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I peek to the front seats, where a balding driver stares only forward to the road, and a muscular man with a tattooed sleeve fidgets in the passenger’s seat. They’re both American. I can tell.
The shape of the passenger looks familiar, and I squint, unable to place him from the back.
“Curious all of a sudden?” the man with the knife says, and I grimace.
“I’ll give you everything. I make a decent salary as a bookkeeper. I’ll give you my whole check, just tell me where to meet you and leave me alone. That’s all I ask,” I raise my voice so the two Americans can hear my desperate deal. “Ask Paul. Ask him. I’m never late.” When they laugh again, my mental odds of survival dwindle.
“Ellie Rigiano, in the flesh.” The spindly man inches closer to me. His impulsive energy leaps off of him, like he could lunge and stab at any moment. “You know Daddy used to hire me for jobs too, back in the day. He never let me anywhere near your house, though. You were off limits. Until now.”
“Enough, Terry,” the passenger calls from the front, and Terry snaps his tongue, annoyed.
Terry’s a hothead. And he doesn’t appreciate the chain of command, because it took no more than thirty seconds before he started yapping again.
“What a waste of a pretty princess.” Terry inches closer to me again, dangling the knife near my breasts.
“What do you mean a waste? Where are you taking me? Please. My brother will find me—”
“Oh, oh, oh. But… has he found you in your little community? Has he even looked?” Terry smiles wide now, letting the knife tear through my shirt so the skin of my cleavage lay exposed.
That’s right. I’ve been alone since Marco died. I took it upon myself to change my identity, and trusted Paul Rickard, the fucking snake, to set me up and leave me be.
Now it’s official.
No one will even know I’m dead.
“Boss said he might have you impregnated to disgrace your family. Wouldn’t that be nice? We would present you to your father in jail after the kid’s already out. He’d look at you and the enemy seed in your arms, and we’d all be behind you, watching.” Terry licks his lips, his breath metallic and hungry. He smells like oil.
I shiver.
“Either that, or a stint of karma for refusing to partner with us on the trafficking business.” Terry smiles like a jester, and I want to die. “That’s right, Ellie. You’re either going to get my dick over and over again, or be sold to the highest bidder. Which will it be?” He waves the knife back and forth like it’s a tipping scale.
I glance at the knife, knowing I would never be able to overpower one, let alone five men all twice my size and strength. But I have to do something… I have to—
“Enough!” The passenger spins and climbs into the back. His grey eyes shine in the passing streetlights, his beard perfectly trim, features strong and commanding. Yes, I know that man.
It’s the fucking Valentino family. Bottom of the barrel, no honor, shitheads.
They killed Marco!
I fidget and find Terry’s knife to my neck.
The passenger grabs Terry by the hair and whips him into the door, his expression stone cold. “Stop the car,” his deep voice rumbles through the enclosed space, followed by a screech of the breaks.
Terry is fuming with his teeth bared, hand firmly clenched around the knife, and the passenger notices.
“I dare you,” is all the passenger says.
Terry comes to his senses and drops the knife, holding his hands up pleadingly. “Donny, I didn’t mean—”
Donny punches the door, inches from Terry’s head, and the two men behind him lean back.
Terry’s the one trembling now, and it gives me some sort of comfort. Maybe there is still a speck of order in this bottom feeder crime family.
Donny swings the door open and kicks Terry hard out of the SUV.
Terry scrapes along the concrete and kicks backward when Donny jumps out to follow.
“Boss. Boss. Take it easy, please.” The Goomba beside me crawls out of the Escalade.
