by Rowena
Blond says nothing, but his right hand drifts toward his coat.
I watch them both.
“Because I fucking told you to,” Dark Hair says.
“I see,” I say.
“We need the girl, then we can all go on our way,” Blond says at last.
“I’m afraid that’s going to be a sticking point,” I reply.
“What the fuck does that even mean?” Dark Hair asks.
“It means he doesn’t want to,” Blond answers for me.
“Exactly,” I reply.
“Well, that’s unfortunate,” Dark Hair says, reaching behind him and producing a nine millimeter.
He points the gun at me sideways, making it clear he’s used to getting by on his bravado and not on actually using his weapon.
I flick my eyes at him but keep my full attention on the blond.
We stare at each other, two predators recognizing the other.
“Give us the fucking girl or I’m going to shove this gun up your ass and pull the trigger,” Dark Hair barks.
Blond reaches into his jacket slowly and pulls his own gun. When he aims it, his aim is true.
As I already knew, he’s a killer. He’s done this before.
I shake my head side to side and then smile.
“I’ve already said that’s not going to happen. You see, I’m a man of my word,” I say.
Behind me, I hear her heavy breathing.
The girl is so close, with every inhale she takes, her breasts brush against me.
I don’t know who she is or what I’m getting involved in, but I’m not going to stand by and let these two have their way with her.
“So am I,” Blond says. “Give her over or I’ll kill you.”
“You,” I say pointing toward him. “You, I believe. Who do you work for?”
“I’m not a man who can be bought that easily,” he says.
“Well, I have uses for men who have your apparent talents,” I say with a smile. “In the future.”
“What the fuck is this?” Dark Hair asks. “Give us the fucking girl before I cap your ass for talking too damn much.”
I sigh dramatically.
“It would behoove you to increase your awareness of your surroundings,” I say.
The click of metal on metal rings out clearly just as Francesca and Alex press their guns into the thugs’ backs.
They both pale and slowly raise their hands into the air, holding their guns loosely by the trigger guards.
“Shit,” Dark Hair says.
“Yes, shit,” I say. “An appropriate response.”
Alex and Fran take the goons’ guns then push them forward.
They both stumble two steps ahead before they’re pushed onto their knees.
“Hands behind your heads,” Alex orders.
“Gentlemen,” I say, smiling. “There are lessons to be learned in life. A wise man is open to them every day.”
“Fuck you,” Dark Hair mutters, and Francesca knocks him across the back of his head with the butt of his own gun.
“Son-of-a-bitch!” he cries out, blood trickling from the wound.
“The first lesson is how to speak in polite company,” I say. “Those words are inappropriate in front of a lady.”
“Asshole,” Dark Hair barks and is socked again in response.
“The second lesson is to know when you are defeated. There’s no dishonor in retreating. There’s no honor in death. The dead cannot exact revenge. The dead do not win in the end.”
Blond watches closely as I talk, remaining silent.
Dark Hair is apparently too woozy to run his mouth any longer.
“The third lesson in this day for both of you is to always know your enemy. Fools underestimate and thereby lose. That concludes today’s lesson. I wish you both a good day,” I say, opening the rear door to my Cadillac.
I grab the girl by her shoulder and help her into the backseat, taking care to make sure she doesn’t hit her head.
I climb in next to her and shut the door.
Alex walks to the driver’s side and climbs in, keeping his gun trained over his shoulder.
Once he’s in and his door is shut, Francesca climbs in the front passenger side.
I watch the two men in the side mirror as we pull away.
They remain on their knees until we leave the parking lot.
“Well, that was exciting,” Alex says.
“What the hell was that, Donnie?” Francesca asks.
“I’m not sure,” I reply and turn toward our new guest.
“Can I get this bag off my head?” she asks, shifting around in the seat.
“I don’t think so—not yet,” I say.
“Then when?” she asks.
“When we’re safe and I’ve figured out what to do with you.”
“Just let me go. I don’t even know who you are. I won’t be any trouble—hell, you saved my life. I just want to get away.”
“Sure,” I say. “And once I know we’re in the clear, I’ll make sure that happens. How about you tell me who you are?”
She goes silent.
“This is a bad idea, Donnie,” Francesca says.
“Thank you, I’m sure it is,” I reply. “Be that as it may, here we are.”
She shakes her head.
Alex stares down the road, his hands gripping the wheel tightly.
“Well, Alex?” I ask.
“Well, what?” he replies.
“You have no brilliant insight into the current situation?”
“Stupid,” he says.
“Observant and blunt. Thank you, Alex,” I reply staring out the window.
“Let’s get under cover; we’ll talk more then.”
This is probably the stupidest thing I’ve done.
It was rash and impulsive, but there was something about her—the sound of her voice maybe—I couldn’t turn my back.
I’m involved now and there’s no changing that.
However the cards fall, the decision is made, and now I have to play the hand I’ve dealt myself.
All the pieces are in play. Everything is in motion.
This girl is a minor thing; she won’t affect the final outcome, I’m sure of it.
