Page 44 of His Captive
Massimo takes me to the same Jeep we used yesterday. He puts his Glock in the basket before getting behind the wheel. We leave the resort, taking a right, and drive toward the dock, but when we pass the one we arrived at, I glance at him with concern.
“Where are we going, exactly?” I question.
“The resort has a private marina down the beach,” he explains. “We’re going to take a yacht out to where the dolphins swim, and after you get to see how boring they are, we’ll meet the other boat so you can see the predators.”
I steady my concern over the sharks before replying,” “A yacht?” I raise my brow. “If you had access to a yacht, why were you on the ferry? Why not have someone pick you up?”
“That’s what I usually do, for safety reasons. This time was different. What’s the point of safety when you already know you’re going to die? I didn’t even let my bodyguard come with me.” He shrugs, almost dismissively.
“Youneed a bodyguard?” I ask, my brow raising higher.
“Need one? No,” he says. “But my father insists, and as long as he sits at the head of the table, people do what he says. My bodyguard’s name is Rowan O’Malley. He’s the meanest motherfucker to ever put on a kilt.”
“Wait, is he Scottish? I thought all Mafia guys were Italian, or whatever.” I tilt my head inquisitively. My knowledge is limited to what Sarah has told me, but I rememberfull-blooded Italianbeing important.
“Used to be, yeah,” he replies. “Couldn’t be a made man unless you were. My family values the old ways, but we’ve had to make some exceptions over the years. Marriages—not everyone falls in love with an Italian girl. My father didn’t arrange marriages for his kids, like my grandfather did. Neither did my uncle. The Morandi family is very diverse these days.”
“Sounds like it,” I comment, taking it all in. “You even have a priest.”
“He doesn’t really associate with the family anymore,” Massimo chuckles. “He shows up for weddings, family holidays, and funerals. Sometimes he officiates them, depending on who it is. Other than that, he does his thing, and we do ours.”
“How did that happen anyway?” I ask. “Did he not want to… be in the Mafia?”
“He used to be just like me until he fell in love,” Massimo sighs. “He started questioning everything when his girlfriend got sick, and he turned to a power higher than our father. She didn’t make it, unfortunately. It was… awful. I think God was all he had left after she died. I guess it’s a better option than poison.”
“Oh, goodness, I’m so sorry.” I wince, looking away for a moment. “You guys don’t have the best luck when it comes to women.”
“No,” he relents. “Except for Emilio. His wife has been by his side since he was sixteen. They got married right out of high school because she was pregnant. She’s a bit bossy, but Emilio seems to need that. Well… he used to. I guess he’s ready to be his own boss now.”
“You talk about him so casually. I don’t even know him, and I hate him,” I mutter, shaking my head.
“I’m not excited about what he’s doing, but I get it,” Massimo sighs. “I’ve been in a dark place for a long time. I’m sure he doesn’t think I’m fit to lead the family. Part of him probably thinks he’s making the right decision, and deep down, I have a hard time disagreeing. I’ve been a fucking mess, Lea.”
“For good reason!” I fire back, my nostrils flaring. “Your wife was murdered! What did he expect? Were you supposed to shrug it off and pretend it didn’t happen because you killed the guys who did it?”
“In our world, you learn to shrug off a lot,” he grunts, then he motions ahead. “There’s the marina.”
I don’t want to let it go, but Massimo seems done with the conversation, so I don’t push back. I look in the direction he’s pointing and see a dock that is much nicer than the one we arrived at. There are several luxurious-looking boats parked along the side. I assume they’re yachts. I’ve never seen one before, except on television. Massimo pulls up to the smallest one and opens his door.
“I’d take you out on one of the bigger yachts, but then we’d need a crew. At least one other person who knows how to operate it.” He gestures to the smaller boat. “So, the mini-yacht will have to do.”
“I’ve never been on a yacht, period, so I’m still impressed.” I get a good look at the mini-yacht while Massimo walks around and opens my door. It looks more like a fancy speedboat, but the top is mostly enclosed in glass.
“Come on,bambina,” Massimo says, helping me out of the Jeep.
Massimo gathers everything. This time, he doesn’t leave the knives, rope, or shotgun in the Jeep. He wraps the shotgun in a quilt. I decline when he offers it to me.
“I’m not carrying that!” I say, shaking my head.
“Fine, but at least put a knife in your purse,” he urges, slipping one in that is sheathed and has a cherry-wood handle. “Just to be safe.”
I glance at it nervously, but nod. I’m not sure I’d know how to use it, and I really hope I never have to. I stack some towels on the cooler and pick it up, following behind Massimo.
“If you’re going to spend much time in the sun, you’ll need some sunscreen,” Massimo comments as we walk along the dock. “I’ve got some in the basket for you.”
“I was fine yesterday.” I shrug.
“It’s different when you’re on the water,” he says. “And there are no clouds today. That delicate skin will be burnt to a crisp if you’re not careful.”
