Page 124 of Craving Danger
I pull my phone from my pocket, and looking for the video I took of Samantha packing some of her clothes into my closet, I turn the screen to Todd and press play.
My voice sounds up, saying, “I love you, baby. More than anything.”
She lets out a soft burst of laughter. “I love you too. Get over here and help me.”
“Or you can join me on the bed,” I murmur.
She turns around and with a playful smile on her face, she comes closer. “What are you doing?”
“Recording you so I can watch it whenever I miss you.”
She crawls onto the bed, and I have to admit, I got a good shot of her kissing me.
“Who do you belong to?” I ask Samantha.
“You,” she murmurs. “Only you.”
Pressing stop, I watch as tears stream down Todd’s temples.
“I thought you’d like it.” Raising to my full height, I look down on the piece of shit, then I order, “Bury him alive.”
Todd starts to wail as he tries to pull himself up, but he’s too weak. Santo and Joey shift the wooden cover over the box, and I keep eye contact with Todd until the wood slides over his face.
As I listen to Todd’s muffled cries for mercy, the men nail it shut.
When the last nail is hammered into the coffin, I stalk out of the room. Marcello’s right behind me, saying, “The group we sent to Miami found Miro. They’re on their way back.”
“Good. Maybe then we can arrange a meeting with Ivan. When they get back with Miro, put him in the torture room.”
“Got it.”
One down. One to go.
Samantha
Sitting on the veranda with a glass of lemonade, I dial Mom’s number and listen as the call connects.
“Hey, sweetie,” her voice sounds cheerful over the line.
“Hi, Mom.” I smile as I ask, “How does it feel to be a grandma?”
“Amazing. Josh is such a good baby. He hardly cries.”
“I’m happy to hear that,” I say. “Are you still visiting Matt?”
“No, I got home yesterday.” She lowers her voice. “You’d swear I left your father for a year. The man won’t let me out of his sight. Oh, here he comes.”
I let out a chuckle. “Aww, he missed you.”
I watch as the gates open and the G-Wagon comes up the driveway.
“I suppose.”
“Who are you talking to?” I hear Dad ask.
“Sammie,” Mom answers.
“Put her on speakerphone.” Seconds later, Dad says, “Hi, Sammie. How are you?”
