Page 13 of Taken By the Mafia King
A van sat idling at the bottom of the steps. One of his men casually puffed a cigarette as he leaned against it. Night had fallen, the only light that of the ember at the end of the man’s cigarette and the faint glow coming through the windows that spilled over the driveway.
“In,” Killian said to me as if I were a dog. I obeyed, like a dog. Like a fool. What else could I have done? Fought theMano Della Morte?
If what he’d done inside this house served as an indication of what he was capable of? Well, I knew my odds, and they weren’t good at all.
He allowed me to climb into the back of the van by myself but grabbed my arm before I shifted over to the far window and shook his head. “Hands,” he said, snapping his fingers.
“Why?” I bit my lip and squeezed my eyes shut. I waited for the slap I knew would burn my cheek any second, but it didn’t come. I slowly opened my eyes to find him watching me with interest as he toyed with the bag that had been over my head only moments ago.
I held out my hands.
“Good girl.” He secured my wrists with cuffs and tightened them. The ghost of a wicked smile touched the corners of his mouth as he held up the bag, letting it dangle from the tips of his fingers by the rope.
I shook my head. Not again. “I’ll keep my eyes closed.”
He snorted.
“Please. It smells bad. It’s dark.”
It’s dark?God, I sounded pathetic.
But he didn’t laugh at me. Instead, he turned the bag over in his hands, pulling the opening apart. “I wasn’t asking.”
I fought to hold back my tears as I bowed my head in submission. He slid the bag back over my head and secured it with a tug on the ropes, pulling the drawstring just tight enough that I wouldn’t be able to pull it off if I somehow gathered the nerve to try. As soon as the bag was on and I found myself plunged back into darkness, I let the tears fall. At least he couldn’t see them. In the inky blackness my mind wandered as if it were trying to escape, sacrificing my body in its place as it retreated into memories of last weekend when I’d eaten a particularly delicious chocolate croissant at a bakery down thestreet from my apartment. Why I thought of that in a moment like this, I wasn’t sure, but I could almost taste the chocolate.
My dreamlike trance snapped, my body erupting with adrenaline as voices sounded and footsteps cluttered across the driveway. Men—lots of them, some of them speaking in Italian—surrounded the van. The van creaked and trembled as several people got inside. No one spoke to me or touched me. The van started moving, and I found myself bouncing along at a high speed through the night with no idea where I was going or why. My thoughts raced as quickly as the asphalt passed under our tires.
How was this all going to end for me?
An hour passed, maybe longer, I wasn’t sure, but the van rolled to a stop and everyone started moving again. I bit my tongue to stop myself from asking for someone to take the bag off my head. Soon enough, a firm hand took hold of my upper arm and led me out of the van. A voice that didn’t belong to Killian warned me about the step down from the vehicle onto gravel. I moved gingerly, and the stranger holding on to me didn’t rush me. He led me forward and inside. It smelled like wood polish.
“The girl wants to talk,” someone announced nearby.
I gasped when all at once the bag came off my head and sunlight poured into my pupils. I blinked, taking a quick look around at the unfamiliar space. Then my gaze settled on Killian, who stood near a window trimmed with dark mahogany, the first light of day fanning over his broad shoulders and chest and casting shadows over the sharp planes of his face.
His eyes bored holes right through me.
“Tommaso,” he said, not breaking from my gaze. “Take her to her room.”
Killian’s eyes shifted from mine and settled on a different man, this one younger than himself, handsome, but a bit boyishin his characteristics. The two of them exchanged a look I couldn’t quite decipher, but the wry, tight-lipped smile that touched Killian’s mouth for a fraction of a second left a chill of unease snaking down my spine.
Tommaso stepped toward me, looking me up and down before taking me by the arm and leading me away.
I knew two things.
One, another woman was a captive here, much like myself.
And two, Killian Ricci had just killed another Boss and started a war… overme.
But why?
CHAPTER 12
SERA
Tommaso spoke with kindness that made me instantly suspicious. “Your wrists look a bit rough. Infected, maybe. I’ll send someone upstairs to take a look at you.”
I said nothing as he led me up a wide staircase that branched off into two separate wings of the enormous, echoing mansion decorated in dark wood and rich, gray and emerald tile.
