Page 16 of His Passerotta

I thought I knew what the fear that comes with being caught felt like. I’ve been caught places I wasn’t supposed to be before.

But this isn’t the police.

This isn’t the law determining my punishment.

This is the mob. Multiple of them, it sounds.

They’re much less forgiving.

My breath shakes as whoever’s behind me prods me with the gun. “Walk.”

Without hesitation, I do as I’m told, my feet inching closer to the voices slower than when it was my own will pushing me there. The guy behind me doesn’t say a word until we come into sight, and the loud man pacing the deep red carpet quiets mid-sentence, his steps halting as he stares at me.

A dark-haired man sitting with his feet propped on a table follows his peer’s line of sight, and Anthony turns a moment later, our eyes locking.

The first thing that crosses his expression is surprise, but it’s quickly swallowed up by an intense hardness I’ve never seen on his face.

I shudder.

“We have a visitor,” the man behind me announces as he pulls my hood down, his voice coming from so high up, it speaks to how tall he must be.

He taps my back with the gun, and I leap forward a step, a gasp sputtering from my Sahara Desert of a mouth.

The loud one, a blond man with well-defined muscles bulging from his tight blue shirt, aims his eyes above me to address the gun-toter. “Who is she?”

I look at Anthony, my lip quivering with fear I hope he takes as a silent, pleading apology.

I’m sorry.

I’m so, so sorry.

Please don’t let these monsters kill me.

“She was spying from the hallway,” the giant explains.

Silence falls over the room while they all look to me for an explanation, which is really just a brief opportunity for me to plead my case before they kill me. Not even that. In their minds, I’m probably already dead.

They’re just curious. The tables have turned.

“I’m sorry,” I squeak, earning zero pity in any of their eyes. “I—I’m an employee of this restaurant. I just, I—I—I…” I take a shaky breath, my heart feeling like it’s going to burst from my chest. “I left my phone here today and just came back for it. I heard voices…”

“And you decided what? To invade our privacy?”

“Now Maksim…” The dark-haired man, Finn I deduce, drags his black boots off the table and stands, a sinister smile playing on his face as he struts my way. “All you Russians take everything so personally. She’s just a curious little kitten. She can’t help it. Can you, sweetheart?” He pauses centimeters away and lifts a lock of my hair from my shoulder.

I stand perfectly still, my eyes wide as I silently continue my plea with Anthony who gives me nothing in return.

Finn drops the lock then brushes it off my shoulder, the thick hoodie guarding me from his touch.

“I’m a little curious myself,” Finn says, loudly enough so the others can hear. “You’re dressed a little warm for a Las Vegas summer night. Are you cold? Or sneaky?”

“Did you lock the back door?” Maksim asks, his eyes above me. The man steps out from behind me, confirming his enormous size. He isn’t just tall, he’s wide, with more muscle than a person could possibly need.

“Yes. She must’ve had a key.”

Maksim’s gaze moves to Anthony.

“No.” Anthony slowly shakes his head, anger igniting his eyes. “She wouldn’t have access to one.”

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