Page 19 of Wrong Place Perfect Time

There’s a bang as the swinging doors fly open, then even louder bangs that make my ears ring.

The old man clutches at his side before he’s grabbed by two of his men, who whisk him toward a side exit.

I can’t hear anything all of a sudden, but I can see plenty.

The whole room slowly fills with choking smoke from what I soon realize are handguns firing round after round into the kitchen.

The men on my side of the kitchen show me what they were reaching for earlier, returning as many bullets as they can with their own guns.

Most of them whizzing past my ears until one of the attackers spots me. I’ve never seen him before, but he looks like he’s just won a prize at the county fair once he spots me.

His lip curls into a grin, and he moves toward me, towering above me with both hands out.

In the excitement of what feels like being kidnapped for the second time today, I do what any self-respecting girl who’s had the day I’m having would do.

I faint.

Probably for the best because being manhandled and shot at isn’t something I wanna be awake for right now.

Finally coming to, I feel the warmth of a soft bed underneath me, replacing the cold cement floor of the restaurant kitchen.

My first thought is I must be dreaming, maybe even in the afterlife.

Everything’s so….

Clean. So…expensivelooking.

I don’t have long to imagine the worst, though. The sound of voices behind a thick wooden door that’s being unlocked tells me I’m far from dead.

And once I see who walks in, I’m still not sure if I’m actually in a better place or not.

At least they’re not shooting at me, I suppose.

He’s an older man like the Portello guy who ‘hired’ me and then kidnapped me earlier.

But he seems different, kinder, and a little wiser.

A lot more like a kind grandpa than an angry-looking one.

I open my mouth to say something, but he shakes his head gently. He sits on the edge of my bed and takes my hand in his.

“I’m sorry if we frightened you, Maria,” he sighs. “But there’s some business between the two families now. And until it’s done, we’ll need to keep you here with us.

Maria?

I’m not….

Oh…they think I’m their rival’s daughter.

The nasty one who gave me the stink eye at the restaurant.

“But I –,” I start to protest, sitting up.

He might be old, but this fella has a grip of iron when he needs it, and his hand is strong on my shoulder as he repeats himself.

“We need to keep you here…But not for long,” he says firmly, relaxing his grip only when I lie back against the heavy, embroidered pillows.

“If you’re a good girl, it’ll be nice. We’ll look after you,” the old man says, creasing his mouth into a near smile before he frowns.

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