Unexpected Daddies

by Lively, R. S.

  I grin and nod my head. “I'm down,” I say. “Where are they taking him?”

  “I worked it out with Sheriff Dornan. He did us a favor since they couldn't get him to crack,” he says. “The deputies are going to leave him off in a parking lot a little ways up. We're going to wait for them to leave, swoop in, and snatch him up.”

  “And after that?”

  He shrugs. “We're just going to have a chat with him.”

  “Okay,” I say. “Sounds good.”

  “I'm serious, Grant,” he says. “I'm already off the reservation here by doing any of this with you. I can't have you going off on the guy and doing something stupid. That all comes down on my head.”

  “I hear you,” I say. “Won't be a problem. Just a chat.”

  “Just a chat.”

  “Nothing more.”

  “Right. Got it,” I say. “Nothing more.”

  “I'm serious, Grant,” he says. “I know your temper.”

  “You don't have to worry, Derek,” I say. “I know your job is on the line here. I know what you're doing for me. I'm not going to fuck it all up and get you into trouble. I'm cool. I'm good.”

  He looks at me for a moment and nods. I know he's putting his ass on the line for me. I know he's trusting me. And as much as I want to crack this guy's skull to get the information I want, I know I need to hold myself in check. I can't risk Agent Hartford’s job for my own personal quest. I need to be cool, even if I’m trying to save the life of a woman I care about. But I know that Hartford can't go completely rogue. If something were to happen, and things went totally sideways, it could cost him everything – his job, his pension – everything. And no matter how desperate I am to find Celeste, I won't do that to him. I won't put him in that spot.

  The car ahead of us turns into the parking lot of a diner. We hang back and let Leo get out of the car. We watch the squad car drive away, much to Leo's chagrin. He stands there yelling after them, giving them the finger. He's obviously none too pleased about being left in the middle of nowhere in the December cold.

  When the squad car is out of sight, Hartford drives into the lot, and pulls alongside Leo. The man looks at us, his face flushed with anger. Hartford stops the car and gets out leaning over the roof to stare at the man.

  “How's it goin' Leo?” he asks.

  “Who the fuck are you?”

  Hartford flashes his credentials. “Special Agent Hartford,” he says.

  “Yeah, so?”

  I sit in the passenger seat, just a few feet from Leo. It's taking everything in me not to reach out, grab him, and beat the information I want out of him. I grit my teeth and hold myself back, only because I gave Hartford my word.

  “Let's take a ride, Leo,” Hartford says. “We can drop you somewhere.”

  “I ain't goin' anywhere with you,” he says. “I got a ride.”

  “I'm going to have to insist,” Hartford says.

  Leo scoffs. “Insist all you want, I ain't goin' anywhere with you.”

  Hartford sighs dramatically. “I didn't want to have to do this the hard way,” he says. “I was hoping we could just have an amicable little chat.”

  “Yeah, well, life's full of disappointment. Get used to it,” Leo snaps.

  “Come on, Leo,” Hartford says patiently. “Just take a quick ride with us.”

  “And if I say no?”

  If he says no, I'm tempted to grab him by the back of the neck, slam his head into the roof of the car a few times, and throw him into the backseat.

  “Look, Leo,” Hartford says, sounding like Mr. Reasonable. “I have to ask you some questions. I'd prefer to not have to do it in an official capacity. I hate the paperwork, man. I'd appreciate if you could just take a little ride and talk to me.”

  “I ain't tellin' you nothin',” he says.

  “That's fine. Your prerogative,” Hartford replies. “But I need to check off all the boxes on my end, just so I can go back and tell my boss I'm doing my job. I could even tell them how helpful and kind you were to me.”

  Leo looks around, weighing his options. He doesn’t have to get in the car. He doesn’t have to talk to us. Any lawyer would tell him just keep his mouth shut. Good thing he doesn't have a lawyer here with him. Even better, he doesn't seem all that bright. Agent Hartford has him hooked.

  “C'mon, Leo,” Hartford presses. “Ten minutes max.”

  “W – why do you wanna talk to me anyway?”

