Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 56680 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 227(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56680 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 227(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
I could tell them the truth, and my sick mother would have to wake up to find her son has been killed. Or I could lie.
I swallow, emotions gripping me when I read the bit about his mom. You didn’t tell me your mom was sick.
She’s in the hospital, he replies. It doesn’t make what I did right, but I need to be there for her.
He’s right. It doesn’t make it okay, but somehow, I wish he’d led with that.
What am I supposed to do?
I shouldn’t be long.
I guess I’ll have dinner waiting on the table for you like a good kidnapped wife, hmm, honey?
That sounds good, but somehow, I don’t think you’re serious.
I laugh, even if I’m pissed at myself for laughing. Yeah, Dante, obviously, I’m not serious. I don’t text him back. Instead, I lie on the couch, trying to figure out how this will all end. What the hell can he tell them? What is Dad going to do?
Fear tries to twist in my belly, but then I remind myself—not a princess, a wolf. That’s so cheesy it hurts, but sometimes, the cheesy stuff is the truest.
The apartment feels so empty. I sit up and look around. I’ve never been much good on my own. Being around people, talking, even texting, it’s like I can use their voices to block out the ones inside.
I pick up the phone again.
Leaving me with only one number is a smooth way to ensure you’re the only person I speak to. Another girl might call that possessive.
Being a kidnapper automatically makes me possessive, doesn’t it? By definition?
I love how you’re already joking and getting lighthearted about it, I type. This has been the most terrifying day of my life.
I’m guessing that’s sarcasm? Sorry, Mia.
“Sorry” doesn’t really help me, I tell him.
If it wasn’t for my ma, I swear I’d let you go, but it’s more complicated than that.
Explain it to me, then. It’s not like I’ve got anything else to do.
But I have, he replies. I just got word from Elio. Another man is going to be at the meeting. Tony Marino.
I can’t sit still. Pacing around the big living room somehow makes me feel even more alone. You don’t have to tell me anything, Mia, but a daughter doesn’t run from her father for no good reason.
That’s none of your business, I tell him.
I have to go now. I’ll be back soon with some clothes.
I type out a reply—don’t bother coming back—but then I delete it and put the phone down. There’s nothing to do but sit down and exist with my thoughts. It’s not exactly something I enjoy, but I can’t escape it, either. Dante is a mafia enforcer. Maybe he’s putting a good face on it, telling me sorry repeatedly, but his nasty side could come out.
Just because I want him on some messed-up level doesn’t mean I know him. I’ve got to remember that. He could have a whole other side. He said it himself. He would’ve killed Vito, even if it hadn’t happened by accident.
CHAPTER 11
Dante
Tony Marino is a big wet-looking motherfucker, grinning like he’s trying to suggest something as we gather around the table. Colt is leaning against the wall, looking big and intimidating, and Luca and Elio seem impassive. They’re all subtly suggesting that this bastard is in charge.
I need to relax. I don’t know anything for sure, only that he would’ve forced her to marry that scumbag.
“So, where’d you get your security degree?” Tony says.
“Uncle Tony—” Luca starts, but Tony cuts in, raising his hand, flashing a gold Rolex. “Seriously, Dante… It’s Dante, yeah, kid?”
I grit my teeth and almost clench my fists. Tony Marino is basically a second Don. The West Coast is a smaller operation than ours, but he’s much, much higher up on the chain than me. “It’s Dante.”
“I want to know. What are your qualifications?”
“I’ve worked for the Marinos since I was seventeen.”
“Hmm. I see. So how is it my good friend Vito is currently a cold sack downtown, on ice, while they try to figure out what the fuck happened, hmm?” He grins, but it’s more like he’s baring his teeth. “My police friends tell me somebody acquired the security footage. Wiped it clean.”
“Why weren’t you there?” Elio says.
Tony snaps his fingers. “Yes, that’s the question. Elio, you always were the smart one. Just ask Leo the Lion. He’ll tell you.”
I’ve got to play this smart. I’ve got to make this man believe, which will be humiliating. I think of Mom in the hospital bed, the wires and the pumps and the bags attached to her. I can do this.
“I went home.”
“Home?” Tony snaps.
“I went into the restaurant, but then Vito came over. He told me to leave.”
“And you just did it?”
This is the important bit. I look down, letting shame touch my features. It’s not always difficult. Sometimes, it feels like I have so much to be ashamed of—so much evil, so many sick grins in the mayhem. “He didn’t leave me much choice.”