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Instant headache…
I’m trying to –
Shit. Why couldn’t it be the other guy kidnapping me? The one…with the…beautiful…eyes….
* * *
“You said she couldn’t be one of the Martinelli family.” A familiar voice says cuttingly.
“I saw it with my own eyes, boss. I followed her home just like you said. And thereshewas, with old man Martinelli waiting for her. Right out front, he followed her all the way back.” The other voice says.
I can open my eyes, but my hands and feet feel tight, and in a second, I’m trying to gasp for air, to scream in panic.
I’ve never been hog-tied and gagged, and I can safely say I never want to experience this ever again.
That’s if I can get outta here.
Whatever they knocked me out with has worn off, and I can clearly see I’m in a restaurant kitchen, tied up by the back door.
A smug-looking face peers over a stainless steel countertop. “Tried to tell you, but you wouldn’t listen…,” she purrs.
The face, I thought, looked a little like mine.
Turns out Maria Portello’s way more part bitch than I first thought.
“Maria!” Don Portello snaps, moving into the light above me, almost blocking my view.
“You shouldn’t have even shown your face today. Let alone seethis,” he scolds her.
She doesn’t flinch, as if she’s used to being spoken to like that.
Her cruel smile is her farewell to me before she shrugs and saunters off someplace, making me wonder what exactlyarethey doing here, and more to the point –what are they going to do with me?
My gag is loosened with a jut of my chin, and I sit up but am still tied.
“Andyou…,” The old man muses aloud, scanning my curves, letting his fingers hold a curl of my hair for a second.
“I wanted to use you as a decoy to make them think you somehow were Maria somehow….”
Letting my hair fall, he clicks his tongue to himself, and one of the men guarding me stifles a laugh.
But the old man doesn’t see the humor in it.
“And you have any better ideas?” he shouts at the man. “I think Martinelli is up to a lot more than just sending his halfwit, overgrown boy down here,” he growls, starting to pace.
Giving each man, in turn, a fierce look as he thinks out loud.
“…But I still can,” he smiles to himself, silently answering some of his own questions as he looks me over one more time.
“Yes. Nobody’s seen Maria, except you. Howcouldthey know?” he asks nobody in particular, but it’s clear every man knows to keep quiet while the boss ‘thinks.’
“And you’re sure it was Martinelli with his son?” he snaps, everyone nodding swiftly in reply.
Growling under his breath, the old man seems to have reached his conclusions.
“We’ll have to get ready. I don’t think that Don Martinelli is just gonna –.”
But he doesn’t get to finish his sentence.