  Hartford shrugs. “Just have a few questions about an open case I'm working,” he says. “It's got nothing to do with you though. Don't worry, you're not in any trouble. This is about your boss.”

  “My boss?”

  Hartford nods. “Yeah, Mario Francelli,” he says. “I'm just trying to get a little background information. It's routine. No big deal, really.”

  Though he stands there a moment longer, looking uncertain, Leo finally nods his head and climbs into the back seat of the car. Hartford jumps back in behind the wheel and drives off.

  “Where do you need me to drop you?” he asks.

  “Motel called the Snowcap,” he says. “But do me a favor and let me off about a block away from it. I can't be seen with you guys even though I'm not tellin' you nothin'.”

  “Got it,” Hartford says.

  We drive in silence for a few moments, and I'm starting to get anxious. I want Agent Hartford to start peppering him with questions, trying to root out the location they've got Celeste. I really doubt they'd run the risk of keeping her at the Snowcap. Leo might be an idiot, but I doubt all of them are. Mario's a careful man, and while he might keep dumb muscle like Leo around, he'd also keep guys around who are smarter and can manage them.

  Derek is playing Leo like a fiddle. I've never seen him in action, but so far, his interrogation technique is smooth. I may want it to speed up, but I have to trust that Hartford knows what he's doing. He's pacing things, measuring them. I have to believe he knows the right spots to apply pressure, and he's going to do just that.

  “So, Leo,” Hartford starts off, “I need to ask you about a young woman. Does the name Celeste ring a bell?”

  “Never heard of her.”

  I turn around in my seat and stare daggers at the man. “She was in my truck,” I say. “You know, the one you and your buddies ran off the road and almost killed me in?”

  When I see the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, I want to punch him square in the face. I don't though. Hartford is giving me a little bit of leash to help this along, and I don't want to fuck it up.

  “Don't know what you're talkin' about, pal,” he says. “I'm just passin' through town on business.”

  “We both know that's not true,” Hartford says. “There's no use lying to us, Leo. We know Mario sent you and your men here to abduct Celeste.”

  “I don't know what you're talkin' about.”

  “Like I said, Leo, we already know. Don’t lie to me,” he says. “The question is, how much shit do you want coming down on your head?”

  “What's that supposed to mean?” Leo asks.

  Hartford pulls the car to the side of the road, puts it in park, and shuts off the engine. We both turn around in our seats, and Leo is looking back at us with a mixture of suspicion, and apprehension on his face.

  “What that means,” Hartford says, “is that your boss is in some deep shit. And I want to know if you want to go down with him. Do you really want to be stuck in the same puddle of shit with Mario Francelli?”

  Leo swallows hard but does his best to pretend like he’s not affected by it all. He clenches his jaw and narrows his eyes, trying to look hard – but his eyes give him away. I can see the uncertainty and nervousness inside him. Hartford apparently can too, because he lays it on thicker.

  “Right now, it's a local thing, Leo,” he says. “If we can get Celeste back – unharmed – it won’t be too bad for those involved. But if she ends up in Chicago again, that's transporting her over state lines. That makes it a federal crime. And if yo
u get slapped with a federal charge, you're going to do a lot of time, Leo. A lot of time.”

  “Nobody ever told me nothin' like that,” he says.

  “Of course they didn't,” I say, trying to pick up the pressure where Hartford left off. “Because they don't care what happens to you, man. You're cannon fodder to them. You're only there to take the fall, if it all goes to shit. You're there to be Mario's human shield, Leo. You wanna take this particular bullet for him? I mean, a federal charge – that's some serious shit.”

  “On the other hand, it would look really good for you if you voluntarily cooperated with us,” Hartford adds. “This whole conversation is off the record – I can tell my boss you came to me on your own. That you volunteered to do the right thing here.”

  “I don't wanna go down for no federal shit, man,” he says.

  “I know you don't,” Hartford says. “And I don't want to have to take you down for a federal crime. I mean, if I have to do that, you're probably not getting out of prison until you're retirement age, man. Maybe older. That’s what – 30 years? Maybe 40?”

