Page 51 of Ms. Fortune

I have to make this quick. If I draw this out, it will only make it worse. I need to treat this like a bandage and rip it off quickly, or it will only hurt more. But I can’t bring myself to let go. I need to take in every bit of her, the silk and scent of her hair, the smoothness of her skin, and even the sorrow and pain in her eyes. I need to memorize everything about her. I don’t want to forget a single thing while we’re apart. Regardless of what happens next for either of us, this moment of us together is now etched in my memory.

“Normandy.” I pull back slightly to get a better look at her, and I almost say those three little words that I can’t get out of my head. I catch those dangerous syllables in my throat before I can vocalize them, and I just stare at her like an idiot. I want to say it, and I don’t know why I can’t. So, I say what I think might be the next best thing. “It will be okay. I promise.”

Her dark eyes, full of sadness and fear, search mine, and I do my best to show the confidence I’m trying to feel. If anything, I know my determination must shine through because I’ve got tons of that. I’m resolved to see this through, no matter what I have to do.

“Come back to me as soon as you can.” Her voice is small, weak, strained from her tears, and punches me right in the fucking heart. Her words only emphasize the fact that I’m abandoning her at this crucial moment. Abandoning her. There’s no other way to put it. I’m basically leaving her on her own to deal with all of this by herself.

I frame her face with my hands, kiss her deeply, and show her how I feel about her without saying the words. When I pull away, I turn quickly to get into the waiting car because I can’t stand seeing the hurt in her eyes for another second.

I’m a fucking coward.

I’m glad I didn’t tell her I love her. I don’t deserve to.

Chapter 34

WARFLOWER

NORMANDY

A hand clamped over my mouth wakes me from my nightmare, and I have to double-check that I’m awake and not just in another bad dream, as happens sometimes. Cold metal presses hard against the back of my neck, and I know for sure that I’m awake. What the hell is happening?

“Nice and easy, now,” a low voice hisses into my ear, sending a lightning strike of terror through me. “Slow and steady wins the race, and silence keeps you alive.” The hand covering my mouth releases, and I’m roughly pulled out of the bed and shoved toward the exterior doors to the backyard. I try to open the door, but it’s locked, and I have to fumble around to get it open. What I can only assume is a gun digs into the nape of my neck, causing my fingers to shake and falter even more.

Once it’s open, I’m pushed into the cold night and almost lose my balance, but the strong hand again grabs my arm, keeping me steady and moving along the back of the house. I’m tempted to turn to see who the hand belongs to and if it’s Frank, but the pressure on my neck tells me that’s not a great idea.

I’m only wearing a tank top and pajama bottoms, and the night is freezing. My bare feet on the cold concrete of the patio are only further confirmation that it’s still winter. The shivering starts with my teeth and travels through my whole body. It’s not just the weather making me shake; I’m terrified. Where is Brandon’s security?

This is not how any of this was supposed to go. This isn’t the plan. I am only mentally prepared for this to happen tomorrow at work, not at Brandon's home in the middle of the night. A place that was supposed to be safe and secure. Chelsie. Oh my God, I hope she’s alright. If whoever this is got through security to get to me, they could get to her too. I want to run and check on her, but I’m too scared to do anything but concentrate on not tripping over my frozen feet.

As we reach the end of the house, I’m held back with fingers digging into my arm painfully to stay in the shadows, but I’m kept facing forward so as not to see whoever is pushing me around. The sound of a car engine sparking to life nearby grabs my attention, and soon that car is pulling in front of us.

My instincts are screaming at me to run or yell for help, punch or kick the person behind me, but I can’t do any of it. I know the assignment, and as much as I hate all of this, I need to play my part. This is to catch and punish Louie Calnetta for killing my father. He needs to pay, and if this is how it happens, then I’ve got to do it. That means I need to ignore every cell in my being that is mounting a revolution against this plan. Fight or flight options aren’t viable, so I’m trying desperately to suppress those urges.

