Page 35 of Doll Face

Eventually, the car began to slow and then come to a stop. The engine turned off. Macy waited, and then the trunk opened. She looked up to see an older woman peering down at her. Her pale brown eyes regarded her coldly behind wire-rimmed glasses. Her silver hair was piled on top of her head in an elegant top knot. Next to her stood an older man. Salt and pepper hair. Wrinkles fanning from his eyes. A hint of sadness ran though his brown eyes,

The lady cocked her head. “Who is she again?”

Her accent lent a touch of sing-song in her voice. Each syllable clear with rounded vowels. Macy had heard enough Italian to recognize the language.

“Matteo’s girl,” her rescuer replied.

“Another Romanelli destroying an innocent woman,” the older man said softly. “He’s destroyed her face.”

A dark shadow passed over the woman’s regal countenance as her eyes glazed over, as if lost in an unpleasant memory.

“Macy didn’t deserve to die like that,” he added. “Pietro told me to kill her after his gun failed to fire. Left me with her.”

“His gun failed to fire? Your handiwork, I take it, Gunner?”

“Of course,” Gunner replied. “I knew what he was planning. Macy is an innocent, and we need to protect her.”

“That we do.” The old woman blinked and focused on her once more. “One more reason to destroy that family. But be careful, Gunner. Pietro isn’t dumb.”

He nodded. “I know. And if he kills me, so be it. At least I died doing what I could to bring them all down.”

The old woman patted his arm. “I’m selfish, I suppose. I don’t want you joining your wife in heaven just yet.”

The two smiled at each other, respect in his gaze.

“Please help her out of there, Mauro.”

The two men helped Macy out of the trunk, and the older man, Mauro, held onto her as she swayed a little. Her adrenaline had crashed a while back, leaving her lightheaded. Or maybe it was the blood loss. Pain was her constant companion at this point. Even the tightness in her chest seemed like a moot point. As she eyed her surroundings, she realized she stood in front of a massive house. Red brick, beautiful Corinthian columns, rising three stories into the air and topped with a pediment. Tall purple wisteria trees bracketed the house, their beautiful colors and sweet scent made her gasp. Mauro let go of her and backed up a little, but stayed behind her. From the wariness in his eyes, Macy figured he was unsure if she could stand on her own two feet.

“Are you going to hurt me?” Macy whispered, asking the woman.

“No,” she replied. “I’m Orianna Aldighieri. Gunner here thinks you can be part of my organization. Macy, right?”

It was on the tip of her tongue to say yes, but Pietro’s words echoed in her head. Her life was over because she could never go home again. If she surfaced, he would find her and kill her. She’d seen enough television to know how the mafia mentality worked.

“I don’t have a name anymore,” she muttered. What did it matter anyway? Matteo got his wish. Macy Moore was dead.

Orianna nodded, as if she understood. “Family?”

“No one.”

She used to hate being all alone in the world, but now, she was glad Pietro Romanelli couldn’t hurt anyone she cared for.

“Gunner, return to the Romanelli household,” Orianna ordered. “Keep your eyes and ears open. Lay low, don’t take chances.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He gave her a respectful nod then winked at Macy.

He saved my life, she thought. Wanting to thank him, she hobbled over to him and hugged him around the waist.

“Thank you,” she sniffed, tears threatening once more to fall. “I can never repay you for saving me.”

Gunner hesitated for a brief moment before slipping his arms gently around her to return the hug. After a moment, she let him go and stumbled back. Mauro helped steady her and she threw him a grateful look. Then Gunner got back into the car and drove away. She watched as the car receded, wondering if she’d ever see him again. He had saved her life. Her debt to him could never be repaid. The huge wrought iron gates opened then slowly closed behind him as the taillights disappeared.

“Come,” Orianna said, and began walking to the steps of the house.

Macy followed her, every step jarring her wounds. She winced as pain flared once more, giving her a sneaking suspicion that she had a few cracked ribs. It hurt to breathe. Hurt to walk. Hurt to even think. The crash was coming soon and all she wanted to do was lay down.

“I’m sorry this happened to you,” Orianna murmured. Mauro trailed behind them. “As you’ve probably inferred, Gunner works for me and has been feeding me information on the Romanelli syndicate.”

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