Page 15 of His Captive
He starts walking toward the hotel and I’m frozen where I’m standing. Part of me wants to rush after him. Part of me wants to run away. I’ve never felt so conflicted. Every rational thought says I should not only run, but pack my bags, and see if I can still make it to the boat before it leaves tonight. Why am I hesitating? Why are my feet shuffling forward? Why is the wordwaitforming on my tongue? I bite thewto stop myself from calling out like some desperate girl who just got left wanting so much more than hisgoodnight.
“This is… ridiculous,” I mutter under my breath. “Why do I feel this way?”
I stumble forward on my heels, trying to will my feet to go in the opposite direction. Everything about this is wrong. I had dinner with Massimo. I let him down gently. He’s not going to comechasing after me. So why am I chasing after him? Why is the scent of his cologne a vapor trail I’m following in a daze?
He’s still quite a ways ahead of me when I walk into the hotel. I need to turn around. Anything that happens from this point forward ismyfault. I can’t blame it on the promise I made or thinking he’s a great guy with a few too many tattoos.
I’m so conflicted, I don’t know what to do. I hesitate. I squeeze my eyes shut and walk after him, my pace quickening. What am I even going to say? Just when I’m about to force myself to choose, his cell phone rings. He stops dead in his tracks, pulls it out of his jacket, and answers. He glances over his shoulder and I dash around the corner I just came from before he can see me.
“Is this about the hit?” Massimo asks.
The hit? Oh, my god!Mafia, Mafia. Like the kind who doesn’t even kill people himself. He pays someone, or just orders them to kill people.
“Yeah, I don’t like the way that sounds either.” Massimo’s footsteps echo and he’s moving.
I can’t hear what he’s saying, so I let out a breath of relief. Then my duty as Sarah’s best friend zaps me like I’m hearing her voice telepathically, telling me to follow the Mafia prince, because thatsurelycan’t go wrong.
“No, I’m not going to listen. No…” My hand is already in my purse. I pull out my phone, take a deep breath, and hit record. “If I die tonight because of this… what the hell am I doing?”
I groan and shuffle around the corner. I creep against the wall and around a few plants until I hear his voice again.
“The arrangements have been made,” Massimo growls. “You got the money, right?”
A hit? Arrangements? Money? Yeah, this is likehe-will-kill-meterritory. I end the recording, fire it to Sarah in a text, and start recording again.
“No, nothing else,” Massimo says. “Goodnight.”
Oh crap, oh crap. He’s walking back this way. I take a few steps back, and as I spin around, I trip over a plant I forgot was right behind me.
“Ah!” I squeal as I tumble forward, drop my phone, and see the carpet rising up to meet my face. I throw one arm out, and then a firm hand grabs my other one. My purse dangles on my arm and I manage to catch it before it hits the floor.
“I’ve got you,bambina,” Massimo says, hauling me back onto my heels and steadying me with both hands. Then his gaze drifts to my phone. “I’ll get that for you.”
I freeze on wobbly knees. There is absolutely no way to explain why I’m standing right here. No way to hide the fact I just overheard him say something that would land him in prison.
Massimo holds me steady with one hand and leans over to retrieve my phone. It’s face down. My stomach does a somersault as he flips it in his hand and I see the recorder still going. Massimo presses his finger on it and meets my terrified stare. I just made the worst mistake of my life. A series of them. I’d be the girl the audience yells at in the horror movie.
“You followed me?” he asks, his eyes flickering like icy embers connecting dots that I don’t want him to connect. “You recordedme?” He looks down at my phone, and swipes his finger across it, showing the text message to Sarah. “Why?”
Why? Yes, why? That’s the question he should be asking. That’s the question I should already have an answer to. Uh, okay. Feminine charm? You’ve never worked for me before, but—I did actually follow him for a different reason than recording him talking about a hit.
“I, um, didn’t want to be alone tonight,” I whisper, like I don’t spend every single night alone. Like my bed hasn’t been ice cold on that side every day of my life. I tremble harder, and he can feel it, because his hand is holding my arm.
“Don’t lie to me,bambina,” he growls, flicking his finger on the messages to Sarah and reading them.
Feminine charm was not the right way to go.
Massimo doesn’t listen to the recording, but there’s enough in those text messages to sign my death warrant. I’ll be on Sarah’s podcast, alright. I’ll be the star of the show. I look around desperately. I’m in a hallway and it’s completely deserted. It actually looks like they’re doing renovations ahead, because that part is closed off. Which means there’s absolutely no reason foranyoneto come down this hallway—unless they wanted to talk about something in private.
“So, you think you know who I am,” Massimo rumbles, looking up from my phone. “But you didn’t on the boat, did you?”
“N-no,” I squeak out.
He nods like he’s considering something, clicking his tongue. His grip on my arm tightens and I wince.
“How did you find out? Did someone approach you?” He narrows his eyes, staring into my soul again. I don’t feel like I’m staring into his. I don’t think he has one. “Tell me,bambina. If you know who I am, then you damn sure know this isn’t the time for silence. Unless you’d like me to get answers out of you another way.”
Tears well up in my eyes, then stream down my face. I shake my head desperately. “N-no,” I squeak again, my entire body clenching. “Please don’t kill me. My friend really likes true crime. She has a podcast. And a wall… a Mafia wall. Modern day mobsters, you know. I saw your picture on her wall and I didn’t realize why you looked familiar until I got to the hotel. That’s all there is! Other than what you read!”
