The Woman in the Trunk

"Nope," Christopher said, still not looking at me as I went into the fridge, finding a couple coffee-flavored energy drinks and individual orange juices. Taking the latter, I leaned back against the counter, twisting off the cap.

"Really? Seems beneath you. You know, for a big, bad mafia guy."

"I do what I'm told."

I was going to get nowhere with this one, I realized. He was too determined to do a good job, to impress Lorenzo. I wasn't going to provoke him into proving he could think for himself, or sweet talk him enough to help me. Which was maybe for the best. I'd never been much of a sweet talker.

Out of ideas for the moment, I moved back toward the living space, dropping down on the couch, careful to tuck my legs just so, very aware that the only panties I had were washed out with hand soap in the bathroom and hanging to dry over the shower door.

Reaching for the remote on the ottoman, I turned on the television, flicking through the channels, pretending not to feel like my world was spinning around and I was desperately trying to hold on.

I had a lot of practice acting calm when everything was falling apart.

A couple moments later, Lorenzo walked back out of his room, no longer dressed in a suit that seemed tailored to fit him, but a pair of black lightweight cotton pajama pants and a plain white tee. Don't ask me how, but he somehow managed to still look intimidating in something so casual.

"Chris, you want to go down and wait for the food? I ordered enough for you," Lorenzo added, moving toward the kitchen. But instead of going into the fridge, he went into a cabinet, grabbing a bottle of whiskey.

And two glasses.

I watched as he poured two generous servings before making his way toward me, holding one of the glasses out like some sort of peace offering.

"I already know your poison," he reminded me as I reached to take it. "And I figure we could both use a drink. Even if I shouldn't be serving someone your age," he added, dropping down at the far end of the sectional, catty-corner to me, and I could feel his gaze on me as I took a sip.

"Yeah," I said after the burn subsided. "It must have been a really rough couple of days for you," I drawled, rolling my eyes. I was a big eye-roller when I was a teenager. And always had something smartass to say. I had to keep remembering to play my part.

"I didn't want to do this job, kid. This is not what I do. But let's just say... it was me, or it was someone a lot worse. So I stepped in."

"So, what? I'm supposed to be thankful that you kidnapped me?"

"I'm saying the devil you know is better than the one you don't. Especially in this situation."

"But it is still a devil," I shot back, watching him over the rim of my glass as I took another sip.

"Let's just hope your father works things out quickly."

My father did nothing quickly. Except blow money he didn't have.

"Can't fucking figure out why he isn't looking for you yet."

"He wouldn't know I was missing until I didn't show up to work on Monday."

"So, what, you don't go home at night?"

This was where I needed to be careful.

"I go home. Sometimes he notices, sometimes he doesn't," I told him. I didn't have to say I went back to his home, my childhood home.

"So you can sneak down to Cape May, and drink a bottle of whiskey, and he is none the wiser, huh?"

"Pretty much."

"Don't know if I should say you're lucky, or I'm sorry you've got such a shitty dad."

"Would be silly coming from someone with an asshole for a father too," I told him.

"Careful with that, hellcat," he warned, but he didn't disagree with me. Interesting.

"Well, only shitty people demand kidnappings, right?"

"And only shitty ones carry them out?" he added, brow raising.

"You said it, not me."

"I'll let that slide. Because you're a kid. And you're pissed. But let me offer you a word of warning here, Gigi," he said, leaning forward, resting his forearms on his thighs. Even hunched forward, he was massive. "You don't say shit like that about the men I associate with. Not if you want to keep your tongue."

"Are you... threatening me?"

"I'm warning you," he corrected. "That some of these men won't bother to warn you. So, for your own sake, be careful with all that sass. I might be able to brush it off as idiotic adolescence. Others won't be so understanding. Don't be stupid, Gigi."

Don't be stupid, Gigi.

I had a feeling that would be a good motto.

It seemed like fair advice.

You know, if only I would have followed it...Chapter FiveLorenzoShe wasn't fooling me.