24
Lia
It’s far too late—or too early—when I startle awake, cursing myself for having fallen asleep in the first place.
How the hell was I even able to close my eyes, with all the fear coursing through my body?
The long day at the diner made me so tired I succumbed to sleep, even though I was planning on staying awake for at least three hours, until I could be reasonably sure that Debbie was fast asleep.
It’s now nearly five, and she’ll be up in an hour.
Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!
Oh, well. I don’t have a choice. But I do need to put all the chances on my side.
Tearing myself away from the little girl who’s still sleeping soundly, I creep to the kitchenette and grab a large steak knife. Then I return to the couch, quickly pack what few belongings we have into a bag, get dressed, and pick up my sleeping girl.
It’s a little awkward to hold her in the same arm that’s also clutching the knife, but I don’t really have a choice, if I want to keep my other hand free to unhook Debbie’s necklace. I leave the bag in the living room, deciding to grab it on the way out, if everything goes to plan.
It’s a warm night, but I’m freezing as I enter Debbie’s bedroom, gritting my teeth to keep them from chattering. Grasping the knife so hard it feels like the handle will leave permanent indents against my fingers, I draw near the bed, then start fumbling with the clasp.
“Hmm… Wha… what are you doing?”
Fuck!
Debbie’s awoken abruptly, and she throws out a hand, trying to latch onto me. I step back hurriedly, holding the knife threateningly.
“Get up,” I growl. “Get the fuck up!”
Aurora stirs in my arms. Fuck! I can feel the whole plan slowly but surely fall apart as Debbie eyes the knife fearlessly.
“You were going to rob me?” she snarls. “Was that what you were going to do, you bitch? You’re trying to rob me?”
“No,” I hiss out, as Aurora wakens with a whine. “You’re wrong.”
Her face relaxes just a touch before I add, “I’m not trying. I am going to rob you. Now get up!”
“Mama,” whimpers Aurora, as I clutch her to me while waving the knife at Debbie. “What you doin’, mama?”
“Shh, baby, it’s alright,” I croon into her ear, before making my voice harsh as I direct it at Debbie. “Don’t make me say it again.”
“What are you going to do with that?” she taunts me, sitting up all the way. “I don’t believe for a second you’d use it.”
“Well, you believe wrong,” I say harshly. “Why do you think I was on the run, anyway?”
She blinks at me in confusion.
“My husband didn’t abuse me,” I lie wildly. “I killed him!”
“Mama?” questions Aurora in confusion. “Papa?”
I’ll explain later. I’ll explain later, little Aurora. I’ll explain later!
But how do you explain to your two-year-old daughter that there’s a good reason for holding your employer at knifepoint, and taking her money?
I have to force myself to remember why I’m doing it. Force myself to remember the danger that threatens us if we stay, because when I see my little girl’s eyes as they stare at me in utter confusion—like she doesn’t even know me—it’s all I can do to not fall apart.
My voice is harsher than ever as I speak once more to Debbie. “Well, what the fuck are you waiting for? Get the fuck up!”
At last she seems to take me seriously. I breathe out in relief when I see her shake as she rises up, then slowly walks toward the door.
“Can I at least put something on?” she grumbles. “I’m only wearing a shirt.”
“Well, your shirt will have to do,” I grit out, though I feel guilty about forcing her out of the house with her panties visible. Not guilty enough to allow her the chance to outsmart me, though. “You can grab the sheet from the couch on the way out.”
Muttering a few curse words, she walks out to the living room, wraps the sheet around herself, then makes her way to the front door.
I keep the knife against her back as she walks slowly toward the diner on the next block.
Aurora has fallen still against my chest, but I can tell she’s awake.
Self-loathing rips through me, but I force myself to focus on survival, refusing to give in to the urge to reassure her.
If reassuring her is even possible at this point.
“You’re not going to take all my savings,” she chokes out, pausing at the door. “I’ve been saving all my life. You can’t take it all away.”
“I’m going to take what you owe me,” I say flatly. “All the wages you’ve been withholding.”
“I haven’t been withholding anything!” she snaps, whipping around suddenly, which causes Aurora to shiver in my arms. “I’ve been feeding you, and letting you sleep on my couch!”
“And withholding wages,” I growl, pressing the tip of my knife into her neck. “There’s a name for what you’ve been doing, Debbie. Now turn the fuck around and open the door.”
The flicker of fear in her eyes melts as suddenly as it appears, when her eyes take in Aurora.
“You wouldn’t hurt me in front of your daughter,” she says, folding her arms combatively.
“I’d do a lot more for my daughter,” I hiss. “I’d even kill you.”
