Page 13 of Love Without Control

“One more thing,” Guido said, handing me the keys to the car. “Your father said to leave the money locked in the car while you go inside the house and inspect the merchandise. This is the first time he’s working with these guys, and he doesn’t trust them.”

“Never trust a criminal,” I quipped, feigning nonchalance, though I felt that twinge to reach for my weapon again at his mention ofthe merchandise.

The drive to the destination was short, and I paused the vehicle in front of the huge house, a white building with a hipped roof. Dual galleries—a type of porch or balcony—rested one above the other, the top being held up by white columns. In the classic architecture of an older New Orleans home, intricate balusters framed the top balcony.

It looked nondescript, a typical house on the corner of a seemingly quiet neighborhood. Per my instructions, I pulled around to the back and punched in a number on the keypad that was positioned in front of a tall, wrought iron gate. It slid aside, and I pulled in, finding a single guard in front of the wooden door around back.

Leaving the money in the car, I locked it and approached.

“Name?” the word was a mere grunt from the burly guard, who was holding a semi-automatic weapon in his large hands.

“Cappitani.”

“Identification.” I whipped it out and he inspected it before nodding. “You’re the last one to arrive. All the others have picked up their merchandise already.”

There was that word again.Merchandise. Jesus, what the fuck was wrong with these people?

Without a word, I reached for the doorknob, but he stopped me with an arm across the door.

“I need your weapon before you go in,” he informed me, nodding toward an empty wooden box on a small table beside him.

I pulled my Beretta from my shoulder holster and placed it inside, and as I was about to reach for the pistol tucked into the back of my pants, the guard moved his arm and pushed open the door.Huh? Did he honestly think I only carried one piece? Dumb fuck.

Covering my movement by pretending to straighten my suit jacket, I rolled with it, stepping inside with the silenced 9mm still concealed at my lower back. “Go down the hallway, through the living room, and to the hall on the other side. Last door on the right,” he instructed, closing the door behind me.

The hallway was narrow and dim, lit only by brass sconces every few feet that emitted a dull, yellow glow that revealed a faded floral wallpaper. My eyes swept everything, noting that the doors on either side of the corridor were open and the rooms beyond them empty.

I passed a kitchen on the right and noticed the small wooden table littered with beer and liquor bottles, but there were no people present. Making my way down the hall on the other side of the living room, I slowly approached the last door on the right, which was slightly open. With my back pressed against the wall, I peeked through the small crack and saw two men sitting on a mattress on the floor, both scrolling on their phones.

I didn’t see the girl, but I could hear her. “Helloooo? I said I need some water.”

“No,” the man on the left side said without even looking up. “If I give you water, you’ll need to pee, and I’m not going through that shit again.”

The speaker was blond and chunky, while the other man was more well-built and appeared to be Latino. A pistol sat on a weathered nightstand beside chunky.

“Awww, I’m sorry,” the female voice said mockingly. “Did I hurt your teeny-tiny little balls? I should get some kind of award for actually finding them with my knee.”

The man glared toward the corner of the room not visible to me. “Shut the fuck up, Evie.”

Evie. Her name is Evie.I liked it.

“I will not shut the fuck up until you bring me some water, Ethan. It’s been, like, eight hours since I’ve had anything to drink. I’m going to get a kidney infection.”

“I. Don’t. Care,” he gritted out.

“What kind of name is Ethan for a kidnapper anyway?” Evie taunted. “Sounds like you should be the third-string quarterback at a prep school.”

I could hear his teeth grinding from out here, and I smiled to myself. She knew how to push his buttons. Probably not the smartest idea, but I liked it nonetheless. “I’ll have you know, I was second-string.”

“Ohhh, very impressive. If I wasn’t fucking handcuffed, I’d give you a round of applause,” the smartass—who I was liking more and more by the second—shot back. “And you can forget the five-star review on Yelp! for this kidnapping. In fact, I’d like to speak to your manager.”

My hand covered my mouth because I was finding it difficult not to laugh.

The Latino man nudged Ethan. “Shut her up. I’m tired of listening to her shit.”

The blond stood, picked up a dirty rag from the nightstand, and rounded the bed.

Nope. Not gonna happen.

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