Page 64 of Demon's Angel

It’s then I hear his voice, speaking in English, “Revenge is never over, old man. Debts have to be paid.”

The first voice again, “Non così. Non lo permetterò.”

“You won’t permit it?” Angelino’s voice again. The sound sends shivers down my spine.

The other speaker switches to English. “The alliances…”

“Are old. We don’t need them anymore. You’ve seen how easily we can corrupt their businesses. The don is a weak, old man, hanging onto the old days when a handshake was a man’s bond. The same goes for you. It’s time for you both to… retire.”

There’s silence. I’m trying to work out what I’m hearing. The Italian speaker seems upset with whatever situation this is, what I’m part of. I get a sense that he’s in danger from Angelino.Who is he?

I think I’ve gotten my answer when Angelino speaks again, “La tua giornata è finita, Sanna.”

Sanna?The last word was sneered, said sarcastically, as though it was a name.Who is he talking to?He’d mentioned the don being weak. Is Angelino making a play to become boss? The more I think about it, the more sense it makes. I try to think back over what Demon had said, how bad a villain I’d been conned by. Does the underboss get an automatic promotion if he gets his father out of the way? The Angel of Death arguably would become one of the most powerful men in this part of Colorado. Or at least, where the underworld is concerned.

How the hell did I get involved in all this? Growing up, I was the normal child of a normal American family. I wasn’t even aware of the gangs walking the streets. Oh, I knew drugs were around, but none of my friends had done more than dabble in weed. It seems laughable I’ve gotten myself tied up in this. Why on earth did I answer that ad and jump at the chance of an interview? Where somehow I’d ended up raped, abandoned and pregnant.

My father would turn in his grave if he knew what I was mixed up in. My mother? Well, for the first time I believe that it’s best she knows nothing about it.

“I miei uomini sono ancora fedeli.”

I hear doors slamming and a car departing. Then it either returns, or a different one arrives. Voices are shouting. A sudden crash followed by gunshots has me throwing myself behind the only shelter in the room, a worn sofa. Then there’s an ominous silence.Has Angelino killed the man he’d been speaking to?

Am I an unwilling witness to a power struggle?And if so, which side won? For a moment I’m hopeful that Angelino was on the wrong side of the gun, but doubt I’d be that lucky. Staying in what my body seems to think is a safe place, though my head tells me nothing here meets that description, I stay crouched down, trying to interpret the sounds from below. Bangs, scrapes, and what sounds like something heavy being dragged. An ‘oomph’ of protest sounds. My mind conjures up all manner of things which are, from what I heard, not far from the truth. Bodies being moved. Is Angelino’s father one of them?

One thing’s for certain, it’s not a rescue by Demon’s men; I hear no Devils’ voices which gives me some relief; hopefully my man is alive. But all’s not well in the Mafia family, that’s clear.

When I hear footsteps on the stairs, I stay crouched down, hoping they’ll pass by my room. A snick of the lock and the door opens. I hunker down, trying to make myself invisible. Then two pairs of feet appear, one at either side of the couch. At least one pair of shoes appears to have fresh blood on them. One of the men has some kind of device in his hand, and he waves it toward me. One side of his mouth turns up, and he nods at the other in satisfaction.

The other stares at me, his eyes raking down my body, making my skin crawl. Then he issues an instruction.

“Take off your necklace.”

I glance up, my hand protectively covering the locket.

“Take it off,” the man repeats. “Or we’ll take it off for you.”

I’d have no chance against them. I need to save myself for a bigger battle. I’m going to lose a symbol that I’d like to cling onto, but it’s not worth being hurt or incapacitated for. Maybe they want it to prove to Demon they have me captive?

As the man starts to move a step closer to me, with shaking hands I reach behind my neck, undo the clasp and pass it over.

The first man examines it, then nods. It appears to be all that they wanted. The door closes behind them and is relocked.

Cars come and go, but I’m left alone. Gradually light fades from the window. Since the argument and fight I’ve heard little more, just the murmur of voices and the odd sound letting me know I’ve not been left alone. I’m grateful Angelino hasn’t renewed our acquaintance; he can wait until hell freezes over as far as I’m concerned.

But what is he waiting for? Has he contacted Demon? Is he demanding my son? Does he realise I won’t be any part of that? That I’ll leave Theo where he is, not even the empty promise of being reunited would make me change my mind.

Will Angelino be coming?

Time passes. Not only does Angelino not come, but no one else checks on me either. I’d be content to stay in this room forgotten forever. Except for one thing. The demands of my bladder. I try crossing my legs, but know that’s not going to work, I’m becoming desperate. I’m surprised I’ve lasted this long, but fear must have overridden my body’s needs. Now, though, it can no longer be denied.

Unwilling to draw attention to myself, I look around for a handy receptacle, but can see nothing, and, even scared as I am, the thought of using a corner of the room is disgusting. Pulling my stiff legs under me, I rise to my feet and approach the door. Banging on it feebly isn’t going to summon help, I realise quickly; the wood seems solid.

But I heard them. Maybe they’ll hear me.

“Is anyone there?” I call out, unsure how to summon a kidnapper to escort me to a bathroom. “I need help.”

It takes one more call before I hear the sound of footsteps on the stairs, then a key turning in the lock. I hold my breath, dreading to see Angelino, but it’s not him. It’s a man with a rifle slung over his shoulder.

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