“Let me in there,” I gasp, looking at the two exits on opposite sides of his office. Peering back in at Mini, I spy the closed door of her prison cell. It’s on the far wall so there isn’t direct access from this office. “Please, let me calm her. Please,” I beg. My fists bang on the glass, but Mini doesn’t look my way.
Enzo gestures to the couch and takes his seat. I can’t take my eyes off her. Tears and dribble run off the end of her chin in long threads. She’s been crying for a long time to look that upset. Out of every painful thing I have experienced in my life, nothing has ever come close to this. Leaving Rocks was nothing in comparison.
“I need to hold her.”
“Sit.”
I obey. I don’t realize I’m crying until tears drip onto my hands. I’m perched on the edge of the couch trying to stay as close to Mini as I can.
“You will see her after your first shift. Be on time, do the job, and then you will be let in to that room for thirty minutes. Understood?”
“But—” The twitch in his left eye tells me to take the deal. “Understood.” My heart shatters when I give up the fight to see her so easily. I can’t risk him hurting her, but I can’t help but feel consumed with guilt for complying with his demand.
The thugs from the car return, and I’m introduced to Johnson, with the sandy blond hair, and Rambo’s name turns out to be Brick. They’ll be my escorts from now on. Brick holds up the blindfold and without hesitating I stand. I take one last glance at Mini through the window, still screaming her lungs out. Enzo stands and before I can step away, he places a kiss on my forehead. He’s caught me off-guard, and it takes every ounce of my self-control not to wipe the spot his lips just touched. I will do whatever it takes to prevent anything else happening to Mini including offending this hideous human being.
“You won’t hurt her. If you really are my father, then you would never lay a finger on a little kid.”
“I am your father, and I’d never lay a finger on my child, but …” He looks through the window and frowns. “Earn my trust, and you’ll free the little one.” He leaves with a knowing look at my bodyguards.
Brick speaks. “Tell your parents about this, and you will never see her again.”
I nod.
“Not only will you never see her alive, but the police will never find her body either,” adds Johnson. “We’ll be waiting at school tomorrow. For every minute we wait, it’s a minute less you spend with her.”
“I’ll be there.” My heart is thumping so hard against my ribs it hurts. How the hell am I going to face Chad and Kelly? Images of the little white coffin flit behind my eyelids.
* * * * *
My car has been moved to the park around the corner from home. The entire ride back, I sit blindfolded listing out loud all of Mini’s likes, dislikes, and her daily routine in the hope that one of these gorillas will pass the information on to whoever is looking after her. When the car stops, Johnson hands me my backpack before threatening Mini’s life again if I say a single word. He indicates that they will know, and I wonder briefly which cop is in their employ, but I have bigger issues to face.
My parents.
Opening the door, I hear the news and retreat instantly to my room. I’m a coward. Moments later, Mom is standing with her hands on hips in my doorway.
“Why didn’t you come and ask about Mini?” she demands. Anger is an improvement on desolation. It’s put color in her cheeks.
“Because when I walked in the door, I knew she wasn’t here. And to be honest, I don’t want to hear how the police have no clue.”
The truth is I didn’t want them to look at the person responsible for their daughter’s disappearance. And I’m not sure how to hide the sadness, fear, and guilt from my eyes. I bite the inside of my lip. The words are on the tip on my tongue. I can almost feel them wanting to fly out of my mouth, confessing all my sins. But keeping my mouth shut will save my sister. Under no circumstances can I tell them. Enzo and his men made that very clear.
The pain I see flash in my mother’s eyes reverberates inside. My selfish, fudged up desire to discover the truth about my birth parents has brought a world of pain onto everyone I care about. I want to scream and destroy anything and everything in my vicinity, but I fold my hands on my lap and force my features into a neutral look.
“They haven’t found her, but the police aren’t giving up hope yet,” she says. “I’m surprised you went shopping at a time like this.” The hurt is evident in her voice, and she stands waiting for an answer.
