Page 26 of Dirty Mafia Torment
“You’re giving up.”
“I’m being realistic.”
I shake my head, a bitter edge to my voice. “Then we want different things. Me? I want out of the Life. I want a shot at living my life.”
Lord, even my tone when I say the words “my life” sounds hopeless.
“So do it.”
I snort, incredulous. “Now who’s being unrealistic?”
He looks at me. Really looks at me. “Want to know what I’d do?”
Up ahead, a tumbleweed rolls adrift, carefree, until it snags on the roadside brush, leaving it to be ripped apart by a harsh, unforgiving world.
“Ruin myself?” I demand. “Fuck every Tom, Dick, and Giuseppe so a complete stranger I’ve yet to meet doesn’t get the virgin bride he paid for? Hope he’ll annul the wedding?” I make a face. “He’ll kill me. And if he doesn’t, my father will.”
“You’re a virgin?”
I blink. “That’s what you got out of all this?” Unbelievable.
“Trust me. Fucking your way to freedom’s overrated.”
I scowl. This is my future he’s callously joking about.
“You have a place in mind where you’d go? Abroad, preferably?”
“Yes.”
“And money?”
I shake my head.
“You’ve time to figure that part out.”
The tumbleweed I’ve been tracking breaks free from the brush as we speed by, and I’m suddenly lighter.
“When is your asshole father returning again?”
A flutter of excitement licks across me. “A few days.”
He smiles. “Let’s drive to Vegas.”
My jaw drops. “You’re going to marry me?”
He jerks back like I slapped him. “Marry? No fucking way.”
The thought deeply disturbs him, I can see it on his face. Lord, I feel like sinking between the springs in this seat.
“Jesus. Nothing personal. I’m not the marrying type, is all.”
“You said we’d go to Vegas,” I grind out. “What else would I think?”
“Look. Your father runs California. Vegas is Luca Ricci’s territory and a safer bet. I’ll find the best location where you can get what you need—bogus birth certificates, social security cards, and several passports.”
I immediately warm up to the idea. “Okay.”
“As for disappearing, follow the three Ds; dodge, distract, and delay.” He holds up a finger, mimicking my earlier actions. “Plant so many false leads your father’s head will spin.” A second finger joins the first. “Lay breadcrumbs for him to follow, far away from your actual escape route.” Finger number three rises. “Use decoys dressed like you. If you time everything out, there can be a Fina sighting in San Diego, then another on the Mexico border in thirty minutes.”
