Chapter Twenty-Seven - Elise
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Elise
“Why am I hearing from Ryder that you’re not eating?”
I glare at Ryder, who gives me a halfhearted, apologetic smile.
Joshua has been gone for two days, and this is the first time I’ve heard from him in that time.
It’s been a boring two days since I don’t have the motivation to do much more than sit in the upstairs lounge and watch TV.
It’s a simple luxury that I’ve missed these past few weeks, and I like to think I’m making up for lost time.
I was watching a Harry Potter marathon when Ryder approached me, holding out his phone. I figured it would be Joshua checking in, not questioning my dietary habits.
I pause the movie and tuck my legs beneath me. “I’m eating plenty.”
“Oh yeah? What have you eaten today?”
It’s just past two in the afternoon, and I haven’t been hungry enough to eat yet. I want to lie and say I’ve had two full meals already, but Ryder would rat me out.
“I’m building up an appetite,” I say instead.
“By watching TV?”
My glare toward Ryder intensifies, but he doesn’t seem bothered.
“I’m a grown-ass woman fully capable of taking care of myself. I’ll eat when I’m hungry. Did you need anything else?” My tone is snappier than I intend, but I have a right to it.
He declares his feelings for me, leaves for days, and finally reaches out—but only to let me know he doesn’t like what I’ve been doing in his absence.
Deep down, I know he’s genuinely worried about me, but if I’m being honest, I want him to come back.
The time I’ve had to sit around and do nothing has made me realize that I enjoy being with Joshua, and I’m angry that he hasn’t reached out until now.
“A grown-ass woman knows it’s not healthy to go without eating.” His tone matches my aggression.
“Why don’t you mind your own business?”
“You are my business.”
“I’m not your anything.”
We’re silent for a moment, and a part of me wishes I hadn’t snapped.
Joshua sighs, and I can imagine that he’s pinching the bridge of his nose like he always does when he’s frustrated. “Just promise me you’ll eat soon?”
“I will,” I agree. Letting my guard down, I ask what I really want to know. “When will you be back? You only have twenty-seven more days, you know.”
I hear the smile in his voice. “Trust me, I know. I should be back tomorrow.”
My stomach knots at the reminder of what tomorrow is. I’d almost forgotten, and I wanted to forget.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I tell him.
“Can’t wait.” And with that, he hangs up.
I set my icy scowl in place before turning to Ryder. “You told on me?”
He shrugs. “He asked about it, so I told him. I’m more afraid of him than I am of you, Elli.”
Elli—the nickname that Ryder insists on calling me.
Though I’ve missed Joshua these last two days, I’ve enjoyed getting to know Ryder. We’ve had plenty of time to talk, and I’ve learned quite a bit about him.
Four years ago, Joshua and Ryder moved to Sacramento for a few weeks to get some properties in order. Ryder admitted that they spent equal parts enjoying the clubs as they did managing them, and it was one of these nights that Ryder met Rachel, the mother of his child.
When I asked how much Rachel knew about Ryder’s work, he only laughed and assured me she was well-informed.
I’ve even seen pictures of Lyla, who looks just like her father.
She has the dark skin of both her parents, but the wide, thoughtful eyes are all Ryder.
She has long, unruly curls that are pulled into a ponytail in all the pictures he shows me.
I also notice that she only ever wears big T-shirts with leggings beneath them, none of the frilly, colorful dresses that other three-year-old girls seem to favor.
Apparently, throughout Rachel’s pregnancy, the other capos referred to Ryder as Ride-her. I mentioned then that I’ve never had a nickname, and Ryder quickly rectified that situation and has been calling me Elli ever since.
“You had to have known he was going to react that way. Couldn’t you have just lied? I thought you were on my side.” I press play on my movie, cuddling into the fleece blanket.
I’m finally able to lean my back against the couch, though not for long periods of time before the pressure brings on waves of tingles that morph into throbs if I’m not careful.
Still, it’s progress.
He shakes his head, dropping down next to me. “There are no sides, but he’s right. You need to eat. When was the last time you had a full meal?”
I imagine he won’t count the bowl of carrots I had last night as a full meal.
“I had a sandwich and chips yesterday for lunch.”
“That was two days ago. You slept through lunch yesterday.”
I search my memories only to realize he’s right. We had lunch together the day Joshua left, but I slept through most of yesterday, having had relentless nightmares the night before.
“Okay, so maybe it’s not the healthiest thing, but I can’t help it if I’m not hungry.”
He searches my face. “Are you feeling okay?”
“I’m fine, Ryder,” I assure him. “I’m just adjusting to being here, is all.”
I hope he’ll drop the conversation, and after a few moments of silence, I think I’m in the clear, but then he declares, “You’re depressed.”
“Wow, you should be a doctor or something.”
He ignores the jab.
“Why? You’re not a prisoner here, and in a month, you’ll get to choose what you do next. Shouldn’t that make you happy?”
I turn off the movie and adjust to face Ryder.
“Just because I’ll leave in a month doesn’t mean I’m not trapped now.
I might be free to walk around the house, but we both know I can’t actually go anywhere.
Even after this month, it’s not like I can go home.
Sure, I have the choice to leave, but I can never go back to normal.
My life, as I’ve always known it, is over.
That’s not something I can easily accept and move on from. ”
Speaking the words out loud lifts a weight that I didn’t realize has been crushing my chest since Joshua and I made this deal. I’ll live through this, but I still lost my life.
“You sound so sure about leaving in a month.”
I laugh, but the sound is dry. “Come on, it’s not like staying here is a real option. I’ve spent my whole life trying to get away from your work.”
“Have you considered that it’s not something you can get away from?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you’ve spent your whole life trying to run away, but have you ever actually done that?”
“Of course I have. I lived on my own for six years.”
