“Actually, they were drug dealers. For a, I guess what you’d call a ‘rival’ family. Odd coincidence, isn’t it?”
“I don’t know anything,” I state, hugging my backpack against my chest. “I didn’t know my neighbors well and I had no idea they were any kind of rivals or whatever to… anyone, so I’m afraid I can’t be much help.”
“What’s your relationship to Vince Morelli?” Apple Cheeks asks.
“He’s my boyfriend.”
“And as your boyfriend, I can see how you might feel badly talking to us about him, but this is important, Miss Mitchell. If you don’t want to help us, things could get bad for you.”
“I did nothing wrong. You can’t threaten me.”
“That’s true,” Potbelly drawls. “However, turns out your mom came into some money pretty unexpectedly, and… well, as much as I’d hate to have to involve her, it might be worth looking into.”
Narrowing my eyes, I reiterate, “I don’t know anything about the fire.”
“That’s too bad. What about anything else? Even if you don’t know about the fire, maybe you know something else that could help us? Why don’t you think real hard? Anything.”
Apple Cheeks chimes in, a little softer. “We can keep you safe, Mia. If your concern is that there would be retaliation, we can guarantee you that won’t happen.”
Shaking my head, I say, “You can’t guarantee that.”
“We can. There are programs in place to protect people like you, Miss Mitchell. We could keep you safe all the way up to testifying, and forever after. With your help, we could put Mateo Morelli behind bars, and you and your family would never be in a lick of danger for it.”
Easing back in the seat, I mull over those words. What if that’s true? There’s witness protection, right? What if I really could give them dirt on Mateo, and just like that, he’d be out of my life?
Vince would probably go down with him, though. Even after last night, I don’t want that.
But Mateo…. Mateo would deserve it.
They’d probably go easier on Vince than him anyway—Vince is small potatoes. Mateo’s the one they want. Maybe they would even work with me to spare Vince in exchange for giving them Mateo. And I probably could—with what Adrian said in front of me. I could tie Mateo himself directly to it.
“I know you’re angry right now, hurt, scared, but you should know this doesn’t change anything. Like me or hate me, you will remain loyal to me. You speak a word about anything you shouldn’t, and I will end you.”
The memory of Mateo’s threat—uttered mere moments after violating me—causes gooseflesh to rise on my arms.
“I’m sorry,” I say, lowly. “I don’t know a single thing that could be of use to you.”
“Ma’am, your mother—”
“Investigate her if you have to,” I interrupt, shoving open the door. “I can’t help you.”
I hope it’s over once I’m outside of the car, but Potbelly holds out a business card for me to take. “Well, why don’t you take this, just in case you remember anything? Maybe you’ll hear something we can use in the future.”
I stare at the card, but I know I can’t take it. Forget the possibility of somebody finding it—if I have that in my possession and Mateo assaults me again, I might be tempted to call.
Swallowing, I shake my head and walk away.
—
Don’t go to the bakery after school. Taking you to dinner. Wear whatever you want.
I get the text from Vince at lunch.
My initial response is uncertainty—it’s already been a hell of a day, and I haven’t even left school yet. I don’t really want to face Mateo though, particularly after last night, so I don’t reject his offer.
Cherie takes me home after school, and since I know I’m doing dinner with Vince, I go to our room to do my homework.
A little after four, Vince shows up.
“You ready to go?” he asks.
“Sure,” I say, flipping my textbook closed. When I stand and turn to face him, however, I’m caught off guard. Vince’s eye appears to be swollen, and his lip is split. Rushing over to him, I reach out a hand to touch him, but stop short, figuring it might hurt. “Oh, my God, Vince. What happened?”
He shakes his head like it doesn’t matter. “I’m fine.”
“Did someone hit you?”
“I’m fine. It was nothing.”
“Who did this?” My first thought, honestly, is Adrian. He seems to be the only decent one around here, and even he isn’t decent enough to stop any of it. Then again, I don’t know if he’d actually hit Vince. He doesn’t tread carefully around the Morelli men like everyone else, but that may be taking things too far.
“It was just sparring,” he says dismissively.
“Sparring?” I ask, quirking a skeptical eyebrow.
“I think Mateo just really wanted to punch me in the face. It was at the gym. It’s fine.”