FUTURE RISK

by MEGAN MATTHEWS

  Lights bounce off my shirt. The brightness in contrast to the dark I’ve been surrounded by forces me to shield my eyes. For a split second I tense and wish it was Bennett pulling his truck into the small church parking lot, even if it means he’s discovered our plans and will most certainly yell at me. But we haven’t spoken in two days and the lights are too low to belong to a truck. The vehicle inches closer and comes to stop when the Jaguar emblem on the hood is visible.

  Definitely not Bennett.

  The lights turn off and I lower my hands. My stomach clenches in fear. Maybe we should have given more thought to bringing the shotgun Katy mentioned. There’s a possibility I could have stuffed it in the large tote bag I’m using to keep the twenty thousand safe. It’s a cute little canvas tote with a bright pink glitter unicorn on the side.

  Way too happy and big for me to cart around two small stacks of money, but I didn’t have many choices.

  Everything I own is pink.

  I shouldn’t get my hopes up for even a second on the belief Bennett will come to my rescue. I talked myself into this horrible situation, so now it’s up to me to get myself out of it. Not talking to him for the past few days has been rough. I mean sure he’s come into the bakery to grab something every day. A coffee, turkey sandwich, or cookies for Liam. But our exchange is nothing more than a few grunts and a thank you here and there. Once he has his stuff he’s out the door without looking back. It’s like we didn’t have a few whirlwind days together. I’m just the girl who runs the bakery.

  When you take me into your house and introduce me to your child and let me fall in love, I expect you to put up a little bit more of a fight. But not Bennett. Every time he sees me he acts like everything is fine, but everything is not fine. I see his handsome face and I get angry. It’s so unlike me, but each time he walks into the bakery I want to yell at him for being so stupid and letting me get away.

  But I know what would happen. I’d end up on the seven o’clock phone tree update. So rather than become town gossip, I smile and hand over his coffee without accidently spilling it on him. Pearl watches every exchange like a hawk. I’m surprised she hasn’t started carrying around a journal to take notes.

  Bennett, on the other hand, probably doesn’t care at all. Which makes it hurt so much more. How can I miss him so much my heart breaks as each minute passes, but he has no idea? He’s walking around, breathing air like each breath doesn’t burn.

  A car door shuts. It’s too late to back out now. All the deep breathing in the world won’t get me out of this one. With one last breath and a hand on my pepper spray, I brace, ready to meet with a notorious mobster.

  I expect an old man with a cane, a long cigar hanging out of his mouth. Someone who belongs on the set of a Godfather movie.

  But Frankie Zanetti is anything but. He’s tall, almost as tall as Bennett. Dark brown hair falls to the side in a casual look. It’s the kind of hairdo that suggests he fell out of bed looking that way, but we all know there’s lots of gel to help make it look perfect.

  “Ms. Curtis, you are even more stunning in person.”

  “Um… When have you seen me not in person?”

  Frankie laughs the same sound from our phone conversation.

  “That is not important. So why a church, Ms. Curtis?” He turns to take in the old white building.

  “You can call me Anessa.” Oh. My. God. I told a mobster he could call me Anessa.

  “Well then, Anessa, I am here. Let’s go for a walk. I followed your directions of coming to our meeting alone, yet you did not trust me to do the same. Unless your two friends are hiding in the church for some late night praying.”

  I freeze. “How did you know?”

  “I make it my business to know what goes on in many towns along the coast.”

  Something snarky comes to mind but only Katy would have the woman balls to say it, so I keep my mouth zipped.

  There’s a trailhead at the end of the old church cemetery and Frankie walks in that direction. I follow a step or two behind him. His stride is long and I’m forced to walk faster to keep up since he doesn’t slow his step like Bennett does whenever we’re together.

  If I were smart, I’d throw my tote bag at Frankie and run in the other direction. I definitely wouldn’t be following a known mobster into the woods late at night. But I really like this bag. It has glitter on it. And a unicorn.

