“No.” I shake my head, burning with a fury that is vehement and immovable.
“No?” He raises his brows, and I lower mine, not breaking eye contact with his sharp blue eyes, electric with the vengeance of a million men. He crosses his pale fingers over his chest, looking over to Riggs.
“Get her on our plane within the hour, or you’re all dead.”
“Nikolai, I don’t think she will—” He begins, but Nikolai cuts him off with a shout so loud I have to force my hands deeper into my pockets so as not to cover my ears.
“I DON’T CARE HOW YOU GET HER TO COOPERATE, JUST FUCKING MAKE IT HAPPEN, OR YOU’RE ALL DYING A SLOW AND PAINFUL DEATH.” He quickly stands, leaving everyone in the room utterly speechless. I feel the tears welling in my eyes because I can’t imagine what threats will be thrown my way if I don’t do what they want. Killing Tito is not an option. Even if he hates me, I cannot bring myself to hate him. My entire body has been aching like I’m sick since the moment Tito walked away from me. I never knew I needed him. Never knew how badly I wanted him. Never got the chance to tell him that there’s something far more powerful between us than common interest and great sex.
Did he feel it too? Would he listen to me if I tried to warn him?
Tito will be gone by morning. There’s no way I’ll catch him before then, and even if I do, he won’t want to talk to me. I can tell by the way we left things that he plans to never see me again. And I plan on the same, considering how badly it hurts to see that look in his eyes.
“You’ll get on that plane, and you will do everything we instruct you to do, or we will kill every member of that family and your own.” Riggs threatens. Now he’s bringing my family into this?
“Go to hell.” I spit in his face as his men drag me outside. I don’t look back as they whip me around, kicking my heels, so I pick up the pace until we’re outside. One of the guys, tall and round, opens the back door of the vehicle they brought me in. He shoves me into the back seat with such force that I nearly hit my head on the other side of the car. Luckily, I stop myself with my hands, and they close the door before I can try to escape.
Even if I did escape, what would that do to everyone I care about? I’m stuck in this. And the only thing I can do now is play as nicely as possible, hoping I can sneak away at just the right time to warn Tito.
Riggs opens the car door before we start moving, and I’m surprised by his abrasive instance as he crawls into the car. I don’t notice the syringe of dark purple liquid until it’s too late, and he plunges it into my neck. The sharp pain is the last thing I remember before waking up in a hotel room. I’m laying on a hard carpet, pressed against a window, as chatter carries on in the background. My vision is blurry for a bit as I blink at the warm skies, bursting with reds and pinks, purples, and dark blues. That’s when I see the ocean, the choppy waves and cobblestone streets, and a building right next to mine that has something written on it in Italian.
“Good morning, Scout.” A strange and unfamiliar voice calls to me as boots step right next to my weak body.
“Where are we?” is all I can slur out as my hands turn me onto my back. A man with a thick beard and eyelashes looks down at me. His rounded face and equally round aqua eyes observe me with a confusing expression.
“Dan, leave her alone.” Someone else calls a woman this time.
“She’s still pretty out of it.”
“Leave her alone.” She insists, and I understand what might happen if he chooses not to listen. I brace myself for whatever it is, and then I hear the hard smack of skin and bone. When I open my eyes, Dan’s knocked out on the floor, and a woman with a pixie cut and black eyes reaches down to me. I grab her hand, surmised by the way my limbs are coming back to life.
“You’re the distraction for Tito, right?” Her gruff voice asks as she pulls me over to a bar on the back wall. How much money does one need to get their own bar in their hotel room? I rub my eyes, letting everyone speak at me, but not fully comprehending what’s being said.
“Just give her time.” The woman shuts all the men up and takes a deep breath to thank her, but I am still not able to fully form the words.
“Cleo, she’s got to be ready in less than an hour to talk to the San Giovanni idiot. How the hell is that going to happen when she’s still so out of it?”
“Just shut up and eat your breakfast,” Cleo responds. I feel more confident in my plan that's now coming back to me. Not because I’ve gotten cocky in any of my abilities, but because I think someone like Cleo is going to trust me to a fault. She’s not dumb, but she seems to have a side to her, one that gets this whole shit-show, is mad. And I could be wrong, could be whacked out on whatever shit they injected into me. But I can’t lose hope.
After everyone is done with breakfast and I feel more cognizant, Cleo helps me up and walks me to the door. She shoos the men away as they begin to ask questions to me again and hands me a napkin.
“Thanks?” I take it, and she rolls her eyes.
“It’s Tito’s hotel room. Go there and convince him to let you come with him. Apologize, do something. Whatever it takes. We’ll do our thing, follow you up there with the bomb.” I respect her no-nonsense, but hate every word coming out of her mouth.
I glance over at the men surrounding us now. All of them look at me with bloodlust in their beady eyes. I glance back at Cleo once more before turning towards the door. She grabs my wrist tightly before I can grab the handle, and I look back at her dark expression.
“If you even think about double-crossing us, we will kill your entire family, just as Riggs said. Just as the boss said, too. Don’t fuck it up.” She growls, baring her teeth as she tightens her grip on my wrist. I take it back, what I thought about her. She’s just as sadistic and twisted as the rest of these monsters. I nod once out of fear and growing pain in my wrist.
When she lets go, I stumble forward, grabbing the handle and quickly rushing out of the room. I open the napkin as I head to an elevator at the end of the hall.
“Tenth floor, suite 1110”, it says. I pick up the pace, and the elevator doors open just as I near them. I almost run into an old man wearing all plaid, who is completely shocked by my presence.
“Sorry,” I mumble as he says something in Italian under his breath. I bite my lip as the doors close and press the button for the tenth floor. There are no stops on the way there, and I rise to the level, stepping out with a quickening heartbeat and clumsy steps.
I read each door until I’m at the end of the hall, and then I see it. Suite 1110, right beside a tall window, overlooking the docs and a small portion of this tiny hillside town. That’s how it feels, anyway. It would have been cool to come here under other pretenses. Still, given the situation I’m in, this is no time to admire the landscape of Southern Italy.
With a shaky hand, I raise my fist and knock three times. After swallowing the food from breakfast, creeping back up my throat, the door swings open.