27. Bonnie
27
Bonnie
O h crap, oh crap, oh crap…
Not a helpful train of thought, but it’s the only train in my brain station that generally describes my state of mind. Describing my brain as a train station shows the level I’m at right now. I can’t think straight—or at all. The bag over my head blocks all the light, and the stench of old cigarettes is nauseating. Add that to the enormous headache gripping my skull and it’s no wonder I can’t think of anything other than Oh Crap!
Everything happened so fast. One minute I was sitting on the bed with Kelley and Pete, freaking out over the fire, and the next minute the bedroom door was being kicked in. Kelley screamed. Pete jumped off the bed and tried to fight three men off, but got hit. Kelley was ripped off the bed by her hair and I was socked right in the face. Things went black and stayed that way. I only know I’m awake now because of the sound and smell overwhelming me.
They must have shoved me in the back of a van because I’m rolling about with every bump and turn. I can hear a low-pitched voice, presumably giving instructions now and then, but I don’t recognise it. Damn, I wish I could speak Italian. Two years of mediocre French at school is the extent of my linguistic abilities. I don’t think screaming, Ciao, Bella at the top of my lungs will do any good. It’s literally the only Italian I know.
My face really flippin’ hurts. Oh, God, I hope Kelley and Pete are alright. And my dads! My heart plummets when I think of Allegra. Was the fire a trap or a ruse? Did they hurt her? Does she know I’ve been taken?
Please find me, Allegra .
I plead to the universe she hears me. If anyone can get me back, it’s her. And God help whoever gets in her way.
The van, or big car, slows down. I can feel the road is rough through the tyres. Gravel, maybe? It will be somewhere remote. They always take hostages to an abandoned building or something. In Mob’s Seduction, it was an old pig farm. The villain had one of his prized pigs placed in a pen. He was known as Benny the Pork, which, along with the book’s title, is stupid—but I digress, Benny would torture his victims and then feed them to his pig.
It’s times like this I wish I hadn’t finished the book. I wouldn’t have if Allegra hadn’t downloaded it. It was a bad idea, especially when I’m the hostage. Oh, fuck, fuckity, fuck. Giani’s going to feed me to his pig or something.
The brakes squeak as we stop. It’s not a smooth manoeuvre and I slam into something hard. A voice next to me makes me jump and recoil. I didn’t know there was someone here with me. He shouts in Italian and gets a mouthful in return from one of the men in the front.
A door opens, and then I hear the side panel door slide on rusty rails.
Definitely in a van.
I bet it’s one of those small panel vans serial killers use. How many bodies have they thrown in the back of this one? The thought makes my tummy roll.
Strong hands grip my shoulders, and with little effort, haul me to the rough ground. The air is thick with heat and I can still smell smoke. They can’t have taken me that far then, right?
I strain to hear anything past the pounding in my ears. I hit the gravel hard and knock my head. There’s a slapping sound, and the man with the low-pitched voice rages in Italian. The goon who had me by the shoulders hisses and lets go of me. I think he got the slap.
No sooner do I sit up than I’m dragged to my feet and hiked over a broad shoulder. The pungent smell of expensive cologne makes my eyes sting.
The air changes as we step into what I think is a building. It carries a musty smell, reminiscent of a room that hasn’t been aired out in a long time. I’m jostled and dumped into a soft chair. If my arms weren’t tied behind my back, the chair would be quite comfortable.
More shuffling and murmurs, and then it goes silent. Even though I’m blinded by the sack still rammed over my head, I close my eyes and take a deep breath, trying to get myself into a state of calm. I will not let these arseholes know they’ve scared me. Been there, done that this month.
“Do you know who I am?” the low-pitched voice asks. His English is broken but clear.
“Giani Arello,” I reply. Maybe I should play dumb, and pretend I have no idea who he is or why they could have possibly taken me. But then I think of the bloody book again, and remember the character who did that and how it didn’t go too well for her. So, I’ll do the opposite and hope for the best.
“Ah, so Daddy warned you, huh?”
“If you mean Lorenzo, then no. It was Allegra.” I want to warn him she’ll come for me and when she does, he’s in big trouble, but that would be stupid. I’m sure he’s well aware of the shit Allegra is about to bring.
“Yes, Allegra. She’s too clever for her own good, at times.”
“I think you’ll find she’s cleverer than you, Mr Arello.” Ah, my snarky side is coming out to play.
Great timing as ever, Bonnie!
“She is a child, and this doesn’t concern her,” he growls.
My mouth runs away with itself as usual. “I’m part of the family. You’ve just made it her business.”
“You’re Lorenzo’s bastard, not a Ferrante.”
“Totally agree,” I say. “But the Ferrantes don’t seem to make those kinds of distinctions.”
The sack over my head is pulled off, along with several strands of my hair. Just what I need, a bald patch to go along with my mangled face.