  We pass the tree line and Frankie lets out a deep breath like he’s relaxing, which only make me nervous. Well more nervous. I was already a ball of nerves before he got out of the car. We walk for a few feet in silence. The paved trail is clear of any debris, so there’s no small branches snapping or leaves crinkling like you normally find when you’re in scary situations. The wind isn’t even blowing.

  “So…” I search for anything to say. There are too many thoughts going on in my mind. If we’re talking, it’s easier to pretend we’re two friends on a stroll rather than the Big Bad Wolf leading me to my demise. All I’m missing is the red cape and basket of goodies.

  “I thought the mob was dead.” Immediately after putting the period at the end of the sentence, my brain catches up with the words.

  Stupid Anessa. I don’t know how guys in the mob feel about being referenced as “a guy in the mob”. Are we both supposed to pretend like we don’t know?

  Thankfully rather than pointing a gun and shooting me, he laughs it off like I said the funniest thing in the whole world.

  “I wouldn’t know since I have no affiliation with the mob.” His head tilts, and in the semi-lit way of the path, he winks. “From what I hear they’ve moved on to being legitimate business owners in areas that are more lucrative.”

  “More lucrative than the mob business?”

  “Oh yes. There are many fields. Accounting, imports and exports, delivery services.”

  “And which field are you in?”

  He smiles. “I like to dabble.”

  “That’s reassuring.”

  Frankie laughs. “I like you, Anessa. I don’t know whether to smack you on your kisser or kiss you on your smacker.”

  “Did you just quote The Simpsons?” I ask when we come to a stop in the middle of the trail. Frankie obviously feels we’ve walked far enough in that Katy and Tabitha are no longer a threat.

  His laughing continues. “One day you’ll learn that we aren’t all the uniforms we wear. A person is deeper than the first impression or rumors you’ve heard from someone else. I hope you may see me as more than a cartoon characterized villain. That’s who you expected, right? Fat Tony? Maybe someone from a Godfather movie?” Scarface?

  The path is too dark and we’re standing too far apart to see if the words are said with a smile or a grimace, but I’m thankful for it anyway because he can’t see the way my cheeks heat at the truth of his words. I may not have made him out to be a cartoon character but I definitely expected a 1920s Italian mobster.

  “You have my money, yes?” he asks looking at the large tote bag swinging from my arm.

  “Right, the money. Yes, I brought both stacks.” In truth I didn’t need the large bag and am forced to stick my hand all the way to the bottom to get them out. But I couldn’t risk being seen around town carrying stacks of bills. Pearl would surely out me and then the whole town would know.

  Frankie stares at the stacks of money and then at me and then at the stacks of money. “There seems to have been some miscommunication. I told Ridge it was double.”

  “Forty thousand? But I don’t have that kind of money. I only have this money.” I push the two stacks closer to him.

  His eyes slip further down my body taking his time. He leers at me in a disgusting fashion, which makes my body crawl. I’m uncomfortable for the first time rather than scared. I push the money into his chest, forcing him to take it.

  “If you’d like I’m sure you could work it off in other ways.” The tone he uses on other ways leaves no room for doubt about what he means.

  I step back.
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br />   “I don’t think she likes the idea of that, Z,” a thick heavy voice says from out of the woods.

  I squint to see who it is.

  “This is not your place, Dominic.”

  The biker gang leader steps out of the tree line onto the concrete path. Behind him six other men follow, their guns all trained on Frankie. He doesn’t flinch or reach for a weapon of his own, but I freeze completely.

  “I think it’s time Anessa gets home,” Dom says, and while I agree with him, his comment makes me bristle. What is up with these men and telling me what to do? It never fucking ends.

  Frankie laughs like he’s done so many times tonight, but this one isn’t light. It’s dangerous and unnerving. “Anessa’s a big girl and can make her own choices.”

  “Fine, then she can choose who she goes home with.”

  What the hell?

  “I actually got a ride here. So I can go home that way.” I use my best unaffected voice to play it off totally cool, pointing back to the church.