“Sure, under constant security, with a fake name, unable to see your own family without extensive arrangements. Let’s say you leave here and go to Europe, the same will apply there, too.
Moreno will ensure you have security and a fake identity, and you won’t be able to come back to America.
I’m not saying that you actively participate in what we do, but you’ve never gotten away from it—not really.
Even after being in hiding for years, you’re still valuable enough to kidnap.
All I’m suggesting is that maybe you should try and embrace it for once. ”
His words hit me like a truck.
I thought I was free from my family’s work, but I’ve never truly escaped.
The simple fact that I couldn’t leave my home whenever my dad held family dinner is evidence that I’ve never been free. I’ve given up traveling the world, having real friends, going on dates, and engaging in countless other completely mundane life activities all because of my father’s job.
All the time I thought I was being strong and independent, I’ve been anything but.
Have I ever been free?
“Come on,” he calls, standing up from the couch and pulling me from my thoughts. “Let’s go get some food.”
A commotion from the kitchen drifts up the stairs, followed by hearty laughs.
“Could you bring something up here? I’m not feeling great.”
He doesn’t believe me for a second. “Elli, there’s nothing to be afraid of. No one here is going to touch you.”
“That hasn’t been my experience.”
He opens his mouth to protest but closes it quickly.
“That’s what I thought,” I mutter.
Shaking his head, he holds his hand out to me. “At least let me introduce you. It’s only the L.A. base’s capos. Maybe you’ll feel better after getting to know them, and if you don’t, you can hide up here all you want. Deal?”
“Aren’t they under instruction from Joshua not to talk to me?”
“They were told not to bother you, but I think it’ll help for you to meet them. Elli, trust me. I won’t let anyone hurt you.” His soothing voice works its magic, and I find myself reaching to take his hand.
The sounds of teasing and laughter travel through the house as Ryder and I enter the kitchen. None of the three men see us right away, and I use the opportunity to size them up.
The first thing I notice is how young they are.
None of them look older than thirty. In my—admittedly minimal—experience, the only time a capo is under the age of thirty is when they’re blood-related to the boss.
My brothers are my father’s main capos, and the only other capo even remotely close to their age is our cousin, Matteo, who works at the Detroit base.
I know without their confirmation that none of these men are related to Joshua.
The first man has light brown hair pulled back in a man bun.
The scruff on his jaw is short, and the rugged look suits him well.
Dark jeans and a red flannel are his outfit of choice, giving him the look of a hipster rather than a mafia capo.
He laughs as he puts peanut butter on his sandwich, and I must admit that he doesn’t seem very intimidating.
The second man—who looks more like a boy—holds an orange in his raised hand, aimed at the first man.
By the looks of it, he’s no older than twenty and dressed similarly to the first man, though he wears a light blue shirt instead of the flannel.
His tanned skin, wavy dark hair, and green eyes look vaguely familiar, though I’m sure I’ve never met him before.
The third man sits on a barstool, watching the other two with a smile that shows off his perfectly straight, white teeth.
His dark buzz-cut and cleanly shaven face give him a professional look, which is accentuated by his navy slacks and white collared shirt.
His rounded face and blue eyes can only be described as cold, though he looks friendly enough.
Ryder clears his throat, effectively getting each man’s attention.
They turn to face us, excited to see Ryder, then confused once their eyes drop to me. The first man stops making his sandwich, the second lowers the orange in his hand, and the third straightens his back.
“Boys,” Ryder greets. “Meet Elli.”
I’m not sure what I thought they’d do, but for some reason, I’m caught off guard when each man smiles kindly at me, mumbling greetings.
Ryder points to the first man. “This is Donovan Riley.” His hand moves to the second man, “Alec Tonis,” then to the third man, “and Kade Manning.”
“It’s nice to meet you all,” I say, and the words sound just as awkward as I feel.
Ryder continues his introductions. “Donovan is the head of security—”
“So, I’m the guy you need to kill if you want to break out of here,” Donovan says, a playful smile plastered on his face.
“What the hell, Don?” Ryder’s voice is sharp, and Donovan’s expression immediately sobers.
Despite my initial apprehension about coming downstairs, I can’t help but laugh at the reaction.
All four men turn to me.
“It’s okay, Ryder,” I assure him, grateful to Donovan for breaking the ice. “Thanks for the tip. I’ll have to keep it in mind when I’m planning my big escape.”
Donovan grins spiritedly.
Ryder shakes his head, but there’s a small grin on his face as he points to the next man.
“Kade runs all of our cybersecurity.” Ryder turns to the last capo. “And Alec runs the day-to-day life of the base. He’s in charge of all the boring stuff no one else wants to do, but we give him a capo title to make him feel like he’s doing something important.”
Alec flips him off, but his smile is unmoving. “I might just accidentally forget to have your kitchen stocked next month.”
“As if I actually eat the crap you’ve been stocking lately. Not all of us are twenty-one.”
In one fluid motion, Alec throws the orange at Ryder, who ducks with lightning-fast reflexes, causing the fruit to fly into the hallway.
“Hey!” another voice calls, and we all turn to see a pissed-off Jay enter the room, holding the fruit and rubbing a red spot on his head. “What the hell was that for?”
“Sorry, Uncle Jay!” Alec makes a face, his hand cupping the back of his neck in a gesture that only makes him look younger.
Uncle Jay?
That’s why Alec looks so familiar. He and Jay have the exact same dark hair and dull green eyes. In fact, if someone told me Jay was Alec’s father, I’d believe them in a heartbeat.
The room is filled with laughter, and Jay rolls his eyes, muttering something about how he’d let them all starve.
The guys start talking among themselves, and I look at Ryder. “Thank you.”
He gives me a half-smile. “Anytime, Elli.”