Page 16 of Captivated with Them

I followed him down the stairs and through the wide corridor that led to the front of the house.

The other girls were held in this wing of the house as well, but I didn’t know which room. Were they being kept together, or apart? I experienced a twinge of jealousy at the idea of them getting to share a room. I loved Kodee, Dillon, and Ryan, but a part of me had missed female company. There was something special about the support women could give each other, even in the terrible circumstances we had found ourselves in.

Outside the front door, a car was already waiting. Frankie stood beside the open rear doors. He caught sight of me and nodded approvingly.

“Good to see you can look respectable.”

His words implied that I was anything but, and I clenched my fists and put my head down so he wouldn’t see my reaction. I hadn’t chosen this life. I’d been forced into it by my mother at an age where a girl should never have gone through what I had, and then been passed from man to man ever since. This was the only life I knew, but it wasn’t one I would have chosen for myself.

No, the life I would choose for myself now would be with Kodee and Ryan and Dillon. The four of us, together. Would that be considered respectable—one woman and three men? Probably not, but I discovered it didn’t even matter. I guess I cared less about what others thought of me than I’d first believed.

Frankie jerked his head toward the open car door. “Get in.”

I brushed past him and climbed into the back seat.

Otis slid into the passenger seat, and a man I assumed was Frankie’s driver got behind the wheel. Frankie rarely went anywhere without an entourage, though I didn’t know if that was to protect him from others, or others from him.

We drove through the city.

I peered out of the window, my stomach churning with nerves. What if I did or said something wrong when I was with the lawyer? It would only take the tiniest slipup for me to say something I shouldn’t. I was worried some crazy part of my brain would take over, and I’d end up blurting everything to the lawyer, telling him how I was being held against my will and that Frankie Capello was as guilty of as many, if not more, crimes than Joe Nettie.

But Ryan and Dillon had killed as well, and if I told part of the story about what I’d gone through, I was sure they’d get the whole thing out of me eventually. What would happen then? Would we all end up behind bars? I couldn’t risk it.

We pulled up outside Manhattan Criminal Courthouse.

“It’s just you and me from here,” Frankie said, taking his gun from a holster hidden beneath his jacket and pushing the weapon under the seat in front. Of course, he wouldn’t be able to take a gun into the building. We’d most likely have to walk through a metal detector on the way in.

“We’ll be here waiting for you, boss,” Otis said.

Frankie and I climbed out, and I stared up at the courthouse.

The seventeen-floor, concrete monster loomed over us. A seemingly endless stream of people flowed in and out of the doors. Armed court officials wearing bulletproof vests lurked at the entrance. Handcuffed defendants were guided in by police, and there were a lot of men and women in suits, mainly lawyers, I assumed.

I experienced a brief flash of fear that Joe Nettie would be here, too, and that he’d see me, but I shook the thought from my head. There was no reason he would be here. Besides, I was going to have to face him in a few days, anyway. It wasn’t as though he didn’t know who I was. He didn’t know for sure that I was going to testify against him, though. He’d done everything he could—including sending a whole heap of his men after me—to try to stop me. Perhaps he thought after everything I’d been through, I would be too frightened to take the stand, but the truth was that I was more frightened of the Capello brothers and what they might do to Dillon and the others than I was of Joe Nettie. It didn’t mean that I wasn’t frightened of Nettie—I was, and I’d have been stupid not to be—it was just that right now my fear of the Capellos was far more prevalent.

A hand shoved me from behind.

“Time to get moving,” Frankie growled.

I nodded and ducked my head, focusing on the ground rather than the intimidating view ahead of me. My heart thumped, and my mouth had run dry. My legs didn’t feel like my own as I joined the steady flow of people and entered the building.

Ahead of us stood a metal detector, security guards on either side. Now I understood why Frankie had left his gun in the car. It seemed the guards were also taking cellphones, not allowing them into the courtroom, their owners having to return to collect them later. I didn’t have anything on me at all. That was something that made me stand out as not quite fitting in right away. What woman would leave the house for an appointment like this without bringing a purse?

The only item of jewelry I owned was the necklace the guys had given me during my fake birthday. Everything else on me belonged to Frankie Capello. I had nothing I needed to empty into trays to go through the machine, so I simply joined the line of people stepping through the metal detector.

The overwhelming feeling I’d done something wrong and I was going to be pulled aside swept over me. I sensed Frankie’s gaze on me, watching me for any attempt I might make to signal for help, but I had no intention of doing anything of the sort. I kept my head down, not even meeting the gazes of the guards as I walked.

No alarms sounded, but I remained rooted to the spot, still certain someone would demand to know what I was doing there.

“Stand to one side, miss,” one of the guards said. “Let others through.”

“Oh, sure.”

I hurried on a few steps, getting out of the flow of foot traffic, then waited for Frankie. He’d placed items in a tray, so he was a few people behind me. Would Frankie get through okay? What if he had something on him that was going to get him noticed by the security guards? What if they recognized him and arrested him, and I was left here alone? What would I do then?

I honestly had no idea.

I hated feeling as though everyone was looking at me, knowing I was something different, but I guessed they saw all sorts of people here. Some of the worst kinds of city scum—drug dealers, wife-beaters, murderers, and pedophiles. One lost girl was of little interest to them.

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