CHAPTER NINE
LILIANA
Blind panic never gets you anywhere.
In my worst moments, I always hear my mother’s voice in my ear, guiding me down the right path. She might infuriate me more than anyone else in the planet, but she’s also the smartest person I know and she’s never led me astray.
In light of Carlos’s revelations, I force myself to calm down. And then I begin making a plan. I say goodbye to him and apologize for getting him into this mess in the first place. The guilt over what he had to endure will forever hunt me but I can’t dwell on that right now.
He only lets me go after I promise to call him once I arrive at my motel. He wanted to follow me but I assured him it wasn’t necessary. I’m not going to the motel to stay. I just need to pack up my things, laptop, change of clothes and then I’m out of here.
I’ll head back home to my mother and daughter and then we’re leaving that town as well. Carlos is right. Nowhere in this city is safe, I don’t even trust the state to be safe anymore. We need to get out of New Jersey, far far away from Rafaelle Vitale’s reach.
The rest of my meagre savings can get us a fresh start somewhere else. We’ll be dirt poor but at least we’ll still be alive and together.
He can never find out about my daughter.
I have no idea how I’ll explain all this to my mother. And I don’t know how I’m going to convince her to leave but I have no choice. He could always track me to her and then who knows what he’ll do. The sight of the stubs on Carlos’s hand makes me feel sick once again.
I nearly stumble as I walk but I stand upright, walking as fast as my legs can carry me. The motel is only ten minutes away. I just need to get in and out and then leave.
I’m so focused on the thoughts running through my head that I don’t hear the footsteps until it’s too late.
Three pairs follow me and when they become louder and more incessant, my heart starts to race.
Survival instincts have me breaking into a run and when I hear them following, I start to scream.
“Help!”
It’s no use though. The sidewalk is mostly deserted and this is a seedy area. The people here are more likely to turn away and ignore me than help.
I turn a corner and catch sight of the motel.
Hope flares within my chest as I think of the possibility of making it there before my captors catch up to me.
But I don’t notice a small stone in the middle of the road.
I trip and immediately go down. Pain shoots up my knee and that mixed up with the fear has my eyes welling up with tears.
I turn towards my attackers, still on the ground. Reaching for the stone that tripped me, I brandish it like a weapon, knowing deep down it’s no use.
“Stay away from me!” I yell, my tone hysterical.
There are three men, two of them dressed in dark suits. The one in front is dressed super casually in a t-shirt and jeans. He has dark eyes and even darker hair and there’s something familiar about him but I’m too scared to place it.
“Please. I don’t have any money.”
The one with dark hair advances on me, a frown on his face. There’s nothing threatening in his expression but them chasing me down the street isn’t exactly non-threatening behavior.
“This isn’t about money, Liliana,” he says gently.
My heart skips a beat, “How do you know my name?”
He lifts both of his hands up carefully, “I’m not going to hurt you, just relax.”
He’s still walking towards me so I decide to launch the rock in my hand at his face. I’ve always had impeccable aim and it meets its mark. The rock hits the side of his forehead. He grunts in pain, his hand reaching up to feel the area. Satisfaction fills me when I sight blood.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” he growls.
His expression switches to one that has me inching backwards, the satisfaction dimming.
“Leave me alone!” I cry.
He manages to grab me though, dragging me through the ground by the leg and pulling me close.
“This wasn’t supposed to be difficult,” he mutters. “Just go to sleep, Liliana.”
I feel his hand connecting with my neck and in the next moment, my vision goes black.
* * *
When I come to, I feel myself being lifted in the air. I keep my eyes shut so I don’t alert the men holding me to the fact that I’m consciousness. The fact that I woke up at all means they don’t plan to kill me. At least not immediately.
I hold on to that hope, wondering what they could want from me.
The person carrying smells really good, like vanilla and an underlying masculine scent.
For some reason my brain decides to snag onto that fact even in this dangerous situation.
His footsteps are loud against the floors as he walks to God knows where.
A few seconds later, I’m being deposited onto something soft and warm. A bed.
“Aren’t you going to say anything?” a voice drawls.
It’s the man from earlier, the one that knocked me out.
There’s no reply to the question I’m guessing is aimed at the man that carried me. But I do hear them leave, stepping outside the room and shutting the door. Their voices drift over in spite of it, low and controlled.
“Why the fuck is she hurt?”
The venom in the tone of this new man has my eyes fluttering open in shock. He sounds murderous. I strain my ears, trying to catch more of the conversation.
“Are you kidding me? Look at what she did to my head, fratello!” my captor snaps. “She threw a rock at me. Why the hell do you care?”
The murmured reply is too low for me to hear but I’m done listening. I decide to take stock of my surroundings. Rising to my feet, I look around the room and the sight that meets me has me wanting to faint for the second time.
I know this room. I’ve seen it in my dreams. I’ve thought about it so many times in the past year. And yet, it can’t be. It’s just a coincidence. Nothing but a sick twisted coincidence. I don’t know these walls. I don’t know recognize the bed and I definitely don’t remember the room at all.
I look around wildly, trying to find some type of weapon, something to arm myself with.
Especially because I’m starting to realize exactly who kidnapped me. And if it’s really him, I’m going to be dead soon enough. In the end, I grab a lamp on the bedside table, holding it up as my heart beats wildly in my chest.
Please, please, please don’t be him.
I’d rather it be anyone else but him.
I wait for the door to open it again and once it does a couple seconds later, my worst fears are confirmed.
