Page 52 of Ms. Fortune

“We’re going to give your boyfriend a call now. Get this ball rolling. Okay, sweetheart?” I’d cringe at the term of endearment if I didn’t think he’d kill me for it. He pulls a phone out of his pants pocket with his free hand and dials a number while pressing the blade against my neck with the other. I assume he’s calling Brandon. After what seems like forever, he must answer, but I only hear one side of the conversation. “Brandon Carmichael? No? Who is this, then? Well, Taylor, I need to talk to your boss. Pronto…. What do you mean he can’t come to the phone? He does understand what’s happening here, doesn’t he?” He presses the metal harder, and I do my best not to make any noise but can’t help a slight yelp of pain as the sharp edge digs in, breaking the skin. “Well, I don’t care if he’s having tea with the god damned Queen of England; here’s what he’s going to do if he wants to see Ms. Blake alive again…. I don’t give a shit what he’s doing. I think this is a little more important to him, don’t you?” He pauses, listening to Taylor again for a minute, but he's growing more irritable by the second, the more he listens. “Anyway. Yada yada yada. Ten million. By 4:00, when the banks close. You’ll get a text with the account numbers. If all goes well, you’ll get another text with where to pick up your princess. If I don’t have confirmation by 4:01, you’ll get a call so you can watch her head being blown off. Understand?” He pauses again with a heavy sigh, growing impatient. “Like I said, I don’t give a flying fuckity fuck if he’s making fucking snowmen with the President on the White House lawn. Alright? 4:00.”

He disconnects the call and finally lifts the blade from my neck. I can feel blood trickling slowly down my skin, and I catch the other guy staring at it. He’s gone pale, and his eyes blink rapidly like he might faint. I think I might pass out right along with him.

The one named Vinny brushes past him and out the door. I guess he’s done with me for now. “C’mon, Max. We’ve got a few last rides before we’re millionaires.”

Max halts in the doorway on his way out and glances back at me. I can’t tell for sure, but I think I see pity in his eyes. His sympathy isn’t going to help me. He doesn’t say anything and shuts the door.

It sounded like there might be a problem with Taylor and Brandon, and I don’t know what it could be. We didn’t really discuss the possibility of anything going wrong. Brandon was adamant that everything would be fine, regardless of him being in New York. I’m realizing now that I was an idiot to believe him. I’m also surprised that I’m not a crying mess right now. I think I’m too frightened to cry. Too terrified. The only thing I can think of is telling myself not to look down at Frank’s dead body on the floor next to me.

I start truly studying my bindings, which are becoming extremely painful as they dig into my skin. It’s a coarse rope, not smooth, so it’s uncomfortable. I also realize that the entire left side of my face and shoulder hurts. I think I must have fallen when I was knocked out, but I'll be happy if that’s the worst of my injuries. Wait, I did fall, and I saw Randall. Or did I imagine that?

The shock of everything is still running through me, and I’m not thinking straight. It’s like I’m not feeling something I should be feeling, though I can’t imagine what else to feel besides being frightened. I’m definitely frightened. No FBI is coming to save me and arrest these guys. That was all a setup. I have no rescue on the way. I am totally on my own. And with Vinny's argument with Taylor, I’m now worried that something will go wrong with the ransom. What am I going to do if something goes wrong?

Dear God, please let this go smoothly because I don’t know what the hell to do if it doesn’t.

Chapter 35

MY HEART

BRANDON

I spend the morning answering questions about my relationship with Eve Cromwell, as I figured would be the case. However, about halfway through the morning, the questions take a turn toward the weird, and I’m not sure what to make of it. The prosecutor is a no-holds-barred attorney who doesn’t dance around what she’s trying to find out. I'd admire her professionalism if I weren’t so preoccupied with what’s happening in Vegas right now.

“Mr. Carmichael, do you recall Eve ever talking about the Mamana family?”

I take a minute to consider my answer. The question seems to come from out of nowhere and is a complete direction change from her last question. I’m trying hard not to give away that I’m stunned to hear the name Mamana in this line of questioning. Frank mentioned that Louie was trying to buy his way into their family. What the hell would Eve have to do with them now too?

“The name sounds familiar.” It’s not a lie.

“Well, you know the Mamana family owns the Bliss casino, don’t you?”

“Yes, I believe I knew that.” Again, not a lie.

“Are you aware they’ve started buying property here in New York?”

Jesus. Get to the point already. “Yes, I think I’ve heard that.” Still not lying.

“Do you know Giuseppe Mamana?”

“No. I do not.”

“Do you know of him?”

“No.”

“Were you aware that Eve Cromwell and Giuseppe Mamana were married in Sicily in 2017?”

I’m stunned, and I think the jury is, too, since there’s an electricity-filled shock spreading through the room. Eve was married the whole time she was with me? To one of the Mamana family? What the hell?

“Mr. Carmichael? Were you or were you not aware of Eve’s marriage to Giuseppe Mamana?”

I snap out of my stupor. “No. I was not aware of that.” Why would she even bother with me? She didn’t get anything out of the relationship I can think of that would have benefited her. How could I not know that? And why did this prosecutor wait all morning to bring this up?

As I answer, the prosecutor studies me closely, but I know better than to perjure myself.

“Did you know they remained married during your relationship with Eve?”

Why do I feel like I’m the one being prosecuted here? I know that’s not the case, but it sure as hell feels like it. These revelations, while shocking, don’t mean a damned thing to me. And she’s asking them in a way to almost provoke me into anger. What I’m getting angry about, or angrier is more like it, is that I even have to be here in the first place. There are more important things going on in my life than the fact that Eve had and has a husband. I couldn’t care less.

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