Page 34 of Doll Face

“You’ve never heard of Romanelli? They’re mafia.”

She snorted. “Come on. There’s no more mafia anymore.”

“Yes, Macy, the mafia is a real thing.”

“Well, my Matteo is a business owner. He’d never hurt a fly. Hey, there’s the bus. Gotta run. See you tomorrow!”

She ran to the bus stop and waved at Tommy before getting on. During the ride she used her inhaler. All the turmoil of the night left her chest feeling tight. Macy hopped off at her stop and made her way to her apartment complex. A noise let her know there was someone behind her.

Not again, she thought.

Sliding one of her keys between her index finger and the second one, she turned to attack the asshole. A huge shadow fell over her and she didn’t have a chance to protect herself as a fist came out of nowhere. Pain engulfed her face as blood poured from her now-broken nose. Everything went dark.

Chapter Thirteen

A thousand thoughts raced through her head just as Pietro Romanelli pulled the trigger on his gun. All her hopes and dreams gone in an instant. Death had always been possible whenever she had an asthma attack, but that acceptance was different from knowing she was about to be murdered.

And then, to her surprise, the gun didn’t fire.

He pulled it away to study before aiming it again. Still, nothing.

“How can this thing be broken?” he muttered. Just then his phone buzzed and he pulled it out and glanced down and swore under his breath. Pietro glanced behind him to the man standing guard and thrust the gun at him. “Kill her. Take a photo and send it to me. Make sure her body is never found. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” the soldier replied.

Before he left, he yanked the necklace off her, stomping away. Macy looked up at the guard, wondering if she begged him, would he show mercy?

“I don’t want to die,” she cried, tears and snot mingling on her face.

The man studied her. “You know too much.”

“I know nothing. I swear it.”

He crouched down in front of her, the gun held loosely in his hand. “If you want to save your neck, tell me you know something.”

Macy blinked, not sure if she heard him correctly. “I-I know how to keep my mouth shut.”

The man studied for a long moment. Then he smiled. “If you know how to keep your mouth shut, then you know too much. Good. Now, I have to make it look like you’re dead. Hang your head to the side.”

He dipped his finger into some of the blood pouring out of her cuts, and deposited it on her temple, rearranging her hair around the spot.

“Stay put,” he said. He took out his camera and took a few pics while she hung there, pretending to be dead. Then he untied her, and the ropes fell to pool around her chair.

“Come.”

“W-where are we going?”

“Far away from here. But right now, you have to be dead so put on the act of your life.”

Macy was all too eager to escape. He bent and hefted her over his shoulder, fireman style, and marched up a set of stairs. She hung like a limp noodle, pretending she was dead, unable to believe her life had been spared. Whatever this man asked her to do, she would follow his instructions to the letter. She heard the beep of a car and a moment later, he carefully dumped her into the trunk.

“Don’t make a sound,” he warned.

Macy nodded and he closed the lid. Seconds later, the engine rumbled to life. The car moved, carrying her away, and she bit her knuckle to stay as quiet as possible in case someone could hear outside. Her tears of hurt and betrayal had turned into ones of relief. She was alive. It was over.

Through the long drive, she thought and made plans. Macy Moore had to die, obviously. Perhaps she’d move to Canada, or Europe. Seemed the farther away from the Romanelli family, the better. She had no idea how to start her life over, how to change her identity, but she’d figure it out.

A part of her still loved Matteo. Still mourned the idea of that happy-ever-after, and she hated herself for that. Matteo Romanelli was nothing to her. Less than nothing. Now, he was her enemy, and in her mind, she killed him a thousand different ways.

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