13. Ariana
13
ARIANA
I stare blindly at the paper in my hand.
I just want to shrink away, drown into the bed, and disappear. I’m not well, whatever the doctor might say. I hardly slept, and when I did, nightmares flooded my mind, jerking me out of my restless sleep. Nobody knows because I’m quiet. I don’t call out, I don’t stir and kick in my bed, but I wake up with a soft gasp as if I’m finally allowed a breath after being waterboarded.
Worst of all is how the nightmares weren’t about yesterday, or about Franco and the time I spent in that dungeon. They were all about that night twelve years ago when he came for me.
I compartmentalized that night and packed it away so deep in me, the memories are only embers, glowing with the occasional trigger I’ve never allowed to catch flame. But the job I was on before Franco came for me was like a ball of oxygen waiting to explode. I’ve trained to separate my body from my mind, but now, after all these weeks and everything that’s happened, my systems are failing, and I’m broken.
If my team knew my history with Franco, they would never have let me on the job in the first place. There was always the risk of running into him, exactly as I have. But I’m a closed book. I’ve learned long ago to keep my mouth shut. You can tell your team everything…except how personal a job—a vendetta—really is.
Worst of all is yesterday, I was in Dominic’s arms, and he felt so unexpectedly safe. Nobody has ever held me like this, least of all a man. I’ve never allowed one close, not after what Franco did to me.
And now, he’s brought me flowers. Since when does a kind man with caring eyes and gentle hands trigger me to tears?
Thank God his brother burst in like a storm cloud, making me want to run for shelter. Now these two powerful and built men, dressed impeccably in suits, growl at each other over my bed as if they’re fighting over who will have me first.
I’m under no illusion here. These men are from the same stock as Franco Fiore: Mafia. Just on this side of the pond.
Il Consiglio. There were more brothers in that warehouse yesterday, but for the life of me, I can’t place them as a family. And this is for my life. This crime ring has somehow crossed swords with Franco Fiore, and in the bigger scheme of things, with Emilio Randazzo.
The obvious connection is Gigi and Carla Trapani, but I’m not sure how they’re connected to these men. I suspect there’s history here nobody is aware of. What I won’t give for a bit of Interpol intel right now, or just access to a computer. Never mind. Here I’m just as cut off from the world as I’ve been with Franco.
They’re looking for Gabriella Scalera. Beyond actually being her, which is impossible, I have no illusions that I’m nothing but an inconvenience—a big one. If I’m not their little lost sister, I’m as good as dead.
With a deep breath, I try to read the DNA test’s instructions, needing to distract myself and get this over and done with so they can leave. Something caused a rift between these brothers within seconds, and as much as I try to read the room, I don’t know them well enough to get how this happened without either of them speaking a single word.
At first, Dominic has protected me from Matteo’s onslaught of questions, but now he’s slumped in the chair, looking murderous. Matteo is just standing there, hovering over me, indecisive, as if he needs someone to hold his hand as he does this test. Men . That someone can be so bamboozled by a stupid swab.
“It’s not complicated,” I say, forcing myself to slip back into the type of side character with zero importance, someone who will appease them and buy me time. “You each take a swab, roll it inside your inner cheek for a minute. I do the same with my own swab. We seal them in these different colored tubes to prevent cross-contamination of the sample, and then you send it off.” My eyes run down all the way to the last lines. “Results are usually ready within three to five working days. For expedited results, call this number?—”
“We’re going to expedite the living fuck out of these tests,” Dominic grunts as he tears open a foil package and extracts a long, cotton-tipped stick. “If I could have results today, I would.”
He hands me mine, and I obediently rub away, knowing that my days are, yet again, numbered. Once these results are back as negative, I’m just a pair of eyes that witnessed crimes no human should. A woman, on top of it all, one who can easily disappear into sex trafficking, especially now I’m an illegal. I bet Il Consiglio is as deep into such depravity as Randazzo was. I don’t even want to know where Franco Fiore planned to lead the operations.
Franco is dead.
My stomach tightens. I still can’t believe it.
When Dominic picks up the other test packets and pulls out the swabs for my side of the DNA sample, I do what I need to do. Five tests equal five swabs. It’s all a big excessive but I say nothing.
“I’ll get the others to do theirs and then get it to the lab today,” he says in explanation. “If we pay them enough, we might even have the results tomorrow.”
Matteo closes his test tube holding his swab, pushes it back into the box, and hands it over to Dominic.
The tension between the brothers is as thick as frozen butter, and I drop my gaze to my lap, not wanting them to look at me. They have many questions, but I only have one: how on earth am I going to escape my new prison and get back to Italy?
Dominic stands and reaches for my shoulder to give me soft squeeze. I don’t flinch away from his touch, not like when Matteo wanted to stick his hand out to me and I signaled nobody is laying a hand on me, not even in a polite greeting.
It’s too soon. I’m not ready. I’ve had no time to think or order my thoughts about how I’m going to get out of this mess. I need to escape this place and make my way to the nearest police station. And all this without money, a phone, or proper clothes. With those tests going to the lab, there’s a ticking time bomb in the room. Once they have the results, I’m done for.
They won’t keep me alive once they know my truth. I, after all, know theirs, and in the Mafia, witnesses never get to tell the story. I don’t have a minute to lose.
Dominic sighs and nods to his brother. This meeting was swift, but it’s over. Matteo gives a nod, sweeps me with a glance, and with a sigh, walks out.
“Try to rest,” Dominic says as he makes his way to the door, the tests in his hands. “I’ll see you later, Ariana.”
No, you won’t.