Gio

“Shut him up.” Our captor demands. At the order, the other man is quick to give Johnny a blow to the head.

“Stop!” I shout, the words leave my mouth instinctually. I look up to our captor pleadingly. It seems he had all the power in this room.

“I meant with some tape.” he says, though he doesn’t look at all bothered by the situation.

The bigger man shrugs and quickly grabs the roll of duct tape and covers Johnny’s mouth with a strip.

“Time for that chat?” he asks, lending a hand to help me up, though I didn’t think I had much of an option here.

I’m pretty sure if I say no he’ll just kill us.

His smirk is back. It seems like he’s happy to talk to me, but when it comes to my brother or cousin he’s cold. I’m the only thing keeping us alive right now, I need to play his game and win.

He leads me over to the bar, pulling out a stool and gesturing for me to sit. I comply. The key to winning is knowing when to give and when to fight.

I steel my spine and try to put on a neutral face.

He moves behind the bar, reaching up to the top shelf and grabbing a pricey bottle of whiskey. Not quite my taste. I prefer fruity frozen drinks over straight hard liquor. He grabs two low ball glasses and sets them on the bar in front of me.

“Drink?” he asks, lifting the bottle slightly.

“No, thanks.”

“Whiskey it is then.” He fills both glasses with two fingers' worth of the amber liquid.

Note to self, my answers don’t matter here.

“Saluti,” he says, raising the glasses, his eyes locked on mine waiting for me to join him.

I’m pretty sure the word he uses is Italian. I pick up the glass, eyeing it suspiciously. “Cheers,” I responded, raising mine and taking a sip. The liquor burns its way down my throat and I try my best not to cough. I hate whiskey.

Drinking with this man, who my family just tried to rob, seems dangerous.

But he’s playing a game, and you have to play the game to win.

I steal a glance over my shoulder at Johnny and Rob. I’m secretly pleading for them to let me handle this.

“Eyes on me, sweetheart.”

I whip my head back to look at him. “I bet that’s what you say to all the girls.”

A wide grin spread on his face. He looks like he’s getting off on this back and forth. I’m hoping it’s not because he wants a fight before he kills me.

He takes another swig from the glass, emptying it.

“So tell me, why in hell are you trying to rob me.”

“Right to the point.” I note.

“Not trying to waste time here.”

“You’re Italian?” I ask, drawing his attention off of the subject at hand.

“I ask the questions here. But yes, you don’t already know that?”

“No, I didn’t.” I swirl the remaining whiskey around in my glass.

He ponders this for a moment. “What did you know before you came here?”