4
Isabella
The car smells new.
The scent of it mingles with the must and mold of the bag that’s still on my head.
The cold steel of the handcuffs still pinches my wrists.
I’ve escaped one situation, only to fall into another. Whatever gods above I pissed off, they’re not letting me off the hook easily. My luck is shit.
The guy next to me has a nice voice, I’ll give him that.
There’s a cultured tone to him that’s different from the other men I’ve known all my life; thugs my father employs aren’t exactly known for their culture or their ability to think.
I’ve had a bodyguard with me since I was old enough to walk, two since I was old enough to try going out on my own.
My whole life, all I’ve known are men who are in the ‘life.’
I’ve dreamed about escaping, running somewhere far away and experiencing things like a normal woman would.
That’s not in the cards for me, though—never has been, until now. Maybe. If I can get away from this guy who has now effectively kidnapped me from my kidnappers.
The car slows and stops.
The driver honks then we wait in silence until at last it goes into motion again and we move forward.
I hear sounds that remind me of a garage door, then the car comes to a stop once more.
Two car doors open and I hear the two in the front seat climb out then the door next to me opens.
“Go ahead, climb out,” the voice next to me says. “Alex, make sure she doesn’t hit her head, please.”
“Sure, Donnie. Come on, girl,” Alex answers.
Swinging my legs around and out, I climb out of the car.
It’s difficult and awkward with my hands still cuffed and a bag over my h
ead.
Alex helps to keep me from banging my head, which is nice.
He moves me forward and I hear the car door shut.
“Well?” I say.
“Well, what?” Alex asks.
“The bag? The cuffs?”
No one says a thing.
I wait impatiently, tapping my foot on the ground.
“Seriously? What the hell can I possibly do? Who the hell are you people?”
“Remove the bag, Alex,” Donnie says.
Alex pulls the bag over my head and I take my first deep breath of clean air I’ve had in forever. It fills my lungs, and I close my eyes to enjoy how sweet it is.
Nothing in my life has ever tasted so good before.
Leaning my head back, I exhale then take another deep, cleansing breath.
Beautiful, tasty, amazing clean air.
I let it out slowly, and at last, I open my eyes to take in my surroundings.
The one before me must be Alex, the driver.
“Thanks. Cuffs?” I ask him, turning sideways so he can see them.
He doesn’t answer; instead, he looks over my shoulder across the car.
“Let’s not move too fast,” Donnie says from somewhere behind me.
“Too fast? What? Please! My wrists are killing me! I can’t feel my hands,” I say, still staring at Alex pleadingly.
Alex shrugs and turns away.
Spinning on my heel, I stare across the car at Donnie and the woman next to him.
Donnie is tall and handsome—ruggedly so, with a sharp nose. The shadow of his beard accents the strength of an amazing jaw. His skin is tanned with a hint of an olive tone. His eyes are big, bright, and the richest blue I’ve ever seen. They’re shockingly blue and make me feel like he’s looking right into my soul. His dark hair is wavy but perfectly fixed, not a single strand out of place. He’s wearing a light gray suit with an ocean-colored shirt underneath and a print tie with diamond designs.
He smiles, and even that is dazzling.
The woman next to him is almost as tall as he is with dark, shoulder-length hair that looks like it belongs in a Pantene commercial it has so much body and bounce. Her features are sharp yet pretty but her eyes are cold. Too cold for comfort.
She reminds me of Paulie—cold, calculating, and willing to kill her own mother if she deemed it necessary, or if she was ordered to. Paulie would, if my father ordered it.
“Let’s get to know each other first,” Donnie says.
Shaking my head, I give in. It’s not like I have any leverage or real choice in the matter. This is his show and his game; I’m just a pawn in the proceedings for the moment.
“Fine,” I say, turning my attention to our location.
I know we’re still in New York, though I have no idea which of the five boroughs we’re in. I haven’t been in either car long enough for it to be outside of New York, at least not yet.
Around me is a massive, rundown warehouse, or so it looks. A catwalk runs around the open area up by where the grime-encrusted windows are. It’s big enough to park dozens of cars or maybe two or three airplanes plus storage. The windows that are on ground level are all boarded over, giving me no further clues as to my location.
“Come with me, please,” Donnie says, motioning.
I think about ignoring him, if for no other reason than I hate being ordered around, in general.
I think better of it because… well, there’s just no reason to be obstinate right now.
If I play along and don’t raise any suspicions, I not only enhance my survival, but they’ll relax eventually, and then I can escape.
Escape.
To where? Where can I go?
My father was sending me away for a ‘lesson.’ Whether that lesson was banishment or being killed remains to be seen, but either way, I can’t go back.
Going home would be worse than suicide.
Living in that house is unbearable. I can’t do it any longer.
He was going to kill my friend over a few dollars.
I’m done with him and my family. No matter what happens next, I’m not going back there.
Seeing that my options are limited, I walk around the car and fall in beside Donnie.
