Page 19 of Taken By the Mafia King
The maid frowned and clicked her tongue when she spotted the charcuterie board sitting on the dresser. She moved over to it, her skirt rustling with every step. “You didn’t eat. No bother. I’ll have something else sent up for you. You need to eat with the medication, even if it’s just a bit of milk. Okay?”
“I will,” I said, only agreeing with her to get her out of the room so I could make another desperate call.
She smiled and set the pill bottle on the table next to the door, then slipped out, the lock clicking into place behind her as she shut the door. The girl seemed nice enough, but I had things to do.
I let out my breath in a whoosh, feeling somewhat lightheaded as I turned and covered the doorknob to the study with my hand. My stupidity at the moment was unforgivable. I was at risk of a lot more than losing my life at this point. Killian could cut my hands off for even touching the phone. He could slide a knife through my ears until I could hear nothing but blood. Or sew my lips together, preventing me from ever calling for help again.
The man had committed far, far worse atrocities.
Nevertheless, I walked back into the study.
Not knowing anyone else’s number by heart, I thought back on the moment I had been kidnapped, trying to remember if I’d managed to toss my purse in the car in my haste to get inside. I couldn’t remember.
Sighing, I shakily dialed my own phone number.
“Oh my GOD,” Emma’s voice cracked over the receiver, the pain and terror in her voice bringing me to my knees. I sank to the carpet, curling my legs underneath me as I said her name. She sobbed, and so did I. “Where the fuck are you, Sera?”
“Listen,” I whispered, closing my eyes. “You can’t try to get the police to come after me?—”
“What? Sera, tell me where you are right now. Are you hurt?”
“Emma, please listen.”
“Jim saw you get stuffed into a van! He followed the vehicle for miles and called the police but they didn’t do anything. They told him to pull over and then questioned him like he had something to do with it. They even accused him of making it up!”
I swallowed, finding it hard to take a breath. Of course the police wouldn’t have done anything.
“He’s been talking to a private investigator, Sera. The cameras at the school were wiped clean. I’ve been screaming at the top of my lungs that you were kidnapped but no one is listening to me and I feel like I’m losing my mind.” A sob escapedher before she quickly collected herself. “It’s so good to hear your voice. Tell me how to get to you. I’ll call Jim.”
“I need you to listen to me, Emma,” I said with enough force that she immediately went silent. “You have to drop this.” Emma had no idea who I really was, who my family was. “Some shady people have me but I’m okay. Tell Jim that he needs to stop looking for me.” If I told her too much, she wouldn’t listen, and they’d both keep searching—which would get them killed.
“I can’t do that, Sera,” she sobbed. “Why can’t you leave? What happened?”
“I can’t say,” I said weakly. God, I was more than dead now if Killian found out about this call. Emma would be dead, too, if I didn’t play my cards carefully. “There’s someone I need you to find, okay? His name is Fred Bagnoli. He lives in East Philly. There’s a deli called Mike’s Meats on Renard Street, in the warehouse district. He’ll be there. Tell him—tell him I was taken to the auction.”
“The auction?” Her voice broke over the words and shattered what remained of my heart. I couldn’t tell her what happened there. She deserved to remain ignorant to the dark seediness that lurked below the surface of the city.
“Find him, and then drop this. He’ll know what to do and, Emma, please, tell him I’m asking him for protection for you, okay?”
“Protection for me?”
“Yeah,” I replied breathlessly. “He’ll know what to do. But don’t come looking for me. Don’t call the police and tell them I called, okay? Wipe my phone clean and wait. I’ll… I’ll try to come home but I can’t make any promises.”
“I’ve been watering your plants,” she whispered in a sob.
“Thank you,” I choked, unable to form any other words. “I have to go,” I continued after a moment. “Fred Bagnoli. Mike’s Meats. He won’t hurt you.” Fred, who’d loved me like agranddaughter for all of those years he’d worked for my father before he’d had enough and left the life behind.
I hung up before she could say anything else. Peeling myself off the carpet, I stumbled into the bedroom, my heart in pieces in my chest. Sunlight streamed through the windows, and for the first time in my life the warmth and sun crept over my skin and made me want to vomit. I ripped the curtains closed and screamed as loud as I possibly could, again and again, but not out of fear or desperation.
It was pure frustration. Anger. Injustice.
No one came to check on me. Maybe they were used to people screaming in this house.
I choked down an antibiotic dry, letting the bitter taste of it flood my mouth as I crawled into the bed and screamed into the pillow.
Then, by the grace of God, I slipped into a practical coma and slept for the first time in days.
CHAPTER 17
