Bitter Pledge (Falsone Crime Family)

“Please, honey, go with Rolando. He’s taking you back downstairs.”

My throat clenched shut. “Daddy. Please, no.”

“I’m sorry, honey. It’s for your own good. Please don’t make this hard.”

“Not that room again. Please, don’t. I’ve been good. I’ve done everything you asked.” Except I broke into his office and stole information from his safe, but I didn’t think he knew about that. Otherwise, I’d be dead.

“Rolando,” Dad said sharply, and Rolando came at me.

I tried to run. It was stupid. I knew it would only make it worse. Rolando caught my wrist and dragged me toward him. I swung my hand at his face but he ducked it, jabbed me once in the gut, and threw me over his shoulder. I coughed, trying to catch my breath as he lugged me down into the basement.

I saw my father watching with a frown on his lips as Rolando took me into the darkness.

* * *

Mal

I crept up to the house real slow. Kept it easy and quiet. My side ached, but that couldn’t be helped. Damn stab wound. Life would be easier without it.

The fence was sturdy and well made. Didn’t rustle when I hopped it. I crouched low and went around the side of the house. There were lights on inside. Second floor, room in the back. And the kitchen. I crouched next to the back door and listened.

Didn’t hear much. A TV in the background, but somewhere far off. It was almost a whisper. I heard footsteps, someone shuffling around. At least one person downstairs, coming and going. I couldn’t tell what they were doing. Probably another in that second-floor room.

I had to make some guesses. This next part would be hard. I could wait until it was even later, but I was too worried about Cap. I didn’t want to hold off and stay tied up here. If she needed me, I had to be ready to run to her.

I listened at the door until the footsteps settled. I got to work.

Lockpicking looks easy in the movies. And the truth is, anyone could learn it. Lots of tutorials online. Practice locks. Picking videos. You name it, that shit’s online. I didn’t love the internet, but I did love learning how to break into places I shouldn’t be. My pick set was well used and much beloved, and I made quick work of the back handle.

I opened it and light flooded out.

The kitchen was small. Neat and tidy. Empty sink, bare table. A few takeout boxes on the counter near the microwave. The refrigerator was big and silver. Looked new.

The TV was louder. I left the door cracked open behind me. The air conditioning felt like heaven after being out in that heavy heat.

I moved across the room and stopped at the far wall. I looked around the corner and into a sparse living room. Typical safe house shit. Nothing on the walls. No personalization. No humanity.

A lone guy sat in a big easy chair. It wasn’t Clem. Another guy. Looked older. Forties maybe. Thinning hair, dark brown skin. Decent clothes. He had a big plate of food in his lap and I Love Lucy played on the TV. Ricky Ricardo said something straight-faced and serious, and Lucy made a clever little quip, and the studio audience basically melted with laughter. That guy, Ricardo. He built Hollywood.

I gripped my baton and slid it out really quiet.

* * *

Capri

Rolando threw me down on the bed and flipped on the light. “Just so you know, this wasn’t my idea.” He threw the dress at me. “Put it on.”

“Why? What’s happening right now?” I struggled to keep myself under control.

Rolando’s face was hard. “Put it on, Capri. Make this easier on you.”

I stared at him for several long moments before I stood and held the dress. “Privacy?”

He hesitated and sighed. “If you try something, I’ll have to hurt you more.” He walked to the door and turned his back. “Change. Now.”

I stripped as fast as I could. I felt sick. This wasn’t Dad’s normal punishment. Usually, he’d get drunk and hit me. But this room was a new twist, and I didn’t know what to think of it. I wondered how many other people he’d kept in this place between the first time I stayed here and now.

I got the dress on and tossed my clothes to the side. “Okay. Done.”

Rolando turned back and looked at me. Didn’t seem to like what he saw. “Now the hard part.” He slid a heavy, flat club from the back of his pants. It was long, maybe six inches total, and made from leather. He weighed it and took a deep breath. “Like I said, this wasn’t my idea.”

He advanced on me. I stood there, shaking. I knew what was coming next.

He hit me hard in the midriff. I gasped, doubling over. I fell back onto the bed and curled up as he hit me again. Pain flared, so sharp I thought I might pass out. I wanted to scream and cry, but I refused to break for this. Tears rolled down my cheeks, but I kept my mouth shut. I took it in silence, grunting only when the sand-filled weapon bashed into my body.