Page 7 of The Mafia's Quadruplets

“I got arrested.” He chokes out the words, followed by a sound that might be a sob. “They did a sting at this underground gambling place in Little Odessa. I swear I didn’t know.” His voice cracks, the desperation in it making my heart ache despite the anger beginning to simmer beneath my skin.

“You promised me, Jay!” I interrupt, my voice rising. “Three days ago, you looked me in the eye and said you hadn’t gambled in months!”

“I know, I know.” Jay’s voice quivers, his shoulders dropping. “I’m sorry. I thought I could win enough to settle some debts.”

“What debts?” I demand, gripping the phone tighter. Static crackles through the line, followed by silence. My stomach twists into knots as the quiet stretches between us. “Jay, answer me.”

“Look,” he says finally, each syllable dragging like lead through molasses. Static crackles through the prison phone line, nearly drowning out his shaky exhale. “I need you to take care of Mom and Dad, okay? Make sure they don’t...” His voice splinters, the sound raw and vulnerable in a way that makes my stomach clench. “I don’t think I’m getting out of this one. The evidence, the charges… They’re bad, Claire. Really bad.”

The fluorescent lights buzz overhead as I pace the length of my kitchen, phone pressed against my ear. Memories flash through my mind, the time he “borrowed” my savings for college, the countless IOUs, and Mom’s tears when he pawned her wedding ring.

That should’ve been unforgivable, and yet we forgave him. How many more times will that happen? How much more do we need to suffer because of what he’s doing?

“And why should I clean up your mess this time?” The words rip from my throat, sharp enough to cut. My free hand balls into a fist at my side. “I’m done bailing you out, Jay. I mean it.”

“Claire, please. There’s something else you need to know. Something important?—”

The bell above the shop door jingles, cutting him off.

“I have to go,” I say quickly. “A customer just came in.”

“Wait, Claire! You don’t understand!”

I hang up, my hands shaking as I set down the phone. Taking a deep breath, I plaster on a smile and turn to greet whoever has entered. My smile freezes as two men in impeccably tailored suits stride in, their expressions unreadable. Something about their purposeful gait makes me uncomfortable.

“Can I help you gentlemen?” I ask, my voice wavering slightly.

The taller man shifts his weight, causing the floorboards to creak beneath his Italian leather shoes. His hand disappears beneath his charcoal jacket, emerging with a matte black pistol. The metal catches the morning light streaming through the shop windows. My throat constricts as he angles the weapon downward, keeping it partially concealed behind his thigh but ensuring I see it clearly.

“Miss Bennett.” His voice carries the practiced smoothness of expensive whiskey. “Our boss would like a word with you. You’re going to come with us, nice and quiet.”

The bell above the door chimes again as another customer enters, browsing the displays of daffodils near the front. Beyond them, past the rows of sweet-scented lilies and vibrant carnations, my mother hums softly while arranging white roses in the workspace behind the counter. The second man follows my glance toward her, his thin lips curling upward.

“I wouldn’t try anything foolish,” he says as he steps closer, his cologne sharp and expensive. “We’d hate for your mother to get caught in the crossfire.” He gestures subtly toward the elderly woman now examining our selection of sympathy cards. “Not to mention any innocent bystanders once we’re out on the street. Things get messy fast when people don’t follow commands.”

My heart pounds while I weigh my options. These men are clearly professionals, and I have no doubt they’d follow through on their threats. I nod slowly, trying to keep my voice steady. “Just let me tell my mother I’m stepping out for a moment.”

The first man shakes his head. “No time for goodbyes. You’ll walk out with us now. Act natural.”

I swallow hard and force a smile. “Mom,” I call out, my voice only slightly strained, “I’m running a quick errand. I’ll be back soon.”

She waves absently from behind a massive arrangement of lilies. “Okay, honey. Don’t forget we have that big order coming in later.”

The men flank me as we exit the shop, their bodies tense and alert. A sleek black limousine idles at the curb, its windows tinted so dark they’re nearly opaque. One of the men opens the rear door.

“After you, Miss Bennett,” he says with mock politeness.

I hesitate for a split second before climbing in, my legs shaky. The interior is all buttery leather and polished wood. Under different circumstances, I might have been impressed, but this is terrifying.

The men slide in on either side of me, effectively boxing me in. The limo pulls smoothly into traffic.

“Where are you taking me?” I ask, hating how small my voice sounds.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” says the taller man. “Our boss doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

The drive seems to take forever, though in reality it’s probably no more than twenty minutes. We wind through the busy streets of downtown Philadelphia before pulling up in front of a towering skyscraper of glass and steel.

My captors usher me out of the limo and through the building’s imposing lobby. Heads turn as we pass, but no one intervenes, and I don’t cry out, not wanting anyone to be shot. We enter an elevator, and one of the men produces a key card, swiping it to access the penthouse level.

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