Page 63 of His Captive
“What?” Sarah’s eyes get wide. “Are you serious?”
I break down in tears again. I try to fight them off, but they won’t stop, and I end up sobbing incoherently.
“Lea, did he hurt you? If he did, I’ll be on the next plane!” Sarah says angrily, her tone getting more urgent by the word. “What happened, Lea?”
“I messed up, Sarah,” I cry. “I messed up bad. I… I should have stayed away from him, but I couldn’t. He’s… he’s incredible.”
“Lea. Did you… did yousleepwith him?” Sarah asks frantically.
“Yes,” I sniffle. “But that’s not why I’m upset.”
Sarah and I have shared every single detail about our lives since we were children. We don’t keep secrets from each other. I know I shouldn’t talk about what happened with Massimo, but I can’t stop myself. The tears open the blabbering floodgates, and I tell hereverything. About the hit. About Massimo’s brother. About our wonderful time together… even the part about falling in the water. I leave out the intimate details, but I share way more than I should.
“Oh sweet mercy, Lea. Oh sweet mercy…” Sarah mutters her favorite expression. It usually makes me laugh, but today, I just stare at the screen in a daze.
“Y-you can’t use any of this on your p-podcast,” I stammer out. “Best friend vault. It has to stay there. You could be in serious danger if you talk about any of this.”
“I won’t use any of it. I swear,” Sarah says. “But I should probably show you where I am right now.”
I blink away my tears as Sarah walks to a window. I don’t recognize the room she’s in. It isn’t her bedroom. But as soon as she tilts her screen and I see the Las Vegas skyline, my blood runs cold, and all my sorrow gets replaced with bone-chilling concern.
“Sarah, what the hell are you doing in Las Vegas?” I gasp.
“I told you I’ve been looking into the Morandi Crime Family and the Dirty Vegas Mafia,” she says hesitantly. “I’m in Las Vegas to meet with someone who might have some information Icanuse on my podcast.”
“You can’t, Sarah!” I say hurriedly. “I’m serious! Massimo’s family is dangerous! I just told you what his brother is going to do! If he’ll kill Massimo, what do you think he’ll do to a podcaster who talks about his family?”
“Well, I didn’t know any of that before I came to Las Vegas!” Sarah mutters, her voice cracking. “I’ll meet with Cadence and then I’ll go home.”
“And you’re not going to do a podcast about them, right? Promise me, Sarah,” I say. “I’m sorry if you wasted your time and drove all the way to Las Vegas, but this is too dangerous.”
“Yeah, I’ll forget about doing a podcast on them,” Sarah relents. “But you have to promise you’ll be careful. It can’t be any less dangerous for you, hanging around some Mafia guy who is about to get killed!”
“I won’t be there when that happens,” I sigh, looking down. “Text me when you leave Las Vegas and again when you get home. I may not be able to respond immediately, but I need to know you’re safe.”
“I will,” Sarah promises. “And you better try to reply, or else I’ll drive straight to the airport instead of going home. I’ll come get you and drag you on the boat by your ear like your grandmother used to when you really pissed her off!”
“I’ll do my best.” I swallow hard.
I feel even worse after talking to Sarah, and she always makes me feel better. I’m glad I called, but I’m worried about her now, too. I didn’t tell her to keep investigating Massimo’s family or go to Las Vegas, yet I still feel responsible. If something happens to her, I don’t know what I’ll do. She’s literally the only person I will have left after I leave this island.
“Grandma,” I whisper, my eyes glancing toward the ceiling. “You said a piece of your spirit never left this island. If that’s true… I need you. Maybe more than ever.”
I’m grasping at straws. Talking to spirits, even though I’m not sure I even believe in life after death.
Even if a part of my grandmother’s spirit is still here, she can’t help. Sarah certainly can’t. Nobody can.
I need a miracle.
CHAPTER 27
Massimo
I’m sitting in a small office Theo let me use.
A glass of whiskey is to my right and a cigar is smoldering in the ashtray next to it.
The computer screen finally lights up and a woman’s smiling face appears. Jillian Morris. She’s my attorney for private matters, when I don’t want to use someone associated with my family. She’s not the best, but she’s effective, and thanks to some trouble I saved her from a while back, she owes me her life. That means she won’t discuss anything with anyone, and that goes well beyond lawyer-client privilege.
