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CHAPTER THREE
Whaaaat?
My whole body is shaking on the inside. I will myself to take long, slow breaths so I don’t hyperventilate.
Rafe turns to Chung. “Tell James to hand Priscilla’s cellphone to Alessandro. He can give it to her brother as a memento from me.”
“Wait, I’m sure we can figure this out,” I manage to say despite the panic racking my body.
Rafe waits patiently for me to offer more than that.
I grasp at straws. “Maybe Peter delivered it to the wrong location? Another pawnshop?”
“Maybe,” Rafe says as if humoring a child who wants a second helping of ice cream before finishing their first. “In the meantime, you belong to me.”
I don’t like the way that sounds, least of which because it makes me seem like property he owns. My mind whirls. How can this be happening? Peter had said he would take care of delivering the Morelli so I could go see Mom. He would have contacted me if something had gone wrong. I had texted him, wishing him a good trip to Costa Rica, where he had planned to celebrate our successful heist with his girlfriend, Gigi. He had replied with a thumbs-up emoji.
“Look, if I can just talk to my brother, I’m sure we can sort out what happened,” I say to Rafe.
He thinks it over, then turns to the bald guy. “Give her your phone.”
With trembling hands, I dial my brother. It rings and rings.
“He’s probably not picking up because he doesn’t recognize the number or it’s blocked,” I explain. “I should use my own cell to call him.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
He only stares in return. Is it because he doesn’t want anyone to track my phone to this location? Because this might be my final resting place?
“You could take me to my phone if you don’t want me to call from here,” I offer.
“That’s a hassle,” Rafe replies. “Don’t you trust your brother to come through for you?”
“Of course! But he doesn’t have the Morelli.”
“You can’t be sure of that.”
“My brother wouldn’t welch on an arrangement.”
“We’ll find out, won’t we?” He turns to the bald guy. “Have Vladimir take her to the Artemisia Room.”
I rack my brain for what could have happened to the painting and how I can convince Rafe to let me go. I draw a blank. The bald guy takes me by the arm. I let him lead me out the door where another man waits behind it.
The bald guy addresses him. “Boss says to take her to the Artemisia Room. He’s keeping her for a week. Stay with her until instructed further.”
Vladimir is a beefy guy with a flat face and crooked nose. He doesn’t say anything but takes me from the bald guy. I don’t want to go with him, but I don’t think I have much of a choice.
I walk with Vladimir down a hallway filled with displays of busts, pottery, copperware and the occasional sculpture. I feel like I’m walking through a museum. We turn down a hallway lined with windows overlooking a huge pool with a view of the vineyards. Judging by the setting sun, I must have been out for several hours thanks to the shot in the arm. There’s a good chance we’re still in California, maybe even in the Bay Area.
“Wow,” I say. “Where are we?”
But Vladimir stares straight ahead.
“This kind of looks like wine country.”
Nothing.