I swallow and bring the image of Mini’s red, screaming face back into my mind. Her anguish will get me through this. I’ve told enough lies now that I should be able to do it when my sister’s life depends on it.
“Actually, I didn’t go shopping. I … I can’t deal being in this house without her,” I say, and it’s the truth. I close my eyes for a moment. “Her not being here is killing me. I needed to do something, and the police won’t let me help, so I joined the Library Outreach program.”
When I dare to look at Mom, I let out my breath. Her face is scrunched up, and she’s crying silently. Or maybe like me, she’s just having trouble breathing properly. I walk over and put my arms around her. She leans against my body, and the frailty I feel under my fingers scares me.
“I know what you mean. It’s killing me too,” she sobs. “I’m useless. I let those men take my baby, and now I have to sit here doing nothing.”
Rubbing her back, she slowly settles, and by the time she lifts her head, she’s in control. “Tell me about the program. It will distract me.”
We sit on my bed as I lie through my teeth. I do not deserve the love these people have given me. The program is three times a week, and I’ll be helping little kids from poorer areas of the city learn to read. What I know about lying is that it’s always easier when it’s close to the truth, and my high school does have a reading program—I’m just not a part of it.
Mom says she’s proud of me and that brings tears to my eyes. She would never say that if she knew the truth. A cold stillness seeps into my bones. The urge to call Rocks pulses through me, but I will not do anything to risk the life of my sister more than I already have.
“Is it okay if I go again tomorrow after school?” I ask not meeting her eye. “It will be Tuesday, and Thursday afternoons and Saturday mornings from now … indefinitely.”
“Of course, sweetheart, and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be taking my frustration out on you. It’s not your fault.”
Yes, it is.
That night I cry myself to sleep as the image of Mini haunts me every time I close my eyes. When I can’t stand lying in bed a second longer, I’m up and sneaking into her room. I need to take some supplies to her without mom knowing. I grab several changes of clothes, some diapers, her favorite toy, and the soft pink security blanket.
Then I put it all back. Mom will notice if her things go missing. In the end, I stuff the two new toys I bought her at the mall in my backpack. In the kitchen, I raid the pantry of her favorite snacks. Those will not be missed, and at least I’ll know she’s been given something half decent.
Dad is perched in his chair, and the sight of him worries me. I have a feeling he hasn’t showered or slept since she was taken. The urge to tell him where she is sears the back of my throat. I want to reassure him that she’s alive and not sitting stuck in the back of mom’s abandoned car dehydrated.
* * * * *
Brick and Johnson are waiting as expected in another black car I’ve never seen before with the same blackout tinting on the windows. Instead of getting in with them, they instruct me to drive a few blocks away from school and park. Part of me had been hoping the principal would have noticed these guys, but they’re one step ahead of me. I guess there’s a reason Enzo’s business has taken over the entire East coast.
The drive to Enzo’s “coffee house” is identical to yesterday. I can’t see and have no clue as to where they’ve taken me, and once I’m in Enzo’s
office, the blindfold is removed. He’s sitting at his desk writing and ignores me. The blinds into Mini’s prison are closed, and I command my feet to stand still and not run over to open them.
“Hello,” I say after several minutes.
He continues writing. “Not the greeting I was hoping to hear. ‘Hello, Papa.’ Don’t you think?” His hard eyes leave the document to study my face.
The urge to rush to his desk and hurl everything on it across the room pulses through my veins. My temper seems to have a hair-trigger since he entered my life. He is not my father, and if I utter those words, I’m betraying Chad and all the love he’s given me. I glance at the glass window again and know what I must do.
“Hello, Papa.” I swallow. Enzo raises one eyebrow in question. I might have said the words he wanted, but there wasn’t a scrap of emotion behind them.
Silence follows and I don’t know where to look. “Contessa, you’re a problem.” He steeples his fingers, half covering his face. “As my daughter, I want to welcome you, have you embrace the family business, but I know you’re only here because of the child. That saddens me.”
