Don’t I know it.
“Besides,” Tom says. “I doubt boss’d go for it. He’s against stealing.” Tom’s dead serious. I snort a laugh that carjacking is where their boss draws the line. Not kidnapping. Not murder. Fencing cars.
They both pull ugly faces at me. I don’t like the way Tom’s still leering at my breasts. “Boss told you before, he can get a shit ton selling you on the black market. And I just noticed today you have a little cousin.”
Ice cold and lava flush through at the same time.
No he fucking didn’t.
I sense the blood drain from my face, and they both smile at my terror.
“She looks ripe, that one,” Vinny says with a sick smirk. “Perfect age. These pedophiles love the tweens. They go for the most money.”
“You stay away from my cousin,” I grit through clenched teeth.
“You get the boss his money. All his money. He’s already pissed it’s taking so long.”
My stomach is a solid rock of tension. “I’ll get it. Stay the hell away from her.” I point at them like I’m the mobster doing the shake down. The fact that my finger’s shaking probably ruins the whole effect.
It takes me two tries, but I manage to get back on my bike and ride it into the garage of my aunt’s townhouse.
I hit the garage door button, and they watch me disappear behind the closed door. I don’t cry until I hear the Lincoln drive away and all goes silent. Alone in the dark, the smell of gas and dust filling my nostrils, I gasp for breath between sobs.
Sophie, their golden retriever, woofs and scratches at the door, eager to greet me.
“Just a minute, Soph,” I say thickly, wiping my face with both hands.
The door flies open a moment later, and my cousin Rikki regards me as Sophie dashes over to dance around my feet and lick my hands. “Who were those guys?”
Oh shit.
“What guys?” I keep my head ducked, petting the dog as I walk through the door.
“The guys in the black car. They looked like bad news.”
“No, they were just asking for directions. But they probably are bad news. Don’t stop and talk to strangers like I just did. It’s not safe.”
“I know,” she says impatiently. “That’s why I was asking.”
Inside, the kitchen smells delicious, but I duck past my Aunt Jen quickly. “I’m going to shower,” I call out as I dash up the stairs.
“Okay, dinner’s almost ready,” she calls back.
“Yep. Give me five.” I go straight to the en suite bathroom between my room and Nikki’s and lock both doors.
Only then do I let myself really cry.
Six weeks before
I don’t know how I’m going to explain the fat lip and bruises to my aunt. I know it’s a ridiculous concern considering two men just wrestled me into the back of a black Escalade. They flank me now and a third calmly sits across from us, studying me.
He looks a bit like a cross between Andy Garcia and De Niro. He’s in a full tailored black suit, despite the fact that Arizona is literally located on the sun, and it’s blistering hot outside. The gaudiest gold and diamond ring I’ve ever seen is on his left pinky finger.
He raises a salt and pepper brow. “Sloane McCormick?”
“Who’s asking?” Adrenaline and fear give my words bite.
His lips twitch, but his eyes remain impassive. Cold. “I’m an associate of your father’s.”
A stone sinks down, down, down and lodges in my stomach. “I’m not sure if you’ve heard, but my dad isn’t around anymore. He… died recently.” My throat works. I haven’t seen him in over a year. Haven’t been close to him in much longer. I’ve cried all the tears that could be cried, but saying it outloud somehow makes it fresh.
“His passing is why I’m here.” He snaps his fingers and flicks his hand this way and that, and the two goons holding me in place let me go. He leans in, elbows on knee, hands folded in prayer. “Your father had something of mine—my cut, if you will—and he hid it for safekeeping. His cellmate told my guy you know where it is.”
I shake my head, confused. “All his assets were frozen—”
“This wasn’t something the Feds knew about. Think real hard, bella mia. Did he send you any letters, maybe something in code, maybe had a location on it? A number sequence?”
Ice trickles down my spine. My father sent me letters. Letters I never opened. Letters I crumpled up and sent out in the trash because I was pissed that he ruined my life.
I shake my head again, this time not looking at him.
“That’s too bad.” He sits back and cocks his head. “Such a pretty girl, you are. It will be such a travesty when you go missing.” He flicks his wrists again and a black cloth sack covers my head.