  “Do you really want to give up the rest of your life for Mario fucking Francelli?” I ask. “I mean, what's he done for you worth you giving up all those years of your life?”

  Leo lets out a long, angry breath and sits back in the seat. He rubs his hands over his face and looks out the window. I can see the wheels turning in his head, weighing Francelli against the rest of the years of his life.

  “Man, if I talk to you, he'll fuckin' kill me,” Leo groans.

  “We can make sure he doesn't find you,” Hartford says.

  He laughs ruefully. “There's nowhere you can put me that Mario Francelli can't find me, man.”

  “If he's in prison – and that's where we're going to put him – he's not going to be able to touch you, Leo,” Hartford says.

  He runs a hand through his hair, looking absolutely miserable. “I want immunity,” he says. “If I do this, I want a total walk. I need to get out of the country.”

  “I'll definitely put in a recommendation with the prosecutors,” Derek says.

  “Nah, man, that ain't good enough,” Leo says. “I need guarantees.”

  “I personally can't give those to you, Leo,” Derek says. “I'm not a prosecutor. But they take my recommendations very seriously, I can promise you that.”

  Leo looks torn – and scared. The specter of spending the rest of his life in prison looks to be outweighing his loyalty to Francelli. He sighs again, and nods to himself, as if he's made the decision.

  “There's an old gas station on the edge of town,” he says. “An abandoned place...”

  My pulse starts to race. I can feel the steady trickle of adrenaline surging through my veins as Leo fills us in on all of the details of where they're keeping Celeste, and the particulars of her guard detail. I don't know how we're going to do it, but Agent Hartford and I are going to need to storm the place and get Celeste out of there.

  I'm glad the meds are allowing me to move around without much pain because I'm going to need to be ready. I'm going to need to be on point. And I'm going to need to be ready to fight.

  Celeste is depending on me. I can't – I won't – let her down.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Celeste

  “My Uncle Mario is infatuated with you,” Tasha whispered in my ear, giggling, as she slipped past me.

  It was my first week on the job. I couldn't help but notice that the handsome older man – Tasha's Uncle Mario – sure did stare at me a lot. He smiled every time I brought him his drink. He usually sat in the corner talking in hushed tones with Tasha's father, Bruno.

  “Grazie bella,” he'd say in his thick, Italian accent.

  Just like that, I was swooning for him too. Six-foot-four, with long, lean muscle and silky black hair. Thick black lashes outlined his almost perfectly black eyes.

  “What are you doing tonight, beautiful?” he asked me as he was leaving.

  “Studying,” I told him sheepishly.

  “You're a student?” he asked. “Please tell me you're not a high school student.”

  “Oh no,” I laughed. “I'm in college.”

  “What are you studying?” he asked.

  “Journalism.”

  “Ahh, you want to write for the papers?” he asked. “Aren't those going the way of the dinosaurs?”

  “There are a few of us around who still believe in reporting factual news stories,” I chuckled.

  “Good for you, bella. The world needs those who seek out the truth,” he said. “Maybe when you're not studying, we can grab some dinner.”

  He passed me his card with his personal cell phone on it. My cheeks burned bright red as I smiled back at him. He was a few years older than me – okay, maybe more than a few. But God, he was so dreamy. I felt like Cinderella being wooed by her Prince Charming, and it turned my insides to absolute mush. He was so charming and seemed so worldly and experienced. I couldn't believe he'd even be interested in a little nobody like me.

  “Tasha has nothing but good things to say about you,” Mario added before walking away. “And I appreciate you taking her in when she needed a friend to help her sober up. She's a good girl, but she's always been a little – troubled.”

  How dare you talk about Tasha, I curse as I pull myself from my dream. Mario is the reason she's dead. Yes, I helped her get sober, but she was a good girl, like he said. She didn't deserve to die.