Rafaelle Vitale is my worst nightmare made flesh. And despite the heavy weight of the lamp in my hand, cold fear paralyzes me to the spot. My first thought is how I could have ever allowed myself to think he was anything but a monster.
Even now in his casual clothes, wearing joggers and a black t-shirt that stretches across his shoulders, leaving most of his arms bare and his tattoos in full view. Rafaelle looks every bit like a king of the underworld.
And now that I’m in his home, I’m sure I’ll burn from the force of his depravity.
He stares at me for a long moment. That unnerving dark stare. I can’t believe I missed it. I can’t believe a part of me yearned for this man in front of me. I was so na?ve, so stupid.
My spine jerks when his rough deep voice starts, “Aren’t you getting tired of holding that up, little siren? I believe you’ve done enough damage for one day.”
I blink. He sounds so normal. Almost casual. My vision turns hazy with anger and I remember the circumstances that brought me here in the first place. I remember I need to fight. The lamp in my hand does grows heavy and I decide I’d very much like to do some damage to his face as well.
He must read the resolution on my face. Lightning fast, he’s on me, pushing me against the wall before I can blink. He grabs the lamp in my hand, raising it even higher while his dark gaze meets mine.
“Get the fuck off me,” I snap, pushing him back although it does no good.
He crowds me with his body and my traitorous mind chooses this exact moment to remind me exactly what happened over a year ago up against this very wall.
Rafaelle’s eyes gleam as he notes the expression on my face. I know he can tell exactly what I’m thinking about. He steps back once, twice, putting some distance between us and giving me some much-needed breathing room. I exhale softly, trying to calm my racing heart.
“That’s right. Take a breath, Liliana. And then we can talk like civilized people,” he says to me.
“Civilized people?!” My voice comes out shrill and high pitched. “You kidnapped me.”
He pauses, “Technically when the plan was set in motion, I didn’t think it was going to be you.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
He doesn’t reply, relapsing into unnerving silence as he watches me for a bit. I try my best not to fidget under his gaze.
“Why are you so angry?” he eventually says. “Asides the kidnap. I would like to point out that I’m the injured party in this situation. I have every reason to be pissed at you.”
Oh my God, he’s insane.
“What is wrong with you?” I spit out.
His voice lowers with a dark edge, “You fucking disappeared! Why?”
“None of your business.”
He exhales an exasperated breath.
“Just let me go, Rafaelle. Please,” I try to appeal to some sort of humanity in his twisted heart.
But I should have known he doesn’t have one. Not a heart and certainly no humanity.
“You’re not going anywhere, Liliana. Not until I say so. But it’s certainly nice to hear you beg.”
I meet his gaze with all the bitterness welling up inside me.
“I hate you! You’re a monster!”
“And yet you slept with a monster so what does that make you?” he retorts.
“Fuck you, Rafaelle. Get out! If I can’t leave, then the least you can do is leave me alone. I don’t want to see your face and I want nothing to do with you. Get the fuck out!” I say hysterically.
He’s still so fucking calm, although I can see the rage underneath the exterior in his eyes. His gaze holds mine for a beat, then he turns around and walks out of the room without another word. I exhale in relief once he’s gone.
But I know it’s only a temporary respite. He’ll be back.
I’m not sure how much time passes before I hear the door handle turning, alerting me to someone’s arrival.
Rafaelle walks through the door carrying a first aid kit in his hand.
I’d been sitting on the edge of the bed, but I climb in further at the sight of him, fear rushing at my chest. At least I’m finally reacting appropriately to him.
But it’s pretty clear from the frown on his face that he doesn’t like it one bit.
“What do you want now?” I ask, calmer after being left alone for so long.
I need to be smart about this. Gather information and weigh my chances of getting out alive.
He shakes the box in his hand like it holds all the answers before pointing at my bruised knee. The material of my leggings is ripped and there’s a gash there that’s been stinging for a bit. It’s only a mild pain though, easy to ignore in the face of my current predicament.
“I’m fine. I don’t need your help.”
He doesn’t reply. His hand latches onto my foot and he drags me easily back to the edge of the bed. I sit as still as possible, barely moving as he crouches down in front of me.
“Where’s my phone?”
No reply. He opens the box, pulling out some ointment and a bandage. I hiss in pain when he applies the ointment.
“Don’t be a baby,” he murmurs, working efficiently at cleaning the gash and then closing it up with a bandage.
He’s very gentle with the task, gentle enough that I feel something stirring in my chest. Something I know I have quash.
“Who was that man?” I ask curiously. “The one I made bleed.”
His lips twitch, light humor in his eyes, “My brother.”
Ah. That explains the resemblance. He finishes with my wound but doesn’t look up.
When he speaks, his voice is soft but leashed, “Don’t do that again.”
“Do what?”
“What you did earlier. Don’t talk to me like I’m nothing,” he says, finally looking up at me. I hate what I see in his eyes. I hate the way it stirs at my chest. I want to reach inwards and seek out even more of it. “It made me angry, Liliana. Bad things happen when I get angry. Don’t do it again.”
I swallow softly, his voice penetrating my veins, chilling me from the inside out.
“Are you going to let me leave?” I decide to ask.
“No. Would you like to have dinner?”
“I’d rather starve.”
His jaw clenches and he rises to his feet, heading for the door.
“Rafaelle,” I call just before he opens it. He pauses but doesn’t turn around to look at me. “Are you going to kill me?”
It takes him a long moment before he replies. When he does, his voice is grating.
“I wish I fucking could.”