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“Not yet. I’m working on it.”
“Well, I’d work fast because if she has too much time on her hands, she’ll be able to think of really cool ways to kill you. You might wake up one morning, step out of bed and” — he signals his hand slicing across his throat — “straight into a booby trap that slices your head clean off.”
“You been watching Indiana Jones again?”
“It’s a classic,” he says with a shrug before he downs his whisky. “Anyway, I gotta go. I want to stop by and see Fred and make sure they’re not running into any more trouble.”
Alfredo Farina has worked for me for six years, and he runs the warehouses for me. We own enough legitimate businesses to justify the lifestyles we live and to keep the IRS off our backs. However, if anything illegal comes into this city, then it goes through me and I take a percentage. In addition, we take a cut from the casinos and the strip clubs in return for our protection. It’s a lucrative business, but one that people always want a piece of.
“They had more trouble?” I ask with a frown.
“Nothing serious.” Maximo shakes his head. “They dealt with it, but Fred thinks there’s something going on. The Russians have been a little too quiet like maybe they’re moving operations elsewhere to keep us out of the loop.”
I scrub a hand through my beard. I don’t trust my Russian counterpart. Never have. But he had an alliance with my father, so we have an uneasy truce.
“While things are quiet, I don’t want to start a war for no reason, Max. Tell Fred to keep his eyes open and keep us informed.”
“Will do, D,” he says before disappearing out of the door and leaving me alone to go over the events of the day.
My father’s reaction wasn’t entirely unexpected, even if it did seem a little over the top. Mostly I think about Kat and the fact that she is lying alone in one of my beds upstairs. I brought her here to work off her brother’s debt, right? So why can’t I get the image of me crawling over her and spreading her thighs wide open until I can sink inside her out of my head?
Chapter4
Kat
This is all so surreal; I’m beginning to wonder if it’s a dream. Surely, I’m going to wake up in my own bed, in my tiny bedroom at my place any minute now. I screw my eyes shut and then open them again.
Nope. Still here. Lying on a king-size bed in a beautiful bedroom that’s almost bigger than my entire house, with huge sash windows and shelves stacked with old leather-bound books, not to mention a TV on the wall that is twice the size of my one at home. If I wasn’t being held prisoner by a psychopath, it could almost be fun.
I settle back against the pillows and stare at the ceiling. I could try to pretend that I’m staying in some fancy hotel for the night. Maybe then I could get some sleep. This place is way nicer than any hotel I’ve ever stayed at, but at least I could get up and walk out of there whenever the hell I wanted. Not here though. I have visions of sniper rifles trained on my head as soon as I step out of the door.
I haven’t seen Dante since this afternoon. Sophia brought me dinner, and I ate it because it was freaking delicious and also I was starving. I was about four bites into the most delicious fillet steak when I realized the food might have been drugged. But I figured the damage was already done so I cleared the plate.
Am I still awake? Yes. Am I still breathing? Also yes. So I guess it was okay after all. Besides, I’m pretty sure Dante has other, more unpleasant ways of disposing of people than poisoning them.
Sophia was kind to me. She showed me where the towels were in the bathroom and where I could find fresh linen if needed, as well as how to operate the fancy looking TV remote which has more buttons than a space station. So, yeah, she seems nice, apart from working for the devil that is. I wonder if he kidnapped her too. Is his entire mansion staffed by people he’s kidnapped and refuses to let leave.
My heart pounds, and I force myself to take some deep breaths and slow my thoughts. I have a tendency to ramble in my head when I’m anxious or nervous. I have every right to be nervous though, don’t I? I locked that door as soon as Sophia took my dinner tray, but at any moment, Dante Moretti could come bursting through it, all rippling muscles and tattoos and do whatever the hell he wants with me.
I shudder at the thought. But he knows I was a nurse. Hopefully, that’s what he wants me for, although I have no idea why. He’s clearly in excellent physical health. I mean, he’s tall and muscular, and he has perfect teeth.
Stop it, Kat!
Nursing had always been my dream job. My mom was a nurse too, and it was all I ever wanted to do. I always wanted to work in pediatrics because I love kids, but when my mom was killed in a car wreck when I was fifteen, I decided I wanted to work in the ER instead. Maybe I was looking to help save people just like my mom so that their kids wouldn’t have to open the front door one night to a police officer, who struggled to hold it together when they told them their mom was gone.
And I did it too. I worked at Northwestern Memorial for three years and they were some of the happiest of my life. But that was before.
A tear races down my cheek. I swat it away and pick up the complicated TV remote. I need something to distract me so I switch it on and flick through the channels until I find some old reruns ofFriends. My mom loved this show, and we used to watch it with her all the time. It’s like chicken soup TV and despite my circumstances, I smile as Chandler and Joey ride into Monica and Rachel’s apartment on that hideous white dog.
* * *
I wakeup with the TV still on and my face glued to the pillow with drool.
I didn’t close the curtains because just being able to see the outside world made me feel like less of a prisoner. Sunlight dapples the wooden floor, bathing the room in a soft yellow glow. I must have slept all night even though I rarely sleep for more than five or six hours. I guess being kidnapped by the Mafia takes it out of a girl. And this bed is so damn comfy, it’s like sleeping on a cloud.
After I take a quick shower and freshen up, I dress in my jeans and a sweater and unlock the door. The hallway is quiet. I wonder what time Mafia dons get out of bed in the morning. Or do they mostly sleep all day and work at night like vampires? Dante did say I could go anywhere in the house and my growling stomach is telling me I need to find the kitchen in this huge-ass place. I tiptoe out of the room, careful not to wake anyone just in case nobody is awake yet and I might have a chance to escape.
Walking down the hallway and making my way to the stairs, I groan inwardly as I spot the armed guards by the front door. There goes my escape attempt.
