Page 113 of Desperate Desires

“Yeah. I got a license plate, and I think I know where it’s going,” Jr. said, and he sounded pissed.

“Send me the address and meet me there.”

“Ono, this is gonna be problematic. They’re made guys.”

“They shouldn’t have fucked with me, Jr. I don’t care who you gotta call, you do it and tell them they had this coming.”

Right then, I didn’t care if I was about to start a war with every mafioso in Jersey. They touched my wife.

The whole lot of them could burn in hell for all I cared.

“Faster, Gio.”

“Yes, Boss.”

I sat back and focused my breathing, allowing all the rage and fury I possessed to simmer, knowing full well I was going to let it all come out the second she was safe again.

“I’m coming for you, Doc. Hold on.”

Chapter 41-Shelly

The thing they don’t tell you about being taken against your will was how fucking slow time passed by.

I mean, it had to be more than an hour since this fat asshole came to my front door, threatened me with a gun, and then kidnapped me from my front door.

“I don’t know who you are or what you think we’ve done to you, but my husband is going to find me, and he is going to kill you,” I told the man who stood pacing in front of me.

“Shut up, bitch!” he shouted and slapped me, sensing a wave of nausea rising in my throat.

Shit. I probably had a mild concussion from when he hit me with the butt of his gun. And really, I knew better than to talk to him, but I just wanted to leave.

I thought that maybe if he saw reason, but no. This was not a reasonable man.

The red discoloration around his nostrils, and the way he kept sniffing told me this track suit wearing dipshit was probably out of his mind on cocaine.

I pivoted, switching my focus from him to the room itself. It smelled like a mixture of bad cologne, stale coffee, liquor, and sweat.

I dry heaved a little, only for the jerk to shake the chair I was in while screaming in my face.

“Knock it off!” he screamed at me, but I couldn’t help it.

Bile rose swiftly, the acid burning the back of my throat, and all I could do was try not to vomit.

“Carmine, we should let her go,” a second man said.

“Shut the fuck up, Rico,” Carmine answered.

“I’m sorry! It stinks in here!”

I shouted back, obviously because I was a moron. I winced, waiting for him to strike again, but the phone rang, and he grabbed it.

“Yeah? No, I took his whore. Wife? Well, fuck him! I’m a made guy. He killed Freddy. He got no right,” he was shouting, and I had no idea what he was talking about.

The shitty little room where I was sitting, currently tied to a chair, had no windows save for the large one up front, but it was covered by a wooden shutter, and no one could see inside.

There were old pictures on the wall. Flags and trophies, too.

I felt tired, but I knew if I closed my eyes that would be worse. So, I forced them to stay open, hoping like hell I wouldn’t throw up.

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