  “Yeah, sweetheart, I’m not letting you walk out of here with him. I might not like Bennett, but I wouldn’t do that to another man.” Dom doesn’t take his eyes off Frankie as the two silently stand off against one another.

  “Okay, then I go with him.” I point toward Dom. Given my choices are the head of the mob or the head of a local biker gang, I’m going to go with a biker gang. Don’t ask me why.

  “Really? I thought you had better taste.” Frankie shrugs like he’s not at all irritated with my answer, but from the way the guys covering Dom widen their stances I’m not fooled.

  Frankie takes two steps back and puts a hand up in a friendly wave. He turns but then stops, looking back to me. “Oh and Anessa. You and I are square, but tell Ridge he owes me twenty-five.”

  Twenty-five?

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  “Let’s go, babe,” Dom says when Frankie makes it far enough down the path he’s turned the corner and we can no longer see his back. The man stared down at least six bikers holding guns on him and then turned and walked away like he wasn’t worried. He strolled out of here without a care in the world.

  Ridge is not going to like this.

  Dom stalks off in the woods not looking back to make sure I’m following him. I do anyway. A woods full of bikers and mobsters is not the place I want to be after dark. I’d like to live to celebrate the Fourth of July holiday. Maybe see that reenactment.

  He and a few guys who follow stop next to a small group of dirt bikes. “Something you want to tell me about?” he asks pushing up the kickstand.

  “Not really.” I have a feeling I’m in enough trouble with someone already.

  He shakes his head, pushing the bike a few steps ahead. “You meeting Frankie Zanetti in the woods by yourself in the middle of the night can’t be good.”

  “I wasn’t alone. Tabitha and Katy were in the church.” I try to justify myself, but Dom’s face scrunches up like I’m making it worse. “Let’s not tell anyone.”

  I’ll beg if needed.

  He shakes his head. “Babe, trust me. They already know. Hop on.”

  I haven’t ridden a bike since high school when my cousin Roy used to take me around the woods beside his house on his dirt bike. It takes some finagling but eventually I end up on the back of Dom’s bike.

  He whistles and is met with a chorus of loud rumbling as the bikes around us come to life. The exhaust fumes fill the clean air in the woods.

  “Are you taking me home?” I yell over the noise.

  “No! And you better hold on if you don’t want to get left behind.”

  I immediately wrap my arms around Dom’s middle, but I don’t latch on for dear life until he hammers the gas. He weaves in between the trees at a speed faster than I’d drive a car down a regular road. I squeeze my eyes closed and silently pray for the entire ten minutes the swerving goes on until the bike comes to stop and the engine cuts out.

  “You can let go now,” he says around a chuckle.

  I loosen my arms and stick my feet on the ground.

  “Be careful of the exhaust pipe.”

  There’s heat on my leg and I let out a little scream while jumping the rest of the way off the bike. Once my feet are safely on the ground and far enough away from the heat source, I allow myself to take in my surroundings.

  The house in front of our group is gorgeous. A tall, white classic farmhouse with a huge wraparound porch. The dirt bikes stop in a wide driveway that circles around the house and ends at a tall privacy fence.

  I like to think I’m not a judgmental person, but it’s safe to say I never expected a biker to live here. There are no beer cans littering the ground, only a gorgeous assortment of flowering bushes. Maybe they stole the place from a little old lady who liked to garden.

  “Come on in. Gretta will want to meet you.”

  Gretta? That’s definitely not a biker’s name.

  Maybe she’s the little old lady they’ve kidnapped.

  Dom throws open the front door like he’s about to rob the place and three guys behind us wait for me to enter.

  Really, what’s the worst that can happen? I’ve already come this far. I might as well see all my stupid decisions through until the end. Straightening out my back, I walk into the farmhouse and immediately stop a foot or two inside the door.

  Once again I’m completely taken by surprise. There’s not a single black wall or heavy metal rock concert poster in sight. The front room is large and open and decorated in different shades of white and tan. It’s friendly and inviting. There’s not a piece of leather to be found. It’s clean and smells fresh.

