Page 22 of Veil of Vengeance

Doctor Callahan continues to look unbothered as Romiro scans the paper before sighing and folding it to fit into his jeans pocket.

“See that door. In there, you’ll find a shower, some toiletries, and other things you might need. Take your time.” Doctor Callahan points at the door near his desk. I nod and mutter a thank you as I pass him.

Romiro and Doctor Callahan remain quiet until I close the door of the washroom. I can’t exactly make out what they are saying through the door. It also doesn’t help that they’re speaking in hushed voices. I, instead, decide to look around the washroom. Pale green walls, black marble tiles, and a black-accented shower.

There is also a toilet on the far end of the room. Next to the shower, there are two brown cabinets. After searching both cabinets, I find that there isn’t anything but nine bottles, three shampoos, three conditioners, and three body washes. All vanilla scented. In the second cabinet, I find towels, also in threes. I’m starting to think that the doctor has a thing for the number three.

* * *

I didn’t realizehow dirty I had felt, not until I finally showered and changed into some clean clothes. I try to dry my hair as best as I can with the towel, but it’s still damp by the time I walk out the door. Romiro’s pacing the room while speaking on the phone about something that doesn’t make sense, while doctor Callahan is sitting behind his desk, typing on his laptop.

Neither of them looks in my direction. But Romiro is quick to end the call. He runs his hand through his hair and slips his phone into his pocket.

“Come on, we need to leave.” He heads to the door and holds it open for me. I huff a breath of frustration and do as he ordered. Romiro lets me walk ahead of him, but not for long. I stop at the end of the long corridor, confused as to where I should go. There are two doors. Romiro comes to a stop next to me.

“So what’s the plan, boss?” His tone is teasing, as if he’s talking to a friend, but his friendly exterior doesn’t fool me. I know that behind that exterior lies a man willing to maim, kill, and absolutely destroy those who pose a threat to the Camorra.

“Not taking the bait, I see. Smart girl. Come on, this way.” He huffs out a breath at my refusal to speak to him and moves with the gracefulness of a panther to the door ahead of us.

We go through multiple corridors before we find our way to the one that had the cells, but instead, he heads to the elevator doors and presses the button. The doors slide open with a silent hiss. Romiro looks back at me and raises one eyebrow. It makes me aware that I have stopped a few steps away from him.

“Don’t make me grab you. I am rather fond of my hands.” He mutters the last part. I don’t know what he means.

He also doesn’t explain it to me when I give him a look of confusion. We step onto the elevator, and he presses the top button, a screen near it glowing red. It scans his thumb print when he presses the screen, then it flashes green and the elevator ascends.

Romiro doesn’t look back at me, just straight ahead as if he’s lost in his thoughts. The elevator doesn’t take long as the doors slide open to a sleek modern office with colors of gold, black, and some hints of dark green.

The Capo of the Camorra is sitting behind a large glass desk, leaning back in his office chair. I guess even the devil looks magnificent in hell. He seems to be on the phone, answering whoever is on the other end with grunts muttered words.

Romiro and I step off the elevator, but I maintain eye contact with his boss. His eyes burn as they take me in. I guess he has a problem with the joggers and hoodie I’m wearing.

I narrow my eyes at him, which makes the left corner of his lips lift in a smug smirk. Ass. His gaze then flickers to Romiro, who sits in one of the two chairs positioned near the desk, but they quickly move back to me.

“Listen, Carmine. As much as I would love to come to help you to rein in your wild son, I have more pressing matters at hand.” His tone suggests anything but what he just said, but his eyes don’t move from mine. The smirk on Emilino’s full lips doesn’t disappear, even as he continues to take in the scowl on my face. He throws his phone on his desk after ending the call, not waiting for a response.

“Can you two stop eye-fucking each other? It’s making me uncomfortable. If you want, Eli, I could leave.”

My head snaps in Romiro’s direction. His attention moves from me to Emiliano to get a better look at our faces, grinning from ear to ear.

“You know, I’m starting to believe you’re just a clown for the Camorra’s Capo.”

Romiro’s expression doesn’t change at the insult I hurled his way, but he leans back into his seat. Amusement dancing with something else in his eyes.

“She’s funny, I like her. Can we keep her?” He turns his head to Emiliano. Does this asshole think I’m a doll or some shit? Emiliano shakes his head at him and turns my way.

“Sit.” His command comes out the way you’d expect it to from a Capo. Authoritative, domineering, and assertive. Leaving no room for argument.

“Should I bark as well?” He doesn’t answer, his expression bored as he stares at me. My mouth lifts in a sneer as I stomp my way to the chair opposite Romiro, who’s sitting there, now trying to hide his grin behind his palm. I cross my arms over my chest and sit down, staring at the wall behind Romiro.

“Well, what’s the plan, Eli?” Romiro’s the one to speak up after a beat of silence.

“We’ll be leaving for New Hampshire soon. I just need to sort some shit out first,” he replies. The sound of papers shuffling fills the room, but it stops when a noise erupts from my stomach. Oh my fucking God. I can feel my face turning red as the heat travels up my neck. Someone clears their throat.

“Romiro, go grab her some food. I can’t exchange a dead body for someone alive. She’d be useless dead.”

Of course, it would inconvenience them if I were to die. I roll my eyes and decide to pick at my nails instead.

A chair scraping against the floor and footsteps heading in the opposite direction should sound alarm bells in my mind. But they don’t. I continue to pick at my nail bed until a small bead of blood forms on the surface.

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