Page 133 of Bitter Poetry
I nod slowly. The absolute terror might have left me at the sound of his voice, but I’m still trembling violently.
He slowly peels his hand away.
“What are you doing?” I glare at him over my shoulder.
A faint bruise on his cheekbone is evidence of his violent life. He grins. “What I should have done a year ago—taking you.”
Releasing me, he slides the side door open, jumps out, and slams it shut again.
My legs give out, and I drop to my knees.
“Taking me?” What the hell does that mean? The adrenaline has barely cut me lose when it surges again, this time in anger. I push up and bang on the door. The vehicle rocks slightly and then the cab door slams shut. My face swings toward the small window between the front and back of the van. I bang on it as I peer through. “Taking me where?!”
He starts the engine, switches the radio on to drown me out, and swings into the road.
I pitch to the side, grunting when I bang a bruise on my hip, and barely steady myself when he takes a sharp right. I brace my hand on the wall and look around for something to hold. A nearby strap dangling from the ceiling is the best I’ve got. I lean forward to peer through the tiny window as he slows. Stopping at a set of lights, he lowers the driver side window and passes some things out to a motorbike rider pulled alongside the van. My cell, another cell, and what looks like a vehicle key.
Then he winds the window up and pulls away.
“Christian!”
He turns the radio up and slides a covering across the small window, blocking my view.
Asshole!
I bang against the wall between us and call out some more. After a few minutes, I give up and slump, fuming onto the floor amid the scattered delivery boxes. I guess I’ll find out where he’s taking me when we arrive.
CHAPTER 40
DANTE
After receiving a cryptic message from Christian, I leave my office in the club and head to my apartment where I find him waiting for me in the open-plan living room.
“I gotta go, yeah? Shit’s kicking off big time with Ettore, and I need to show my face. She’s in the guest bedroom. She locked the door. I didn’t point out that I could open it in less than ten seconds with a screwdriver. Figured you could handle that. Might want to just go ahead and have all the internal doors removed. Something tells me she’s going to be difficult.”
My head swings left where the corridor leads to the bedrooms and then back to Christian, who is rising from the couch and checking his cell phone.
“She?”
He glances up, half distracted by whatever he just read. “Carmela.”
Cold sweat breaks out across my whole body. She’s here, in my apartment, alone, finally, without Ettore Gallo or any of his henchmen in sight. “That happened a lot sooner than I expected.”
“Probably won’t be able to speak again for a while…” He gives me a chin lift and grins. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t.”
He shows himself out.
As my entry door clicks shut on him, I roll back over the conversation.
Locked door…
Going to be difficult…
I should remove all the internal doors…
Don’t do anything I wouldn’t…
“Christian, what the fuck have you done?” I mutter. With my eyes still on the corridor on my left, I pull out my cell phone and call Leon.
