Accidental Witness

by Sam Mariano

“Don’t,” I say, stilling his hand as it skates toward my corset. “Please. I don’t want to provoke him. Just… it’s just an outfit. It’ll be over in a few hours.”

  “I’m waiting up,” he states, like I have any power over when we’ll get back.

  “Don’t torture yourself. I’ll wake you up to let you know I’m home safe if you want me to.”

  “I’m not going to be able to sleep.”

  Reaching for his hand, I state, “We’re not letting him do this, remember? I know it’s hard, trust me, it’s not easy for me either, but…”

  “How am I supposed to send you off to him, knowing what’s going to happen?”

  I take a slow breath and let it out, wondering the same thing. But I know the answer. “Because we don’t have any alternative.”

  “How are we supposed to live like this?” he asks, causing my hope to plummet. This is the first Mateo-sized bump we’ve come to since swearing we wouldn’t let him get to us, and he’s already getting to Vince. If we can’t survive one, how will we keep going?

  “It’s the only way. We can’t keep going in circles. We already know where it ends up, and I don’t want to go back to that.”

  Mainly because ‘that’ is Mateo’s bed, and if Mateo is my strongest lifeline? I’m super fucked.

  He looks down, shaking his head. “No, neither do I.”

  “I’ll be fine. He won’t touch me.”

  We both know it’s a lie, but Vince wants it to be true, so he nods like he believes it.

  ---

  “Why don’t you bring that ass over here, sweetheart?”

  As degrading as I feared tonight would be, it’s worse. Just not for the reason I expected.

  Mateo isn’t the problem.

  The other creeps trickling in to play poker are.

  It’s still Mateo’s fault, I suppose. Dress me up like a hooker, I guess you can’t blame the guys for thinking I am one.

  Six men sit around the table, draining glass after glass of liquor, smoking cigars, and occasionally pushing obscene amounts of money around the table.

  Two hours of leering, two hours of their eyes all over my body. I need to shower for a week straight after I leave here tonight.

  This one’s drunk though, I can see it in his face. His cheeks are ruddy, his eyes have the gleam of drunkenness, and his big bald head shines as I reluctantly approach him to give him more alcohol.

  As I go to pour it, his hand creeps up under my skirt and over my ass. I gasp, jumping, alcohol sloshing out of the decanter as I try to right it in motion.

  “Hey,” Mateo barks.

  The laughter in the room dies, smiles falling from faces as they all look slowly in his direction.

  I swallow nervously, looking at him myself.

  His gaze is still on baldy, but then he looks at me. “You’re not gonna make me sit here thirsty, now are you?”

  It’s a sad day when I’m so eager to get away from someone, I welcome approaching Mateo, but I scurry right over to him.

  He watches my hand shake as I dump some of the alcohol into his tumbler. As soon as I finish, he picks up the cigar he’s been fiddling with for a couple of rounds and glances at me.

  Finally, he holds it out to me. I take it but I don’t know why, and my uncertainty must register on my face. Before I have a chance to ask, his hands are on my hips, yanking me into his lap, adjusting me until I’m straddling him.

  It’s harder to breathe, but I’m not scared. Just… confused.

  He hands me the lighter, but my eyes can’t seem to move away from his.

  Then with all the casualty of someone who does so every day, he plants his hands on my nearly-bare ass cheeks and pulls me against him.

  He’s hard, and I’m sick, because my loins stir at the contact.

  He plucks the cigar from my fingers, placing it into his mouth, and I realize he wants me to light it for him. I fiddle with the lighter, hands still unsteady, until I manage it.

  Mateo gives me a slow smile and a little wink. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

  My blood runs hot and cold, confusion and overstimulation wreaking havoc on my peace of mind. Not like I had much coming into tonight, but I get the feeling I’ll be leaving with significantly less.

  He lets me off his lap a few minutes later, and I’m not immediately sure why he did it… until I notice the other guys barely even look my way again. I still bring them drinks or snacks or cigars, but no more leering to make me uncomfortable, and definitely no more groping.

