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She’s on to you, big guy.
“Ask what you may,” Torin smiled with his jaw twitching, “I have nothing to hide.”
The hell you don’t, Donja thought but as she watched, it occurred to her that there was something unspoken in his eyes. She cocked her head.
She hit a nerve…my God, are you capable of pain?
“Okay,” Lisa snapped with a hand to her waist. “Where did you get all this money? How do I know you’re not a gangster and that you’re dragging my daughter into a world of danger?”
His gaze turned stolid as he brushed back a fringe of hair. “Well, you’re right about the danger. This world we live in is more dangerous than ever. Just watch the news, it’s packed with terrorist attacks, children shooting each other in school, murder, mayhem and the casualties rise daily, so yes,” he glared. “I may inadvertently put Donja in danger by our presence at a museum, or sporting event, or an opera…even a movie theater…wasn’t there just a mass shooting at one here in this country?”
Lisa’s eyes narrowed to thin slits and she was just about to contradict, but fell silent as Torin’s voice deepened. “But intentional danger?” he cocked his head unnaturally. “Never,” he whispered in an eerie, barely audible voice. “I would protect her with my life and as to your last suggestion that I might be a gangster, how flattering,” he said romancing the words, “but you’re wrong again, for my work which involves a tedious affair with gems, is far less exciting.”
“Gems?”
“Yes. My late mother owned diamond mines in Africa which I inherited and I’ve made sound investments.”
“That doesn’t jive,” Lisa hissed. “Then why would you work a meager detective job, isn’t that below you?”
“No, I love my job and money can’t buy the satisfaction of getting criminals off the streets.”
“Mother, please, let’s forgo the interrogation,” Donja said as she marched forward her spiked boots tapping on the hardwood floor.
Torin’s eyes swept over her and his lips parted, ever so slightly.
“Flowers,” she said with a forced smile.
“Hmmm, sorry,” he frowned, eluding her gaze, “but these are for you mother.”
Lisa took a step forward, inches from Torin’s face. “Keep your flowers, I don’t need them, I need my daughter back,” she said as she cast a look to Donja, “but it appears that’s not going to happen.” Her eyes narrowed. “If you hurt her I’ll find you in the dead of night, Torin…my God,” she mumbled as she combed her hair with her fingers, “I can’t even remember your last name.” She turned to walk away, tears welling in her eyes.
“It’s Mancini,” Torin said. “Torin Cade Mancini.”
Donja took his arm, leading him into the foyer. She yanked the front door wide. Rain pelted their faces as Donja raised a hand to block the winds. He set the flowers on the steps, raised the umbrella, and pulled her tight as they dashed down steps and out the walk to the Ferrari.
He opened her door, his signature style intact. Donja blotted raindrops off her cheeks and buckled up as he rounded the car and slid in. He spoke, and the car started.
“You look ravishing,” he said with a flash of his eyes. Donja turned away, silently watching the torrential downpour sheeting the window.
“You’re angry, I can detect your pulse which is about 115,” he whispered, “not healthy for a mortal.”
A boom of thunder forced her to flinch.
He put his hand on the exposed skin between the top of her boot and the hemline of her dress.
She shoved his hand away.
He hit the accelerator and the Ferrari whined as it lunged forward, raindrops pelting the windshield like bullets.
Donja gazed through the window, enlivened by whorls. She bit at her tongue, her mother’s tears imprinted in her mind. They passed through the Soo and across the International Bridge. At customs, Torin didn’t even ask, he just snatched her clutch from her lap, her face to the window, showed their I.D. then lay it back. He gassed the car, out from the bridge down Huron Street and Donja assumed they were headed for Observes, but instead, he took a sharp turn which flung her clutch to the floorboard, tires squealing. He accelerated, the car flying down a deserted highway.
The storm escalated and Donja just stared out the window as streaks of lightning illumed the sky.
Where is he taking me?
She dropped her head with a rapid glance to his face as she retrieved her clutch. She turned back to the window. He was angry, so much so that his jaw twitched incessantly and his eyes which he held firm to the road were like pools of boiling tar.
Zooming down the two-lane highway, he suddenly swerved, tires squealing as they bypassed a downed tree and then like a tempest of angry gods, thunder boomed as the Ferrari picked up speed, penetrating the gale. They took their leave of civilization, winds whipping the forest into a maddening frenzy. They must have traveled fifty miles, not a house in sight, and as the storm churned with deadly malice, Donja grew increasingly angry, so much so that the heartfelt safety of her family was blown away, lost in the raging abyss.