Alex and the girl follow along behind and Donnie leads the way to a door that barely stands out from the dirt and graffiti of the wall.
Stepping through, we’re in a smaller room filled with empty, dust-covered shelves.
To one side is a room, which Donnie heads for. It’s a half wall with windows going the rest of the way to the ceiling.
Inside, I can see an office with a desk, a computer, four chairs, some bookshelves, and filing cabinets.
Donnie walks around behind the desk and sits down.
The chair squeaks loudly as he leans back, swiveling side to side and staring at me with those penetrating blue eyes.
I stand opposite him, shifting from foot to foot in discomfort.
He motions to the chair near me so I sit down in it.
It’s a straight back, wooden chair that is every bit as uncomfortable as it sounds.
My numb hands are now competing with my butt for which is the most uncomfortable and desperately in need of unrestricted blood flow.
“So,” Donnie begins, resting one hand on the desk.
Alex drags a chair over next to the wall, sits down, then leans onto the back two legs resting his head against the wall.
The woman remains standing but shifts so that she’s directly behind me and out of my sight.
“Look, thanks for the hand back there, really. But I’d like to go now. I need to… ”
Donnie stares at me with his shocking blue eyes and my mind goes blank.
I can’t tell him the truth, and I can’t come up with a lie that will be convincing when I say it.
“Yes?” Donnie prompts me.
I shake my head then try to speak again.
My mouth moves but my throat’s so dry, I can barely squeak.
“Francesca, would you mind getting our guest a bottle of water?”
I hear her move behind me followed by the sound of a door opening and closing.
She’s cold when she stands behind me, holding the bottle up to my lips.
I drink it in, grateful for both the water and the time it gives me to compose my thoughts.
These people are obviously a criminal organization of some kind. I don’t know what sort, but I’ve grown up around this kind of thing my entire life. I know what I’m seeing.
Combined with how they found me…okay, fine—how they rescued me—where does that leave me? Up shit creek with no paddle, of course.
I don’t have an option but to put at least some trust in them. They did save me back there, which was pretty much the bravest thing I’ve ever seen anyone do.
No one, and I mean no one, has ever stood up to my father in the slightest.
As a child, whenever I did anything wrong, punishment was swift and severe.
It also rarely came from my father—he had one of his men do it, which somehow made it worse. As if I wasn’t worth his own effort to spank, I was something to be relegated to the help.
Swallowing hard, I decide to tell the truth—or most of it anyway.
“My… close friend worked for the Baldini family.”
“Friend?” Donnie asks, arching an eyebrow and my heart skips a beat, but it’s from fear of being caught in my lie.
Or maybe it’s the way he looks at me. I don’t know.
“Yes,” I lie, leaving the implications without saying them out loud that my friend was actually my boyfriend.
As if—my father would have any boy killed who looked at me twice.
“I see. Continue,” Donnie says, pursing his lips and I can’t stop myself from wondering what his lips would taste like, what they would feel like, pressed against mine.
“His mother was sick—very sick—and he wasn’t a… ” I pause but my mind is racing.
I can’t say too much. If I
know too much of how a family is organized, it will give away my lie.
This is where I have to be careful to say just the right amount. One mistake and I’m in trouble.
“A what?” Donnie prompts gently, and I purse my lips and try to look thoughtful.
“High up?” I say, making it a question.
“I see,” Donnie says.
“Yeah, I guess that’s what you would say. He didn’t make a lot of money. He talked a lot, you know? He told me he was ‘making his bones’ and that it would get better.”
“I believe I understand,” Donnie says. “Please continue.”
He stares at me with those eyes and part of me is certain he knows I’m lying, that he knows exactly who I am, which is why I’m still in these cuffs. It could be that he’s just playing along with me in some kind of sick game for his own amusement. If he is, I’m screwed either way, so I launch back into my story.
“His mom was sick, like I said—cancer—and the insurance only paid so much. He was short the deductible but she needed it. He was running bags for… them, and I guess, well, he took some money. Not a lot! Just enough to pay the deductible. He would have paid it back, too.”
I don’t have to fake the tears that start falling.
“I see,” Donnie says. “Alex?”
I hang my head, wishing I could wipe the tears from my eyes or stop my nose from running. I look and feel a wreck.
I don’t want those sharp, beautiful blue eyes looking at me when I look like this.
“What?” Alex asks sullenly.
“What do you think of her story?” Donnie asks.
Alex drops the front legs of the chair to the floor with a thud that makes me jump, and I look at him through my hanging hair.
He shrugs, shakes his head, then holds his hands up in front, palms out.
“Fuck if I know,” he says.
I hold my breath, waiting to see what happens next.
“I see,” Donnie says. “Francesca?”
“It wouldn’t surprise me,” she says, and I let out my held breath. “You know how they are. Animals.”
“Indeed,” Donnie says, turning back to me. “So, your… friend stole some money. How does this end up with you in the care of those men and with the two of us… running into each other?”
Damn it, how did I end up there?
I let the tears flow, buying time for me to come up with an answer as I sob.