  Shouting from outside the room pulls me from my thoughts and scatters the last of the cobwebs in my head. My eyes pop open, and it takes me a second to remember where I am. I'm still tied to this damn chair in the middle of a dark room. This time, there's only one man standing watch over me. The other hasn't returned just yet, which makes me think they haven’t yet found Grant’s body. It's stupid. I know there’s no chance he’s alive after the crash – but I can't suppress the small flicker of hope inside of me.

  I glance over at the guard standing nearby, but he's not even paying attention to me. The voices outside the door are speaking in rapid-fire Italian. I can't understand a word of it. The man is listening closely though, and I'm hoping his facial expression might give away something. He remains as expressive as a stone, standing there as if nothing is going on around him. Nothing at all. No, there's not a woman tied to a chair, or a fight breaking out outside the room.

  “Think you should check on that?” I ask dryly. “Sounds pretty serious.”

  The guard, of course, doesn't answer me. He doesn't even look at me. I'm not sure how many hours have passed since Mario sent someone after Grant's body, nor do I have a clue what time it is. All I know is that I'm still here. Tied up. Helpless and alone.

  The door swings open, hard enough that it crashes into the wall behind it. Mario strides into the room, his dark eyes narrow and focused on the guard.

  “You were with Leo during this chase, yes?”

  The man hesitates, but then nods. He had every reason to hesitate though, because Mario pulls back his fist and hits him square in the jaw. “You're fucking idiots. Morons. Incompetents. He wasn't dead,” Mario says. “And you let him walk away.”

  Wait, Grant isn't dead? That small flicker of hope kindles into a fire in my breast, and nothing else matters anymore. The only thing I care about is that Grant might not be dead after all.

  “There has to be a mistake,” the guard says. “He was dead. There's no way he could have walked away from a crash like that –”

  “She did,” Mario growls. “With barely a scratch on her.”

  “With all due respect, Mr. Francelli,” the guard says. “You didn't see the guy. He was –”

  The man never finishes his statement, because Mario's fist smashes into his face. Right in the nose this time. Blood splatters the wall nearby, and he grunts. This time, the man's face twists into a look of pain, and I see a hint of anger in his eyes. But he doesn't react.

  “Leo was taken in by the cops, and now he's missing,” the man say
s. “We need to get her out of here.”

  “Leo would never talk.”

  “Yeah? Where the fuck is he then?” Mario asks. “For all we know, the fucking cops have him, and he's spilling his rat-fuck guts to save his own ass.”

  The guard wipes away the blood running from the corner of his mouth and has no answer. He stands there like a stone, remaining totally quiet. My heart is racing, though. I want to hear more about Grant. Is he really alive? Where is he? If he's alive, there's still a chance of getting out of here. A tiny chance, especially if Mario is actively looking for him. But still, a chance.

  With Grant's injuries, I can't imagine he'd be able to do much of anything in terms of saving me. I saw what he looked like – I thought he was dead too.

  But if he's alive, there's hope. Even if I die here, I'll be content knowing that he's alive. That he's out there, able to live his life. I feel a shard of regret buried in my heart. More than anything, I want Grant to live his life with me in it, but at least I can die knowing he's alive.

  That's all that matters to me anymore.

  * * *

  “If you think we're going to give up land we legally own, to you – the fucking mob – you're wrong,” Sam said, his voice loud and clear in my head. “We're not going to let you push us out.”

  The mob, I wondered? What was he talking about?

  I stopped short of their table, a pitcher of water in my hand, racked with confusion. Mario looked past Sam, straight at me and shook his head – telling me to go away. I turned around and walked back toward the bar, feeling confused and somewhat frightened. But as I left, I heard their conversation – at least Sam's portion – all too well. His words continued to echo through my mind on an endless loop.

  “I know who and what you are, Mario, and you don't scare me,” Sam said.

  The restaurant wasn't yet open for the day. It was quiet inside and their voices, though they tried to pitch them low, still carried. Tasha was behind the bar cutting lemons, oblivious to the men in the corner of the lounge area. She knew they were there, but if their raised voices or conversation concerned her, it didn't show on her face. She was laser-focused on the task in front of her as if those lemons held all the answers to the universe. As if she'd been well trained to tune things out and not hear them at all.