Chapter 15 – Serena
Lugging the container of foul-smelling sea animals up the steps, I focused on not slipping. It was bad enough to be sweating bullets, sporting a deep suntan that would redden any minute, and carry the briny substance to be turned into bait. I didn’t want to wear the mess on top of that.
I avoided looking at the far end of the gravel parking lot where I last saw the men who’d abducted me. I wasn’t prone to panic attacks, but I wasn’t tempting one either.
Inside the tackle shop, the little bell above the door chimed, announcing my arrival.
Tourists, dressed in sporting equipment, sipped their coffee.
These would board a villager’s vessel and go out with the afternoon tide.
Their guided fishing tour would last all night, and at dawn, they would come back, stinking and hopefully happy.
“Make sure she’s gassed up. Thank ya, sweetheart,” a Texan drawl said.
I shot a warning look to where Evangelia stood behind the tiller. Her eyes weren’t as red today. But the dark circles under them said she’d not slept well again.
I didn’t know how to help her. Losing one of my brothers was unfathomable.
Guilt bubbled in my chest. If there was a chance to pass a message back home to the boys, it was the right thing to do.
The strangest part about this kidnapping was that contacting my family and using them as a means of escape had never been a primary thought.
What was I going to do? Call them? They would show up here with an army of Made Men, shoot up the village, and take me home—where I would forever be safe.
Calling them to tell them I was fine was so far back on my list, it hadn’t crossed my mind until Iakovos’s funeral.
But ever since that sorrowful church service, I learned to squash the tiny voice of guilt.
I wasn’t in danger, so why did my brothers need to know?
I’m going to have to tell them eventually.
And then, I would never be allowed to leave Chicago again.
“Lord! That’s good coffee.” The Texan slapped his thigh.
The accent felt...fake.
I set my load down in the back and stood by Evangelia.
I wasn’t allowed to work the counter or, for that matter, to interact with customers.
And it wasn’t because the non-locals might ask about the mostly faded marks on my face.
It was the chance I might pass a message for help and beg them for a ride out of town. My hosts were smart.
But I risked their wrath by touching the girl’s wrist and tugging her into the back. “Help me scoop out the sea critters?”
Evangelia sighed. “You’re going to have to learn to chop the crab yourself, Serena.”
I pulled her along, and when we were out of earshot, I jerked my chin. “Everything okay out there?”
She waved her hand. “Yeah, yeah, no worries.”
“Who is he?” I pressed.
“Um, some rich guy who comes into the marina on his boat for the guided fishing trip. This is his fourth voyage with us.”
Most customers drove to the remote location. This place wasn’t advertised nearly as well as it could have been, but part of me guessed that was by design. The fewer strangers poking around the better.
“What’s his name?” I peered around the door to look at the man. That scruff was a few days old, but the man underneath looked vaguely familiar.
“Tom Smithfield.”
I rubbed my chin on the back of my arm. Something was fishy, and it wasn’t the damn, stinking bait.
I let Evangelia return to the register and her customers, while I tinkered in the back.
When Leandros came to collect the fishermen, I followed them out.
Keeping a distance, I watched and waited.
The more I studied the Texan, the more I felt the sense that he wasn’t who he said he was.
What am I doing? I pushed a rock about with the toe of my sneaker. So what if the Texan was here under an alias? Lots of people did that for privacy reasons. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was right, and I wanted to know!
To prove to myself that I wasn’t crazy.
It took another half hour for them to load and leave.
After the tourists departed, I lingered around the marina, pretending to organize tackle boxes until I spotted Tom’s boat—a sleek white vessel with tinted windows that screamed money.
More money than your average fishing enthusiast might spend, considering most of the adventurers came here because these trips were a steal of a deal.
The cars and trucks in the marina were older models, the tourists here on a fixed budget.
I glanced over my shoulder. No one was watching. Perfect.
Casually, I made my way down the dock, my footsteps light against the wooden planks. The boat was named Lady Luck in fancy script—how original. I climbed aboard, careful not to make any noise. The cabin door was locked, but the deck offered plenty to investigate.
This was madness.
There was no stopping it. I knew in my gut that I was right. And if the owner was here under a false name, what else was fake about him? Was he really here to fish? Suspicion raced through me.
I rifled through a tackle box, finding nothing unusual, then spotted a leather satchel tucked beneath a bench. Just as I reached for it, I heard footsteps on the dock.