He hasn’t asked a question so I remain silent. My gut is telling me to tread very lightly so I wait. He sighs, and I wish I knew what the emotions behind his eyes meant.
“I’m hoping it’s simply a shock to you that I’m your father. I, myself, was stunned by your discovery, but it was a pleasant surprise. In time, you will see this is as your family, so I’ll wait.” He gets up and walks around in front of his desk. “Do you want the tour?”
Fudge no, I want to yell. I don’t want to know anything about you or your business, but Mini is depending on me. If he wants a daughter, then that’s what he’ll get—a pretend daughter. This time I say it with feeling.
“Yes, please … Papa.” His face shows the tiniest flicker of emotion before he locks it down. I can do this. I can lie my way into his trust. “I’m sorry for disobeying you Monday. I, well, my parents aren’t strict. Not like I see you are, and I thought I could treat you the way I treat them. I was wrong. Can I see where I’m going to work?”
He smiles his half smile that doesn’t show his teeth. It’s the same smile I stared at day after day in the Polaroid I stole from Josie. Bingo! He was happy then, so I’m finally on the right track. If I can get Enzo to smile that smile, it’s my ticket to Mini.
Enzo stands and ushers me to the opposite doorway. The tour begins with a walk through the shipping warehouse. I expected to see bags of white powder, but all I find is crate after crate of coffee beans. The coffee distribution is the front for his real moneymaker, and he explains the aroma ensures any whiff of cocaine not dealt with by the air-conditioning will be hidden from the outside world.
As we wind our way deeper into the rat’s nest, more and more oversized, armed men are present. Most are dressed in suits, but a couple could be mistaken for construction workers. I notice how they all lower their eyes when Enzo passes by. He’s definitely the biggest fish in this pond, and everybody knows it.
Outside a door with a coded entry pad, Enzo asks if I truly am prepared to join the family business.
I swallow and nod my head. His eyes narrow. I need to explain. “This is all a massive shock” —I indicate around me— “plus meeting you and finding out … um, like who I really am,” I say. I swallow down the bile caused by my lies. “If I’m going to learn the business, then I guess I need to know.”
He unlocks the door, and I try not to gasp. I’ve been teleported inside one of those trafficking movies—except this is real—not some Hollywood take on the drug trade. A dozen young men and women are in nothing but their underwear. There’s a strange haze in the air, and it smells harsh, but unlike any chemical I’ve ever smelt before, almost a cross between gasoline and the marker pens we use in art. My hand covers my nose, but I force it back by my side when I notice Enzo watching me. The workers are wearing facemasks as they weigh and bag up the white powder. This cannot be real.
Enzo closes the door again. “The product.”
He leads me further along, and I’m trying to keep track of where I am in relation to his office and Mini. We pass several doors on the left and stop outside a plain white door on the right. No key pad on this one, and as it turns out, it isn’t even locked. A little way down the hallway, there are two men sitting on stools. Each has an automatic assault rifle resting between their legs. My heart starts to flutter, and the muscles in my neck and shoulders feel like they’ve turned to stone. I remind myself that Enzo will not hurt me unless I give him a reason to. Right now, he needs me.
“Boss,” one of them acknowledges.
“This is Contessa. The daughter I was telling you about.” He turns to address me. “When I’m not in my office, they keep an eye on things,” he explains.
Enzo opens the door, and the instant I see what it hides, I can’t believe he doesn’t have a keypad and twenty-five dead bolts on the door. Entering the room, the smell is unmistakable—money—and lots of it.
Black duffle bags are stacked four or five high along the length of one wall. A long table occupies the center of the room holding three sets of books, a laptop, some small device, and a counting machine. A pile of papers is wedged under one of the books, and a box of rubber bands has spewed its contents over the end of the desk. Large clear, plastic bags, paper clips, brown envelopes, a box of latex gloves, and empty duffle bags sit at the opposite end.