  He marked me as his.

  I’m obviously not, but the knowledge does little to remove the mantle of guilt around my shoulders.

  When I can get away, I text Vince to let him know everything’s going fine. I had to leave my phone in the other room, since my outfit leaves absolutely nowhere to store it. I also want to tell him that now, while it’s still true.

  A little later, there’s a pounding on the door. Having seen too many movies, it scares me, and I think the game’s being busted or something.

  Nobody else is concerned though.

  “Probably Conroy’s lazy ass,” Mateo says to the table, before nodding at me. “Let ‘em in.”

  I wish everyone would’ve arrived before Mateo did his little cigar performance, but I guess someone will clue any newcomers in if they start to act stupid.

  Yanking the door open, I open my mouth to welcome them, but I stop short, mouth hanging open, because I recognize the two men at the door.

  The cops who stopped me on my way to school Monday.

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  My mouth goes dry and my mind races. The party is being busted—and what the hell is going to happen now? I’m going to be hauled into the police station, no clue how to get out of talking, Mateo is going to be arrested—this is a fucking disaster.

  Then Potbelly brings a finger to his lips, indicating I should be quiet.

  It’s too late to warn them anyway. It’s too late to tell Mateo… I don’t even know what I could tell him, because this is it.

  They’ve got him.

  I should feel relieved, but… I don’t.

  Potbelly takes a step forward and I stumble back several steps, but then he moves past the door, in Mateo’s sight, and I’m baffled because he hasn’t even pulled a gun.

  “There you are, you lazy bastard,” Mateo says, congenially.

  One of the other guys groans and jokes, “Aw, the boys in blue. We’re gonna have to take it down a few notches, guys.”

  I don’t know what the look on my face must be right now, but some mash-up of disbelief and what-the-fuck is my guess.

  “Mia,” Mateo says, nodding at me. “Grab them cigars.”

  I turn slowly, trying to make sense of things—and fast. Mateo obviously knows they’re cops, and it does make sense that he would have some on his payroll, but… the potbellied cop obviously knew who I was at the door, when Mateo couldn’t see them, and he told me to be quiet.

  My blood runs cold as I realize they’re double-crossing him. They’re obviously here as friends, cops on his payroll, but when they’re not here, they’re trying to turn people close to him to testify against him.

  I don’t know what to do. I could wait and see how things shake out, but what if Mateo, guard down, says something in front of them they could use?

  He’ll find out they talked to me. He finds out everything. And they’ve seen me here tonight, so they’ll never believe me again if I tell them I don’t have anything to offer them. They’ll come after me, and because I can’t turn on him… what’s going to happen to me?

  My hands are on the cigars, but I can’t move. The whole world is suddenly crashing down around me and it’s hard to breathe. It’s hard to see a way out of this.

  I drop the cigars.

  I turn around and look once more at the table.

  Then, before I can talk myself out of it, I walk over to Mateo. “You’re out of cigars.”

  With a perplexed frown, he says, “No, I’m not.”


  I nod. “Are there more in the back? Can you show me?”

  His expression clears and he leans back, giving me a probing look. Quietly, he asks, “You want me to take you to the back room, alone, to show you where the cigars are?”

  Sighing to myself, I say, “Yes.”

  He nods once, then moves to stand. “You gentlemen’ll have to excuse me for a minute. I have to help the lady locate some more cigars.”

  I wish he’d hurry the hell up. Those stupid cops probably know what I’m about to do, and we’ll all be lucky if they don’t stop me before I can.

  My hope is that they’re outnumbered, with no back-up outside. That’s the only way this works.

  At the same time, I don’t even want to think about what Mateo’s bound to do to them if they’re on their own.

  As he follows me into the back room, he says, “I have to admit, this surprises me.”

  “Trust me, it’s a last resort.”

  But he’s had even more to drink than usual, and he’s relaxed. His hands drop to my hips and he moves closer, not aggressive, just… strangely playful. “You want to play, Mia?”

  “No,” I say, removing his hands, but surprised that he lets me.

