Page 37 of Bought
His focus should be on saving his family from the Morettis. I can’t add three more names to that list. And after seeing the destruction the Morettis rained over the Bachman’s cherished Village?
I don’t even know that they have the resources to take on our problem at the moment.
It’s not fair to drag him in any further than I already have.
Think quickly, Erin. Fix this.
I glance at the chandelier above us. It's a large circle illuminated from within, decorated with sparkling crystals. Two smaller, identical circles sit inside.
“Aliens,” I say.
“Huh?”
“UFO. Right there.” I point up. He glances up, confused. Work harder, Erin. I force a silly grin. “It was meant to be a joke. Sorry.”
His brow tightens. He stretches out his fingers, clasping his hands together as if he needs to keep them busy. He looks ready to murder me right now.
“Bad joke,” I say, repeating, “Sorry.”
He rubs his large hand over the back of his neck. “Don’t joke like that. It’s not safe.”
There it is. “Okay,” I whisper as it spreads through my chest. That warm, fuzzy feeling I get when he’s looking out for me. Warm like the lining of the coat he bought me. Warm like his strong arms holding me.
I feel bad for making him worry. I should never have let myself slip up by getting so close to the truth. “I wasn’t thinking clearly.”
He’s staring at me as if he doesn’t believe it, like he has more questions.
He leaves me with no other option.
I use the excuse that shuts every man up. “I need the loo. Be right back.” Dabbing my face with the cloth napkin from my lap, I excuse myself from the table.
“The loo,” he repeats with a light laugh.
There’s still worry in his gaze as he watches me walk away.
I need a moment to breathe. Out of his line of sight, I slip past the bathroom, find the hall I need, and go out the back door of the restaurant, desperate for the cold rush of air that cools my face.
“Get a grip. Don’t do that again.” I pull the coat tighter around my shoulders.
He’s good to me. Too good. Especially when I have to steal from him tonight, my stomach turns at the thought, tasty chicken now feels heavy and curdling in my gut.
I’m turning to go back inside when headlights pierce through the dark alley, arriving before the car itself comes into view—a black, low-riding Cadillac. The windows are so heavily tinted you can't see inside.
My stomach twists queasily, and a white heat rushes over my face with sudden realization; the Morettis have been following me all night.
They may have been following me for days.
There’s no point running. I take my coat from my shoulders and slip my arms inside the sleeves. I pull it snug like armor and walk toward the driver's side door.
Until now, I’ve only communicated with the Morettis through Bambi. She knew we were in trouble and spoke to her brother, Valentino, on my behalf.
To ask for a favor.
Then, the calls from a blocked number arrived.
This is the first time I will see the face behind the veiled threats on the other end of the phone. My heart clenches, tightening my chest as the window rolls down.
He’s smaller than he sounded on the phone. But that doesn’t mean he’s any less dangerous. He’s one of those men who hold tension in their wiry, taut muscles. The ones who slip in and slice your throat before you even get the chance to scream.