  “You guys are back early.” A skinny blonde walks into the room, her back turned to everyone.

  “Had to end the ride early. We picked up a stray.” Dom sits down and his three companions follow, each of them taking up spots on the light tan sofas. Dom sits in a large overstuffed chair by himself.

  “Is that so?” Gretta turns finally taking me in. “Does she have a name?”

  “Gretta,” Dom grunts, “meet Anessa.”

  Her face lights up in recognition. “The Anessa? I’ve heard so much about you.”

  She’s so sweet I instantly love her and can’t figure out what in the heck she’s doing hanging out with a bunch of bikers. Is she the reason it’s decorated so… normal? Did they kidnap her rather than an old lady?

  “These shitheads all want me to make fucking cookies like you do, but I told them if they like them so much, they should keep buying them from you. I’m not a damn chef,” she says.

  “Oh.” I guess the situation makes a little more sense.

  “But she did buy us tea,” one of the guys sitting in the middle of the couch says. The cuts on his biker vest create the name Ghost in thick black font.

  “Did you ask your guest if she would like some tea?” Gretta asks and all the guys in the room immediately look to the floor. “I didn’t think so.”

  “Oh no, I’m good thank you.”

  “We serve it in mugs, not the teacups like you do. It makes it manly tea,” the guy from the couch says.

  Gretta rolls her eyes. “Yeah, your green tea with honey and lemon is manly. Sure.”

  “Gretta, get me a beer,” Dom says pointing to the kitchen.

  Her eyes widen at him and she shakes her head, muttering something under her breath, but she does turn around and walk away. “You don’t pay me enough to put up with this shit, Dom.”

  There goes my kidnapping theory.

  “You’re paying her now?” the third guy asks.

  “No! I’m still a kidnap victim. I just haven’t decided to leave yet,” Gretta yells from the kitchen.

  My eyes widen. “Kidnap victim?”

  Dom laughs. “She has a big imagination.” He holds his hands up to symbolize how large I’m supposed to think her imagination is.

  I’m not buying it. But I’m also not planning to ask any more questions while I’m in his house. Call me chicken shit or not. I�
��d like to leave here eventually. “Should we call Bennett now?”

  I don’t want to wake up Liam and I really don’t want to deal with Bennett’s anger when he figures out where I am, but he can’t hate me so much he wouldn’t come and rescue me. Right?

  All the men in the room laugh.

  “I’m sure he’ll be around.” Dom says. “Gretta, get Anessa a beer too!” he yells.

  “Can I get a beer?” Second guy in the couch asks.

  Dom scowls at him. “No, you got beer in the compound.”

  Gretta charges back into the room, a determined look on her face. That or she’s not afraid of being killed. She stomps over to Dom. “Here.” She slams the beer into his hands, the lid already popped so some spills over the side.

  I start to refuse. There’s no way alcohol will make my situation better, and if I’m forced to drink it there’s no guarantee I’ll keep it down. Thankfully my decision is cut off by the front door opening.

  A random head pops in the doorway. “He’s here,” the newcomer says, drawing out the here so he sounds like the little girl from poltergeists.

  That’s never good.

  I don’t know how much more trouble I can get into tonight. I’ve already lost my boyfriend and had a midnight meet up with the mobster who took twenty thousand from me but wants twenty-five more. I’ve been adopted by a roaming gang of bikers and taken to their hideout, which I’m pretty sure is a historical home on First Street. There’s not much left that could happen.

  “Let’s go have us some fun, boys.” Dom stands, a huge smile on his face.

  I’m not naïve enough to believe his smile means anything good for me. The pit of worry, which has grown in my stomach since Katy and Tabitha took up their positions in the church, reaches new heights. All this anxiety is probably taking years off my heart.

  “Come on, Anessa,” Dom says as he walks to the front door. “You don’t want to miss this party. It’s all about you.”

  “What?” I ask with a question that goes unanswered as I lose sight of Dom when he walks outside.

  Gretta hands me the beer. “Here, you’re gonna need this.”