  “Oh, come on.” He leans in, the scent of his cologne hitting my nostrils as his lips move to my neck. My sensitive, sensitive neck.

  I grab his hair, tugging his mouth away from my body. “Stop. I need to tell you something.”

  “That you like hair-pulling?” he asks with a sensual smile. “Thank you. I approve.”

  He reaches a hand toward mine, doubtless to give it a tug, but I grab his wrist. “Mateo, those two guys that just came in are cops.”

  His eyebrows rise, but he does not look impressed by my intelligence. “Yes, I know. That’s why I give them money. Don’t get too excited though, they won’t arrest me.”

  He’s still teasing, and while it’s a little refreshing, there’s no time for this. “Yes, they will,” I say, a little desperately. “Those guys are not your friends, Mateo. They stopped me Monday before school. They asked me questions about you. They wanted me to give them information, to… testify against you.”

  All amusement vanishes from his face, and a scary stoicism takes its place. “Monday?”

  Swallowing, I bob my head.

  “You didn’t tell me.”

  Fuck. “No. I… I didn’t tell them anything, I told them to leave me alone. I probably should’ve told you, but… it was just… there was a lot going on.”

  The way he studies me makes me squirm. There’s usually some trace of amusement when he looks at me, whether because he thinks I’m being a naïve idiot, or because he’s enjoying the game only he knows he’s playing with my life. But right now, he’s dead serious, and it sends fear like I’ve never known traveling down my spine. If he would’ve looked at me like this the first time he pulled a gun on me, I probably would’ve dropped dead from a heart attack and saved him the trouble.

  “I should’ve told you,” I say, quietly. “But… I don’t think we can dwell on that right now. What do we do?”

  His hand slowly moves to my neck, his thumb brushing my jaw, and then he leans in and kisses me. My hands go to his chest, pushing against him. “Mateo,” I say, against his mouth. “Stop it. This is so not the time.”

  But he’s not pushing, and…he’s smiling.

  Meanwhile I’m frowning, confused, wondering if he’s lost it.

  “You’re something else, Mia,” he tells me, touching my face again, but kindly, like he finds me adorable.

  I can only stare, wide-eyed.

  “They are my friends,” he states. “I sent them to talk to you Monday.”

  “What?” I ask, faintly.

  Shrugging, he says, “I had to see what you’d do. I had to see if you’d turn on me or remain loyal.” Cupping my face in his hand, he says, “You passed.”

  Shock courses through me as his words sink in. Sheer horror follows, realizing he’d been testing me, and if I would’ve talked, if I would’ve told the men who swore they could protect me about the information he let Adrian share in front of me….

  How long had he been setting me up for this?

  My mouth is still gaping open when his mouth finds my neck again, his hand moving between my legs. Arousal stirs at the touch of his fingertips and I push him away again, shaking my head.

  “You… you…”

  “Mm hmm,” he verifies, catching my wrist and going back to my neck.

  “But… but… they tried to give me the number to the police station. They said they could keep me safe if I…”

  His lips leave my neck and he moves closer to my ear, whispering in a rough, silky tone, “Sweetheart, if you ever betray me, God Himself won’t be able to keep you safe.”

  Relief should be pouring through me, but it’s only a trickle. I’m stuck in horror, because I can remember sitting in that car, wanting to talk.

  “But you didn’t, so you won’t,” he continues. “I built you up, broke you down, took everything from you… and you didn’t turn on me.”

  A sickening thought gets lodged in my gut. I’ve seen how Mateo works now, I’ve been manipulated according to his designs, and now I’m wondering…

  “When did you…?” I shake my head, pulling back from the kisses he’s leaving along my neck. “How long have you…?”

  I don’t know how to ask, but he doesn’t make me. Mateo pulls back so he can look at me, and while he doesn’t exactly move away, he does stop advancing on me.

