“No—”
“Do you want to go or not?” she asked, tossing the bat on her shoulder.
This time, it was his eyes rolling back at her stubbornness before he got something from the glovebox of his Cadillac that she couldn’t make out before it disappeared in his suit jacket and headed toward the passenger side of her car. Obvious by the way he was looking at her 2005 Scion XB, he thought it was a shit box.
Smiling victoriously, she didn’t care what he thought. Sal’s car was more of an antique than hers.
She got in the car and placed her bat between the driver’s side door and her left leg, out of his reach.
“Of course, you leave your keys in the ignition, too,” he grumbled, finally getting in himself.
“Sure do,” she said, starting the old box-looking car and relaxing. One thing was for certain: Sal was no Dahmer.
Dahmer never would have told a single woman not to leave their keys in the ignition or to find a better hiding spot for their key than under their front door mat.
As they journeyed on while she took his directions with somewhat difficulty, it didn’t take long before the direction they were going seemed somewhat familiar to her.
“Right, not left!” he corrected in a rush when her wheels started turning the wrong direction. “And fucking slow down a bit.”
Sal was clearly frustrated by now, and she didn’t miss the curses under his breath, along with him saying, “How the hell do you play video games and don’t know your lefts and rights?”
Letting his curses slide, she took a long stretch of road, wondering where the hell he was taking her. Then sheimmediately realized she had taken this way almost every day on her way … to work.
Almost certain he was taking her to the Horseshoe, she couldn’t understand one thing.But why?
“Pull over here.”
“Here?”
“Yes, here!” he shouted exasperatingly with all patience lost.
Doing as he asked, she pulled over and put the car inPark. “Why are we going to the Horseshoe?”
Sal cleared his throat. “We’re not.”
Every hair on her body stood up in warning as she suddenly realized he wanted her to go to the placeacross the streetfrom the Horseshoe.
The suit.
The Cadillac.
Lucca Caruso bailing her out.
Officer Daniels’ warnings about Sal.
Holy fuck.
Valerie swallowed hard, wondering what her next move should be, knowing she was sitting right next to a made man. This whole time, her biggest enemy had been a glorified gangster, a legit mobster whom she had snooped on, cussed out, and to top it all off, ate Taco Bell in his car just to piss him off.
She desperately gripped the steering wheel, wanting to reach for the bat. She was stupidly brave, but she wasn’tthatstupidly brave. There was no winning in this situation. Sure, she could whack him before he whacked her, but then what? The mafia would send her a gutted fish before the morning came.
Understanding that she had put the puzzle pieces together after sensing her fear, he spoke in a calming tone. “No one’s going to hurt you, Valerie. I promise.”
With her gut betraying her, telling her to trust him, she figured it was his job to get people to trust him, and he was good at it.Too good at it.
“Lucca Caruso just wants to talk.”
“L-Lucca Caruso?” she mouthed, almost unbelieving. When he confirmed with a nod, she licked her parched lips. “He’s your boss, isn’t he?”