The dark car stops, and as the back door opens, sudden sharp pain in the back of my head causes my vision to flash bright white for a split second before I crash to the ground. The side of my face hits the hard concrete driveway with a crack that reverberates through my bones. Before total blackness takes me, I see another pair of eyes staring back at me, though I can tell they are long from seeing anything. They are dead. Randall.

The smell hits me before anything else, and I barely keep from vomiting when I come to. Taking stock of myself, my skull feels like it’s been cracked open with an ax, and I swear I can feel my head bleeding. Whoever hit me to knock me out did a damn good job. My wrists and ankles are tied to the arms of a wooden chair so tightly I can barely feel my hands and feet. My mouth is dry, but there’s no gag, at least.

I don’t hear anything or anyone around me, so I force myself to open my eyes. The first thing I see is an obnoxious carpet, but it doesn’t give me any clue where I am. Vegas is the gaudy carpet capital of the world, so I could be anywhere. As my gaze lifts, it catches on a stain on the carpet, dark and brown. And then I see him, eyes held open by death, a small hole in his forehead. Frank. It’s Frank Santangelo, and he’s dead on the floor next to me.

There’s no time for me to react as the door to the room I’m in flies open, and two men walk in. They’re both young. A lot younger than I expected anyone involved in this to be. They can’t be much older than me, if at all.

“Ah, sleeping beauty is finally awake,” the taller one says, falling into a chair across from me. His dark hair is curly, and he’s dressed like he’s about to head to the gym. Since their features are similar, his companion could be his brother or some kind of relative. They have the same hooked nose and olive skin. That one looks nervous, and it makes me even more nervous. I’m already freaking out with a dead body on the floor next to me but haven’t had time to process that fact yet.

“We really should wait…” the jumpy one says quietly, avoiding looking at the body next to my chair like I am.

“I’m tired of waiting. We need to get this show on the road.” He eyes me up and down, and my skin crawls under his stare. “Things need to start moving already.”

I try not to look directly at either of them, not wanting to provoke any interaction whatsoever. I shut my eyes tightly, then reopen them to find that this is, unfortunately, all too real. My thoughts are jumbled, and the terror flooding through me makes all of this seem like a nightmare. I wish I were still asleep in Brandon’s bed, and I’ll wake up any minute now, and this will all have been a bad dream.

He must notice my attempt at disbelief. “Oh, don’t worry, darling, this is real. Probably not what you were expecting, though, is it?” He kicks at Frank’s foot, making the body move unnaturally. I have to tear my eyes away. “You thought good old Frankie-boy was with the Feds, didn’t you? He was going to make this easy for you, huh? Well, he made it easy for us, anyway.” He leaves his chair and steps behind me where I can’t see what he’s doing, and my spine stiffens as I sense him lean closer. “We don’t do things the easy way here. No, we like things hard. Frank was trying to loosen your ropes, which also isn’t how we do things here. He thought he could take all the credit for this score but fuck him.” A hand grabs my hair and yanks my head back, and I can’t help but gasp at the shock of it. And now there’s cold metal against my neck, sliding up my throat and stopping just under my chin. I don’t think it’s a gun this time.

“Vinny. Dad’s gonna….” The other guy sounds almost as scared as I am right now, though I highly doubt that to be the case.

“What? What’s daddy gonna do?” he chides, and his nostrils flare, but he doesn’t look up. He keeps his eyes on me, watching my reaction. Almost like he’s getting off on my fear.

The smell of his cheap cologne mixed with stale coffee hits me, and I almost gag. Again, the bile rises in my throat, but I force it down, careful not to move too much. My mind plays movies of me dead on the floor next to Frank. I don’t know how long I was unconscious, but it still feels like everything is moving way too fast. My brain can’t catch up between my fear and what’s happening. The pounding of my heart is so hard I can feel it pulse against the blade at my neck.

I noticed no windows in this room, so I have no idea what time it is. I could have been out for hours, and I’m not clear what time it was when they took me from Brandon’s house either. All I know is it was dark. Not helpful at all.

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