  “Mia, anybody with a gun to their head is going to tell you they won’t talk. It’s survival, plain and simple. I’m the predator, you’re the prey. I have my teeth to your throat, you’ll promise me anything I want to try to make it out alive. You may even think you mean it. But when it comes down to it, when it really comes down to it, you can’t know unless it happens. Vince wanted to keep you alive. He was a pain in the ass about it from the get-go, but I wasn’t about to take that chance. You’re young, fragile; I never thought you’d hold up under the pressure. I had to trap you. I had to take everything away from you. I had to ruin your life, betray you—I had to make you despise me, make you want to see me behind bars more than you wanted anything.”

  “You did all of this just to see if you could make me talk? You… raped me as part of a plan? As a means to a fucking end? To make me hate you—which I had every right to!—to…to…?”

  “Yes,” he says, not allowing me to finish the in-progress implosion of my brain. “And despite having every motivation to, you didn’t talk. You passed. Congratulations.”

  “Do I get a fucking ribbon?” I ask, dumbfounded.

  He smiles. “Better. You get your freedom.”

  That knocks the fight right out of me. I don’t think I heard him right—or I misunderstood him somehow. “What?”

  “I’m never the most trusting guy in the room, but… you’ve shown me I can trust you not to say anything against my family. You don’t have to be afraid of Vince leaving you anymore. If he does, you’re free to move on with your life, removed from the Morelli family. Or, if you’re hooked, you can give me a call,” he says, winking.

  “Vince… he was in on this? Sunday night…?”

  “No,” Mateo says, his smile disappearing. “No, that...” He pauses. “I did not anticipate that he would… That was a surprise. I mean, it certainly helped, but no, that was all him.”

  “So, you’ve only been toying with me for this? It was never real, it was… you were just… manipulating the circumstances until you did enough damage to test me?”

  He takes a few seconds before he answers. “Well, yes and no. Obviously, it really happened, but my main motivation was this. I didn’t think you’d enjoy rape, but I thought you’d probably enjoy murder far less. Made a judgment call.”

  I don’t know what to feel anymore. There’s logic to what he says, but I don’t know how to process the implications. I don’t know how to file away everything that�
��s happened to me, or my observations about him as a person. He’s tormented me and Vince, all in the name of testing some theory—an admittedly solid theory, but… wow.

  I don’t even notice he’s caught my hand until he presses it against his cock. He’s hard beneath the soft fabric of his pants, and though I’m foggy with confusion, it registers.

  “I can think of a way for you to thank me,” he says playfully, his lips brushing my earlobe, sending shivers of pleasure all along my nerve endings.

  “Mateo…”

  “Don’t worry, I can take away your choice,” he says, tugging me close. “I prefer not to. I confess, while I didn’t hate myself for a single time I fucked you, Mia, I would like to experience you fucking me because you want to, actually knowing it’s my cock inside you.”

  I release a breath, knowing I need to get the hell away from him. That goddamn dirty mouth does things to me it shouldn’t, and I don’t want him, I want Vince.

  “You said it was all a game. Game’s over,” I remind him.

  Rubbing my hand against his cock, he tells me, “There are always other games.”

  “With you, yeah, I bet there are,” I say, with a shaky, unconvincing laugh.

  I haven’t pulled my hand away, though, and I probably could have. He’s still holding my hand, but if I tried to break his hold, I don’t think he’d stop me.

  So why am I still stroking him?

  Why can I feel myself getting excited?

  “I need to go,” I say quietly.

  “I’ll take you home after the game’s over,” he says, moving between my legs.

  “Mateo,” I say, my heart pounding with a mix of panic and something else. It’s the something else that’s the problem. “You have to stop.”

  “Why delay the inevitable?” he asks, his hand sliding up the inside of my thigh. “Vince is a good kid, but he’s a kid. You need a man.”

  “No,” I say, yanking my hand from his cock to grab the one moving between my legs. “What I need is to get away from you.”

  “To go back and live at my house, where you’ll see me day in and day out. I will fuck you, Mia, it’s just a matter of when.”

  “Jesus Christ,” I mutter, and even though I’m me, and I have control over this situation, I can’t help but believe him.