Her arms fall to her side as she stares at me, probably trying to find any sign that I’m lying. But I hold her gaze, and in that moment, I realize I could kill her. I’m desperate enough to do just about anything to get away from the threat Aurora hinted at.
She must see the glint of desperation in my eye, because she turns around slowly. “How much money, exactly, do you think I owe you?” she mumbles, her hand shaking as she unlocks the door.
I open my mouth, then close it, unwilling to answer the number that’s at the tip of my tongue.
Forty dollars.
She’d think I was insane for threatening her with a knife over forty dollars. And she owes me so much more than that. She owes me a month of wages. But how much is a month of wages?
God, I wish I wasn’t so sheltered. I wish I’d taken it upon myself to learn the first thing about living in this world, rather than leaving my fate so entirely at the hands of first my father, and then my husband.
“We’ll see what’s in the cash box,” I say gruffly.
She lets out a small whimper when I nudge her with the tip of the knife to make her move faster. She opens the door and walks in, then stops so suddenly I nearly stab her by accident.
“What… the… fuck!”
The lights are on, although the place doesn’t open for another hour.
And at the far table, two men are sitting.
The first one, I recognize right away, because he’s facing in our direction.
He’s wearing a suit and a fedora, and there’s a glass of whiskey in front of him, despite the fact that we’re not licensed to serve alcohol.
But it’s clearly his own supply. Stubble pricks at his chin, and when he turns his piercing black eyes up to us, Aurora lets out a chirp.
“Boom boom! Boom boom!”
“Hello, Lia,” he smirks. “Long time no see.”
Fuck.
“Coltello,” I mutter, hanging back from the don’s underboss. “Guess you’ve come to take me back to Moretti?”
“Something like that,” he says, downing the rest of his drink. “Ready to go?”
I whip the knife away from Debbie, who lets out an audible sigh, and wave it threateningly at Coltello instead. “I’m not going anywhere,” I snap. “So fuck off.”
His smirk deepens. “Look at that. Our little Lia’s got spunk, huh? I’m sure your husband will appreciate hearing about that, right before he rips you to shreds.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Debbie’s mouth hanging open. “Your… your husband? But you told me… you told me he’s dead!”
There’s a loud chuckle, and the man sitting across from Coltello turns around. When I see him, my stomach sinks to the ground.
Fuck! I’m fucked now!
If some part of me had hoped I stood a chance against Coltello, I know it’s no use with Logan. Not because he’s stronger than Coltello, though he sure looks like he is. But because there’s no way I could ever resist him.
Even now, as he slowly stands up, I stumble backward, completely destabilized. It’s all I can do to hold onto the knife with one hand, and Aurora with the other.
I can barely stand to look up at him as he walks over to me, and when I do, his cruel eyes burn me.
Fuck, I’ve never seen him look so cruel.
“Logan…” I stammer. “Please, Logan…”
He eats up the distance between us, and by the time he’s standing in front of me, his warmth radiating off my skin, I’m a shivering mess. I can’t even do a thing as he takes the knife from my hand, his smile just as cruel as his eyes.
“Missed me?” he purrs.
“Please, Logan.” I try my best to blink away my tears. “Please, I did it… I did it for Aurora…”
“Uh huh.” I shiver even harder when he rests his hand on the small of my back, prompting me forward. Then Aurora reaches out her arms for him with a broad smile, chirping, “Piggyback ride! Piggyback ride!”
“Shh, baby,” I whisper. “Shhh.”
Another glance at him, and I’m sent into a turmoil of emotion as I note his warm glance when his eyes meet hers, before he turns them back to me. They’re so harsh that I wonder if I imagined the look he spared my daughter.
“Sit,” he invites quietly, as he settles back in his chair.
There are only two chairs at the table, and I look around hesitatingly, before I feel him start to push me down into his lap.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Debbie stare, fear and confusion battling it out in her eyes.
Some twisted sort of pride keeps me from allowing Logan to pull me all the way down.
“Sit your ass here,” he growls, “or I’ll have you lying over my knee instead.”
I’m far too scared to be embarrassed, giving in at last to Logan’s insistent hands, but bile rises up in my throat when Coltello chuckles.
“Cute,” he says. “I’d be happy to watch.” I bite down on a whimper when Logan’s arm squeezes my waist. “But then I’m bringing her back,” adds the underboss.
“Already told you,” says Logan gruffly, “you’re not taking her.”
“Oh yeah?” answers Coltello, as I allow myself to feel a pinprick of hope. “I have a feeling Wells will have something to say about that.”