My hands are untied, which gives a little comfort. I get my first look at Giani Arello and what I see is…huh, unexpected. He’s short, probably around my height, and he’s round. When I say “round”, I’m saying his circumference is impressive and defies physics. His hair is thin and combed back with enough gel to withstand several rounds in a wind tunnel. There’s a chemical shimmer hovering over his skin, which I presume is cologne. These guys are wearing it at dangerous levels. It must affect their oxygen intake. Everything about him screams “sleazebag”.
He looks at me with a set of bloodshot marbles for eyes. I’d guess he’s had a few drinks. “Why aren’t you…scared?”
I’m sure he was expecting me to be hysterical, and if this had been a few weeks ago, you bet your bottom I would have been. I’d have hyperventilated in the first ten minutes of my abduction and passed out. But I’m not the same person now. I’m nowhere near the level of calm someone like Allegra would be in this situation, but I’m confident enough she will keep her promise and get me home, so there’s no need to have a full meltdown just yet.
“Should I be scared? Are you planning on hurting me?” I can’t just rely on Allegra finding me. I need to work this guy and buy some time.
He grins like a classic movie villain. “I’m going to hurt you. That’s a promise. I just need Lorenzo here to see it.”
Okay, I wasn’t expecting him to be that blunt. Time to channel my parents. “I’m nothing to him, Mr Arello. You must know that?”
“He wouldn’t have hidden you if that were the case, my dear. No, no. Lorenzo loves you, which is why it will break him when I take you away. Vengeance will be mine.”
Time to change tactics. I shake my head and give him the best pitying look I can forge. “I feel bad for you, Mr Arello. You’ve carried all this anger around for so long. And for what? Don’t you get it?”
“Get what?”
I let out a small, humourless chuckle. “You got your vengeance the second my mother died in childbirth. She was his true love, and he has to live every day knowing he could have prevented it or at least been there at the end. Instead, she died alone. You can kill me, but it won’t have the effect you think it will. Lorenzo has been broken for a long time. You can’t take any more away from him.”
There, a nice dose of psychobabble to confuse the situation and, hopefully, the man tipping precariously to one side.
“My being here is a constant reminder of what he lost. When you kill me, he never has to look at my face again. A face that resembles my mother so closely. You’d be letting him off the hook.”
I put some anger in my voice, because it occurs to me that I’m on to something good. If I can convince Giani that I hate Lorenzo as much as him, he may deviate from his plan. I can see his cogs turning. His booze-soaked mind is trying to make sense of what I’m saying.
“How could you ever think of letting him get away with what he did?” I continue with venom coating every word. “He deprived me of a mother!” I shriek. “I never knew what her smile looked like, or if she would have sung me to sleep. I never got to learn how to be a woman from her. He took that from me. All the memories a child should have when they are grown, I never had and never will. So, think about it before you do something rash. Be smart, Mr Arello. Help me punish him until the day he dies.”
Oh wow, this is an Oscar-worthy performance if I do say so myself. I might ask Pete if I can join his theatre group when we get back.
“You hate him?” Giani asks, a tinge of wonder in his voice.
“With everything I have,” I reply quickly.
Reaching around, he plucks a gun I hadn’t noticed from the waistband of his trousers. It’s shocking the Mafiosi haven’t blown their own butts off. I’m sure it’s not safe gun protocol to wedge it down your ass crack.
Placing it on the table next to him, he pulls out a chair and sits. It’s the first time since he began speaking that I feel I can breathe a little easier. My eyes scan the room as he pours himself a glass of wine. We’re in a dilapidated living room. The walls are stone and they look old—an old farmhouse, maybe.
Surprisingly, he slides the glass over to me before snapping his fingers at the man standing by the door. The other man dutifully retrieves another glass for his boss. I probably shouldn’t drink given I definitely have a slight concussion. I take a large gulp anyway.
“I find myself surprised by you, Bonnie.”
“Ditto,” I say over my glass.
“Lorenzo is a coward. I would never have let Maria go. If you had been mine, you would have stayed with me no matter what,” he says with conviction.
The thought of Giani ever being my dad sends a shiver down my spine. It’s not his sleazebag character that makes me feel queasy. It’s the cruelty I know he possesses. My life would have been hell if he’d got his hands on me.
“Would…” I purposefully let my question trail off. I want him interested in me.
“Speak, child,” he urges, drinking his own wine.
“If you’d found my mother before I was born, would you have taken me on as your own?”
“Of course,” he barks, slamming a meaty hand to the table. “Maria would have had to be punished, you understand, but I would never have hurt her child. I would have raised you as my own. Taught you everything you needed to succeed.”
Oh, how chivalrous! Douchebag.
Okay, time to bring it home. “I would have had a proper family,” I choke, my hand flying to my mouth. The single tear is a bonus. I’d like to say it’s my wonderful acting skills again, but it’s the pain radiating from my face that’s making my eyes water. Whatever works, right? And it has worked. I know I have him now. Giani Arello won’t lay a finger on me. I just have to work out how the hell I use his newfound soft-spot-slash-weakness to get myself out of here!