Page 5 of Marrying the Mobster
Pérez lowers his pistol and takes a slow step in my direction. “Your material possessions mean nothing to me, Miss Aguilar. What I intend to take with me is far more valuable than that.”
Faster than I can blink, his empty hand closes around my upper arm. With a yelp, I stumble as he spins me and then yanks me into his chest, his arm wrapping around my throat.
A protest dies on my tongue when the barrel of his gun presses beneath my jaw. My father remains on his knees, shaking his head and watching the scene with open-mouthed horror.
“Mr. Aguilar, your daughter will be a guest in my home for thirty days. If you haven’t produced half of what you owe me by the end of that time, I’ll put a bullet in her skull.”
I grip Pérez’s forearm with shaking hands. Surely my father won’t let them take me from this house. He must realize once I’m out of his sight, we lose control of this situation.
“Dad,” I beg, shaking my head and blinking back tears. “There has to be another way.”
“There is no other way,” Pérez contradictions me. “Either she leaves with me now, or you both die.”
The tears begin to fall as I realize I’m fucked no matter what. Either decision places me firmly in the hands of this dangerous man.
“Elena,” my father croaks, giving his head a slow shake. “What else can I do?”
Rage overcomes my grief, and I lunge toward my dad, forgetting about the man holding me back. My feet come off the floor as Pérez’s other arm snakes around my waist.
“Man up anddo something!” I scream, kicking and flailing against Pérez’s unyielding hold. “You can’t force me to pay for your mistakes! It isn’t right! It isn’t fair!”
Wrestling me to my knees, Pérez wrangles both my hands and captures them behind my back. Pressing my wrists together, he puts weight on my lower back, forcing my forehead against the rug. My face heats up as I snort and huff into the carpet like a trapped animal.
“Promise you won’t hurt her,” my father pleads, his voice low and helpless.
“You have my word, no one will hurt her unless you fail to hold up your end of the bargain. If she tries to escape, she’ll be restrained with a necessary amount of force.”
I crane my neck to see my father, who won’t even look at me now. He’s wringing his hands and staring at the ceiling as if wrestling with his decision. The motherfucker. He’s already decided and we both know it.
“Take her.”
His words are like a physical blow. Only, instead of deflating me, they only ramp me up more. I buck and kick as Pérez pushes me flat on my belly and straddles my hips. His thighs are hard and impossibly strong, pinning me.
“Jovan!” he calls out.
The footsteps of Pérez’s partner thud on the carpet, and then he’s crouched beside me. A pitiful whine is all I can muster before the swift prick of a needle stings the side of my neck.
My limbs become heavy and useless within seconds, and the room starts to tilt and sway.
“What was that?” I hear my father ask in a startled, faraway voice. “You said you wouldn’t hurt her!”
“It’s just a little something to keep her from making a nuisance of herself during transport,” Jovan says.
Pérez’s weight leaves my back, but I can’t even twitch my little finger, let alone get to my feet. I flop like a rag doll as he lifts me effortlessly, throwing me over his shoulder.
The thick muscle bites into my stomach, making me feel like I’ll puke any second. There’s nothing I can do but stare at his pant leg, each of his strides making me dizzy.
“Thirty days, Santiago,” Jovan warns, his footsteps trailing behind us. “No excuses, no exceptions.”
The world around me starts to fade away, as if I’m sinking into a dark hole. The hallway lights are like pinpoints hundreds of miles away, and my mind feels detached from my body.
The two men are silent as they exit the house, and before long I register the humidity of the outside air. Stone and then pavement pass beneath me, and I whimper as I’m lifted and hauled into the backseat of the car. I can’t keep my eyes open, and my neck can no longer hold up my head. It lolls to the side as my body is cradled by soft, buttery leather, and the car sways from the slamming of doors.
And just like that, I’m riding away from life as I know it and a future that just slipped through my fingers like water.
A warm hand grips my chin and tilts my head up. I feel eyes on me and assume they belong to Pérez. He doesn’t strike me as one to drive himself around in what feels like a luxury vehicle.
I’m proven right when he speaks, his voice close and vibrating through me along with the rumble of the engine. “Drive.”
