointed my brick at him. “I’m a patient man, but even my patience has its limits, Molly Greene.”
Hysteria bubbled up my throat as if to throttle me, and I lowered myself into a stance I hoped would allow me to fend him off. “Get back.”
He closed in, and I threw the brick. He ducked it as if my only weapon hadn’t presented the least bit of an issue for him and came even closer. My panic rose to full-on freak out levels, and I shrieked, “Don’t touch me!”
I’m not certain why, but Luca halted. “What do you think I’m going to do?” His voice was higher-pitched and softer, the timbre one might use with a child.
My voice shook with adrenaline and fear, but I answered. “What most bad guys do to the women they capture.”
He frowned deeply at this, drawing his mouth down an
d to the side. “I can’t speak for other families in the business, but the Varasso men are not rapists.”
“So just murderers then?” I asked, disbelief lacing my tone.
He released a long breath but kept his distance. I wasn’t sure what to make of his behavior.
“I would never claim to be a saint. I don’t consider myself a good man, either. Far from it. We live by a credo of violence and blood, and I won’t deny that. But we do operate by a certain code. We are sworn to protect our family and our family’s reputation at all costs. We don’t kill for no reason, and we would never take a woman against her will. You were targeted because of the negative attention you drew to my family. It’s just that simple.”
“So you still plan to kill me?”
“What I’d like to do is talk to you. I have a unique proposition for you, if you’ll listen to it.”
6
Luca
Molly Greene watched me as carefully as she might watch a car wreck happening right in front of her. She was frightened of me, scared to death. And even though I was a man quite used to engendering such a response in others, I didn’t want that response from her.
From her, I wanted something else. Something more.
Last night, I’d come down to get a vintage bottle of red wine. I often did this after putting Anna to bed. Nearly every night, in fact. It limited my ability to think, to hone in on my memories of Alana. It allowed me to stay numb, which was always more difficult when spending time with my daughter.
I generally stuck to a firm routine. I rose with the baby, changed her diaper and got her dressed, then after feeding her breakfast, I spent an hour or two playing with her. I then brought her to the nursery, and the same nanny who’d raised me and my brothers took over for several hours. Late in the afternoon, I’d pick her up, feed her dinner, play with her for three or so hours, then put her in her crib.