Page 86 of A Very Daddy Christmas

A billion thoughts burn through my mind as the minutes pass in the back of this smelly van. I hear the men whispering to one another in rushed words and muttered curses.

The position I’m in is anything but comfortable. My back hurts. They’re pressing down on me even though I’ve stopped struggling.

The van wobbles as it finally comes to a halt.

I wonder what Eva will think when she returns to the bakery and realizes I’m not there. Will she call the guys? How long before they figure out I’ve been taken? Will it be too late for them to save me?

The pain and fear simmer in my chest, adding weight to an already heavy soul. Failure tastes bitter in my mouth. But I cannot fail, I remind myself. There is a life more precious than mine that I’m responsible for now. I must do whatever I can to keep my child safe.

“Get her out,” another man says as soon as the van door slides open again. His voice is low and gruff.

“Yes, sir,” one of my captors replies.

I’m hoisted up and unceremoniously carried out. I don’t struggle this time. I need to figure out what they intend to do with me— or to me. It’s cold out here. I can still hear distant traffic, but the air feels different. Thankfully, I’m taken into a building of some sort where it’s at least a bit warmer.

“Where am I?” I calmly ask as I’m forced to sit on the edge of something soft. A mattress, I’m guessing. The bag is removed from my head, giving me my answer.

It’s a motel room with peeling wallpaper, a lumpy bed, and dusty furniture. It’s the kind of place that looks like it hasn’t seen a reputable visitor, or a good cleaning, in quite some time.

Three men stand before me. Two of them are big —broad-shouldered, thick-necked bastards with cold eyes and black leather jackets. Recognition creeps in and I narrow my eyes at them. “I know you. You trashed my pastry displays.”

“You should’ve taken the hint,” the third man says. “Could’ve saved us all a lot of trouble.”

He’s older and shorter than his colleagues, but he is clearly the one in charge. Clad in a dark suit and a gray overcoat, he wears his thinning gray hair in a comb over, wrinkles drawing deep shadows around his tired, brown eyes.

“Stay outside,” he tells them. “You know what to do if she tries anything funny.”

“Yes, sir,” one of them replies.

I wait until they’re both out of the room before I say anything else. I catch a glimpse of the road outside, along with a portion of the parking lot. I know this motel. We drove past it on our way to Rutger.

“You must be Denaro,” I mumble as the door closes behind the two goons. A key turns in the lock.

“Filipo, actually. Denaro’s a nickname. It means—”

“Money, yeah,” I cut him off. “I’m guessing you’re the guy my sister and I outbid for the building.”

Denaro gives me a curious look, then chuckles dryly and pulls a chair over to the edge of the bed so he can sit closer to me. His breathing sounds heavy as if every move is a serious effort.

“You have no idea how much trouble you’ve caused with your stubbornness, Miss Levine. You should’ve just left that place, like you were told,” Denaro says. “But kids these days. You all think you can get whatever you want.”

“You and Orson St. James must have your wires crossed,” I shoot back. “He took the place from us. He figured out another way to destroy our lives and our family business. So you took me for no reason. I don’t own the building you want.”

“Oh, I know about the morality clause,” Denaro smiles. “I’m the one who paid for the surveillance, Miss Levine.”

“If you know about the morality clause, then you know the sale was annulled. So, again, I’m here for no reason. You can just let me go.”

He shakes his head slowly. “Miss Levine, you and your sister have already foiled one too many of my plans. I’m not letting you out of here until I see George Hamilton’s name on the property deed.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Your sister and your boyfriends might want to intervene in what’s about to happen next. Even the morality clause can be appealed. It doesn’t mean they’d win, but they would waste more of my time. And time, Miss Levine, is something I no longer have. I need that building, and I need it now. So, you’re going tostay here until it’s done.”

It’s my turn to shake my head. “Why that building, though? What is so special about that building?”

“It’s smart business, Miss Levine. One of my associates from Texas is coming up to open a new enterprise here, and he’ll need a good, neighborhood-friendly front. The bakery is perfect for his needs.”

“A new enterprise. Let me guess, something illegal.”

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