“Serena!” Evangelia’s urgent whisper carried across the water. “What the hell are you doing?”
I froze, my heart hammering against my ribs like a prisoner desperate for escape. Abandoning the satchel, I straightened up and plastered an innocent smile across my face.
“Just admiring the boat,” I called back softly, trying to sound casual despite the adrenaline coursing through my veins.
Evangelia’s eyes widened in panic as she gestured frantically for me to get off the vessel. “Are you insane? This isn’t some game. If they catch you—”
“They won’t,” I assured her, bending for the satchel. “I just wanted to see—”
“You don’t need to see anything,” she hissed.
There was a passport, United States and well-worn. I flipped it open.
David Parker.
And then, it clicked. One of the biggest land developers in the country.
From the lazy hours in my brother’s Chicago home, with nothing better to do, I spent my days flipping through magazines.
They weren’t all gossip rags, but David was in many of those as well as the business publications.
He dated actresses and models; he raised money at galas; and he built modern cities with self-containing amenities.
I knew his history pretty damn well for never having met the man.
“See this!” I held up the passport in triumph.
“If he comes back—” Evangelia started.
A darker voice cut her off. “If he has cameras, you’re screwed.”
I whipped around to see the mobster strolling down the dock.
“He doesn’t,” I gulped. “I checked.”
“Odd thing for him to leave lying on his deck then,” Markos countered.
I shrugged. “Big players get cocky.”
It was as if Sandro was in my head. I could hear him now, yelling at Leo to stay under the radar after my brother made the tabloids.
Shaking off the rush of homesickness, I tucked the passport back into the satchel, replaced it exactly how it was, and scrambled to the edge of the boat, nearly slipping in my haste.
“You two are in big trouble.” Markos’s stern features matched his words.
“It was all me!” I rushed to say, hopping onto the dock.
Markos crossed his arms over his chest, pinning me with a hard look. He didn’t even spare a glance at the quaking Evangelia as he spoke.
“Eva, go back to the bait shop and close up.”
Her eyes darted nervously between Markos and me. I gave her an encouraging nod. When she scampered away, I planted my hands on my hips and faced the beast of a man.
“You didn’t have to scare her.”
“What did you find?” Markos countered.
Surprise flashed through me. “Nothing really. Just that he’s on a fishing expedition with a fake name.”
“Who is he?”
As if this mobster really cared.... “Look, it was just a hunch. I followed it for my own sake. I’m not trying to escape or—”
“Who is he, Serena?”
“David Parker,” I said quickly, glancing back at the Lady Luck. “He’s a land developer.”
Markos nodded. His face was an unreadable mask. “And are you in the habit of sneaking around?”
I gave him a shrug. “What can I say, I’m bored. When that happens, I get nosey.”
My attempt to downplay my actions seemed to have the opposite effect. Markos took a step forward.
Which made me scoot backward.
His voice was rough and husky. “Why would a guest of the village—”
I snorted and took several more steps back.
“—take it upon herself to see who charters boats here? What are you up to, Serena? Hmm?”
“Nothing!” I insisted.
Merda! I needed him to believe me. What would he do if he believed I was a threat? So far, my captors had done nothing worse than make me prepare bait and weed gardens, but when mobsters felt threatened...oh, madonna!
Markos continued to prowl forward, and I kept the distance as I moved away. Until my foot met with air instead of dock. Windmilling my arms, I wailed and tipped back.
Markos pounced, catching me around the shoulder and...throat. His grip was gentle, but the touch was pure dominance.
“There’s no leaving, prinkípissa. You’re stuck here,” he said with menace in his voice.
My stomach did a little flip of excitement—the opposite reaction to what it should have had.
“Okay,” I croaked. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Wrong. I’m taking you to town.” Markos’s thumb pressed against my pulse, feeling the thunder of my heart. “I might have use for you after all.”
I wet my lips.
His gaze dropped. Those blue eyes darkened, the sea blue turning stormy.
“Shower and change. I’ll pick you up in a half hour.” He pulled me forward but didn’t move away.
Pressed flush to his body, I looked up into his eyes, unable to break away from the swirling darkness there.
He must have felt it too, because he didn’t even flinch. Heat licked my veins, and a needy little ache formed in the most inconvenient place.
“Run away, little prinkípissa,” he growled.