One puff of my inhaler opens my lungs enough as I scan the room. To my right, there’s a window of mirrored glass. My guess is his office is on the other side. Even though I’ll be alone in this room, I’ll be under his surveillance. The lack of obvious security on the door settles a cold, stark reality deep in my bones.
You don’t mess with Enzo Ascari and live to talk about it.
“Sit.” Enzo grabs a journal and starts my first lesson in money laundering. “It’s a good thing you have perfect grades in Accounting and Economics.”
My job is to track all his incoming funds for this part of his operation and to ensure his buyers are delivering their agreed sums. It astounds me that it’s only a portion of his illegal income. Opening a duffle bag, I gasp when I see it’s jammed full of US dollars. I can’t even fathom how much money surrounds me, or the fact that Enzo is leaving me in here with it alone. I guess in his sick, twisted mind, he has something of equal value of mine. I’d be marking her for death if I stole any of this. Panic seeps through my system at the responsibility he’s just handed to me.
“I have five dollars,” I say, standing up and turning out my pockets. “See.” The rumpled bill I didn’t spend at lunch sits on the table. Enzo chuckles and squeezes my shoulder. I try not to pull away.
“You will have more than that in your pockets once you prove I’m right to trust you.”
“Why are you doing this if you think I took that other money?” I hate to mention it, but the fact that Enzo knew I had stolen from the Vipers has bugged me. But what’s bugged me more is why he needs me to count his money. It doesn’t make sense. “Why me? Why go to all this trouble?”
Enzo is silent for several minutes. His scrutiny makes me want to squirm, but I will my body to stay still. I can’t show him the level of fear he instills in me whenever we’re together. For the life of me, I can’t work out why he’d go to so much trouble to get me here a few hours a week. He’s a powerful man with an army of thugs ready to step up to do his bidding—surely.
“Because my biggest weakness is what’s written in those journals.” He points to the three books sitting on the table. “Contacts, figures, product, distribution … the whole Ascari enterprise is hidden within those pages. The reason I’m successful is because I never show any one person all my cards. Sophia is the exception. If one of our competitors got to me, she would know what to do to take my place. Never trust anyone like you do blood. Even your mother, after all these years, never turned me in, and we were only family by marriage. I needed someone I can trust, and there i
s nothing stronger than blood. In time, you won’t only be working the books, Contessa, you will join Sophia, and when the time is right inherit all this.”
“But …” I can’t tell him I don’t frigging want any of it. I want my sister and to be left the hell alone.
“I know nothing about this … business.”
“Irrelevant—”
“But you know nothing about me. You’re risking an awful lot by me being here.”
Enzo gives me the tiny hint of the smile that occasionally crosses his face. “When you escaped from the Vipers and then had the audacity to steal from them—knowing full well what they would do to you—it impressed me. It showed me you really did have Ascari blood in your veins, and with a little help from your true family, you will come into your own and be one powerful young woman—like your sister.”
I flinch at the word sister. If two sisters are going to take after each other, it’s going to be Mini and me. No matter what I’m required to do, I’ll do it to give the Phillips’ sisters that chance.
Rocks would turn rabid if he knew rescuing me, when I was kidnapped, made Enzo think I’m an Ascari. And I’m going to thump those clueless bats when I see them next for taking the money from the van. I knew I would pay for that stupidity; I just didn’t expect it to be like this.
“The Vipers was dumb—”
“Don’t say luck.” His eyes are hard. I sense his anger has a hair-trigger too. Maybe that’s a family trait I didn’t know about. “I heard the details from those two myself. You fought back and succeeded. That was all I needed to know. You saw an opportunity and took it. Impressive under the circumstances.”
Crap. He thinks those bats entering the building were a distraction and I took the opportunity to escape!
“And for the record, you don’t need to worry about those amateurs. It was a pleasant surprise the machinery at the chicken farm still worked. The feds won’t find pieces of them big enough to identify.”
Sanguine Moon Page 23