Page 133 of Cook

The phone rang.

Rang.

Rang.

No answer.

“Cook, where are you?” I whispered, tears prickling my eyes.

I ended the call before voicemail picked up, hanging my head. Maybe I had overreacted and everything would be okay. I just needed to stand up and retrace my steps.

Balling my hands into fists, I put them to my temples. When did everything get so messed up? I shouldn’t have taken off.

Stupid, stupid, stupid! I pounded my palm into my forehead.

Where was Cook?

A car sped by on the road, and I flinched back into my hiding place in the bushes. The car was gone in a flash. The purr of engines echoed in the distance on the streets, but not motorcycles. I wasn’t entirely alone, no matter how much I thought I was.

Staying here wasn’t an option. I couldn’t do this by myself. I needed help.

If not Cook, then who?

I scrolled my thumb at the screen of the phone. When Cook got me the phone, he had input a lot of contact information. I had ignored all the names and places before, including takeout restaurants and Doctor Richardson. Even now, I wasn’t calling the shrink.

Roni’s number wasn’t there, and it made my heart sink. She would’ve been understanding, patient. She would’ve helped me get back to Daddy, when I didn’t think anyone else on this contact list would. I wished I’d asked Cook to take the yellow note and help me enter it. I would have to call someone else.

My thumb hovered over the screen, shaking as my heartbeat finally calmed. I clicked on the familiar name and placed the cell phone to my ear, listening to it ring.

Suddenly, she answered, “Melanie Flemming.” She sounded so professional.

I blew out a deep breath, my head lolling against the brick wall at my back. “Mel, it’s me. I need help.”

Chapter 22

Cook

Ididn’t know much about theman in front of me, but something in my bones knew and hated Massimo Parisi. Maybe it was his exuberant wealth from his whitened teeth and tailored suit. Most likely, it was because he was part of the Mafia and they had been trying to sneak things across our border.

The Gambinos and perhaps the Parisis thought they owned the world, and Maddie, and me. The gun to the back of my neck proved that I was no more than a slab of meat to them.

“I need your help, Cook,” said Massimo, spreading his hands and re-steepling the fingers.

“Help with what?” I did my best to hold a conversation while ignoring how the cool metal brushed against my hairline. “I’m no businessman.”

“I beg to differ,” said Massimo. “The MC is, at its core, a business. You’ve bought and sold marijuana for years until it became legal. Your little club controls what crosses the border, inbound and out. No?”

“I follow the Prez. He handles the business.” I didn’t need to drag Wilde into this, but everything went up through church and him, anyway.

“And you just follow orders?”

“Yes.” I wouldn’t be baited. “I need to leave.” And find Maddie.

“If only it were that easy,” said Massimo, tilting his head to the side.

The barrel pressed further into my skin, like it meant to burrow deep into my skull. What the fuck did they want? I waited in the chair, counting my haggard breaths. When I got out of this, I would kill every single one of them. After I found Maddie and got her somewhere safe.

“What do you want?” Spittle flew onto the desk through my clenched teeth.

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