Page 42 of Take A Chance

“Tits that pretty shouldn’t be caged.”

I shrank back at his comment, the fight in me gone. If I stood up for myself, there was a chance he’d get rough with me, and now that I knew I was pregnant, I knew the game had changed. They had more power over me. I couldn’t risk being smacked around or punished in other horrible ways.

I slid my arms into the bra and he clicked his tongue. “Too bad you’re being a good girl now. I’d spread you out on that bed and taste that tight little pussy of yours. Show you what a real man can do for you. You’d leave that son of a bitch rich boy you’re fucking and marry someone your father could be proud of.”

“What?” I looked at him, shaking. They knew about Blake? They knew who he was?

“Oh, you want to get lippy? Go ahead, baby, my cock is ready to have some fun. Ever been fucked in the ass?” His thumb slid up and down along the front of his jeans where a bulge was. I turned away quickly and dressed as fast as I could while he continued to make crude comments about me. When I had my shoes on, he escorted me down the stairs to the waiting car.

I wasn’t really surprised that the driver took us to the deli. It was the hub of all business activity for my father’s business. I was such a naïve child, thinking this sandwich shop had made my family so rich. But children believe what their parents tell them.

The muscly beast used the point of the gun in my back to prod me through the back entrance into my father’s office. I heard him in there talking before we walked in. The room was hotboxed, smoke rolling out as the door opened to allow us entry. I coughed, waving my hand in the air as I entered the tiny, dim room. For as powerful and revered as my father was, his office here seemed demeaning. Small metal room, one single light dangling overhead, three filing cabinets, a steel desk, and four chairs. In one corner was a stack of cardboard boxes filled with cleaning products, but for all intents and purposes, it looked just as normal as any office in any deli in America.

“Glad of you to join us, Amelia.”

He didn’t look glad to see me, and I definitely wasn’t glad to see him. “Father,” I said, standing across from his desk.

“You can stand, that’s okay.” He held in his hand a copy of a newspaper from almost two years ago. The headlines detailing Louie’s murder stared up at me. I swallowed hard. So he was wanting retribution, or answers. I had none to give him.

“What do you want from me?”

The butt of a gun smacked the back of my head, and I winced, reaching for the spot where it connected. Pain radiated down my neck and shoulders. I felt tears welling up.

“Don’t talk to the boss that way, traitor.” The same gravelly voice that had said such nasty things to me in my bedroom was there, speaking right in my ear. His hot breath on the back of my neck made goosebumps rise on my arms.

“Jasper is right, Amelia. You should respect me. You’re lucky you’re not joining your mother right now.” My father looked up at me with anger in his eyes. “I can overlook that you fell in love with the enemy. A heart is blind. Look what I put up with for thirty years...” He tapped the paper. “I can’t tolerate a plot on my life.”

“I had no idea he was going to do that. I swear. I didn't know anything about his plan.” I turned quickly, backing away for fear that the man would strike me with the gun again, but he was gone, door open. Only me, my father, and one of his capos.

“I want to believe you. But I don’t.” He stood and moved to a filing cabinet, opening it. “So I’m giving you one chance to prove yourself.” He reached in and pulled something out. It was a picture. He slid it across the desk. “You kill this man, and I will trust that you have this family’s interest at heart. You will have to move up the ranks like anyone else, and for a time, you will still have men watching you. But this is the way forward.” He put a finger on the image and pushed it across the desk.

I stared down at the picture in horror. I wasn’t a murderer. I could never take a human life. My hand fluttered to my stomach unconsciously, and I thought of the life inside me. “And if I don’t?” I asked, terrified of his answer.

“You die. That simple.”

I picked up the image and stared at it. I knew the man well. Tony Moncelli, Louie’s cousin, responsible for the plot that ultimately ended Louie’s life. The man wasn’t a saint, but he didn’t deserve death. I couldn’t kill him. I didn't know how to use a gun, and I was weak. What the hell was happening?

“What will it be, Amelia? Your life or his?”

I looked up at him, mouth agape. I needed Blake to get me out of here.

24

Blake

Seven days. That’s how long Emma had been gone before my investigator had any substantial information. I’d received a notice from the detective assigned to this case five days ago that without her real identity, there wasn’t much they could do to track her down, which I knew was true. It didn’t make it any easier to swallow, however, so I was on my way to the city to visit the PI.

The rain hadn’t let up in days, a perfect fit for my mood. I hadn’t gone to work, barely eaten or slept. My mind warred with my heart. Logically, I should have been too upset with myself for not vetting her properly to worry about her. I should have been glad she was gone, out of my life, away from my daughter so we’d be safe.

But I wasn’t.

The brain thinks in logic, but the heart thinks only with how it feels, and my heart was in shambles, sliced to the core as something that belonged to me was torn from it. Rage and fear pushed back and forth on the edges of my mind. I’d feel like tearing someone limb from limb one second, then sit trembling, on the verge of tears, thinking I’d never see her again the next. Next to the thought of losing Katelyn, this feeling was the worst I’d ever experienced.

My phone buzzed, and I answered it, my heart so heavy I had no emotion left to comfort the caller.

“Sir, it’s Greta.”

“Yes... I’m here.”

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