by Laura Sutton
Oh, he was doing his best not to smother her, but that wasn’t stopping him from buying her drinks or dropping a chaste kiss on her cheek here and there.
It had been his Uncle Nico who had convinced him to just go all-in with Sam. “Don’t make the same mistake I did,” he told Eli on the phone Monday morning.
“Mistake?” he’d asked his uncle.
“Yes. I gave up the woman I loved because of the family. It’s why I left, even if it was fifteen years too late.”
Eli had never known his uncle had been in love. Nico had married a few times, but those marriages had never seemed serious, and then his uncle had left the family. Tired of his restaurant, of his pride and joy being a front for the di Ruggiero illegal activities. Now he seemed content with his wife, Tiffany, but hardly in love.
“Uncle, I never knew… who was she?”
“It doesn’t matter now, she’s long since moved on. Married a doctor, I hear, and had a few kids, but not a day goes by that I don’t regret not fighting for her. You need to fight for Samantha, Elias– damn the world, damn your brother. Trust me, there will always be storms, even away from the family. What’s important is who we have by our sides, to weather those storms.”
His uncle’s voice was sad and serious, and Eli wanted to know more about this mysterious woman, but also knew it wasn’t his place to ask.
“Thank you, Uncle,” he said instead.
“Plus, she enjoyed my cooking, so she obviously has good taste,” Nico said with a laugh and allowed the subject to drop, but he was right. There was no one else Eli wanted by his side in a storm than Sam.
And now he was talking with Mike, was a lawyer at the firm with whom he had handled a few cases. Mike had just started a story about the time he made a complete fool out of himself during a mock trial when Sam looked at her phone and started to turn away from their little group.
“Hey, everything okay?” Eli stopped her with his hand on her arm.
“Yeah, my mom is calling. I’m going to step outside real quick and tell her I’ll call her back later,” she answered, looking preoccupied.
“Okay, don’t be gone too long,” he said, his tone playful. As soon as she was done with her call, he wanted to get her home… home and out of her clothes.
“So, you and the new girl, huh?” Mike said with a smirk.
“She’s not the new girl to me.” Eli sipped his whiskey. “We actually met on vacation over a year ago.”
“Hey, I’m not judging, man.” Mike held up his hands in mock surrender. “She seems awesome, from the little I’ve interacted with her.”
“She really is,” Eli agreed and Mike chuckled.
“Oh, man, you got it bad. I’ve seen that look. My brother had that look when he started dating Michelle, his wife. It’s been nice knowing you, buddy.” Mike clinked their glasses together.
“Shut up,” Eli grumbled into his glass, throwing back the rest of his drink.
“Want another?” Mike asked and Eli shook his head.
“Nah, I’m going to check on Sam, she’s been outside a while,” Eli said. He headed to the bar and closed out his tab. He wanted to go, to spend this weekend just like they had spent the last: together.
Eli headed out into the cool night air. Now that the sun had set, it was starting to get cooler outside. He hoped Sam had a jacket or sweater with her. He didn’t want her to become chilled.
“Sam?” He looked up and down the street but didn’t see her familiar curvy form. “Sam?”
To the left was a narrow alley, redolent of rotting food scraps and discarded peelings. He rounded the corner, expecting to find her there, but a skinny cat slinking into the shadows was its only occupant. Eli’s heart began to twist in alarm; something was wrong. Where could she be? That part of Alexandria wasn’t very dangerous, but it was still a big city. Horrible things started flashing through his head.
“Sam!” Eli called again, but there was no response. He fished out his phone and dialed her number, and let out a shuddering breath of relief when she answered on the second ring.
“Samantha! Where are you, bimba? Why did you leave?” he practically shouted into the phone, but it wasn’t Sam’s voice that answered him.
“Hello, brother.” Eli’s blood ran cold at the sound of his brother’s voice. “I’m sorry, but the very lovely Samantha cannot come to the phone.”
“Dante, what have you done? Where is Sam? Have you hurt her?” Eli demanded. He didn’t trust his brother; he had severed the only familial tie Dante held dear: loyalty. Dante no longer saw him as a brother, and Eli knew what he was capable of in his pursuit of power and wealth and, above all, protection of the family.
“Elias, you wound me. She’s fine. Asleep. She might have a headache when she wakes, but other than that, she’s completely unhurt.”
Eli sagged against the brick wall in relief. “What do you want, Dante?”
“You know what I want, Elias. I want your expertise. You may have betrayed the family by leaving, but you’re still the most brilliant legal mind I’ve ever met, and you know I’ve met my fair share of lawyers.” He paused, chuckling at his own jest. “I want you to take over Papa’s case and get him out of prison.”
Eli’s eyes slid closed as terror raced through him. He fought to maintain composure; giving in to his impulse to destroy something would not benefit Samantha. He sucked in a few deep breaths and found calmness deep inside, in the heart of the well of love he felt for her.
“If I do this, you won’t hurt her?” His voice sounded distant, as if coming from far away, and cold, colder than a glacier. “You’ll let her go and leave us alone.” It was not a question.
“I swear it on our mother’s grave,” Dante answered gravely. “Do this and I will leave you and yours alone.”
“And if I can’t get him out?” Eli didn’t often lose cases, but nothing was certain in criminal justice; an unsuccessful appeal was a very distinct possibility. Their father had already been convicted of murder. There had been a reliable witness. Even if he pushed himself to his limits, there was a good possibility that no matter how hard Eli tried, his father would never be free.
“If you fail–” Dante’s drawl was mocking, implying a shitty work ethic or lack of talent, refusing to accept that the myriad subtleties of the law precluded guarantees “–you will try again with his next appeal, and the next after that. Until he is out, Elias, or they put him to death. That is the only way this ends.”
It was a life sentence, and they both knew it. The unlikelihood of Papa going free matched would ensure he was beholden to the family for the next decade, or even two. A strange calm descended over Eli, and his mind felt partitioned in two: on the one side, selfish pragmatism said to tell his brother to go pound sand; Eli wasn’t about to sacrifice himself for the sake of a murderer, even if that murderer was their father.
On the other, though, was Samantha. Sam in the jungle, Sam in her apartment, Sam filling up his life with light and showing him another way to live, a way that meant fighting against corruption and violence instead of to protect and commit it. Giving up on her meant giving up on the salvation of his very soul.
“Alright,” he said at last, his voice hollow, empty. Dead. Only the thought of keeping Sam safe, of having her back in his arms, kept him from splintering apart. “I’ll do it. I’ll do his appeals until he’s free, or one of us is dead.”
Dante chuckled, unaware or uncaring– most likely uncaring, if Eli knew his brother– of what he’d put Eli through. “We’re already on the plane. See you back in Dallas, baby brother.” A click, and the line went dead.
A jittery, frantic sense of urgency flooded Eli, the stonelike chill leaving him abruptly. The number of things he needed to do swarmed him, and for a moment he just stood in the stinking alley, trying to organize his thoughts. When he had gathered himself together once more, he left the alley already dialing his phone.
His first stop was his apartment to pack a bag, and then to Sam’s to get
some things for her. She’d want her own clothes, shoes, toiletries. It would make her feel less of an abductee and more of a… reluctant guest, or so he hoped. Within two hours, he was in a first-class seat on a plane aimed at Dallas, his adrenaline fading and replaced by a dazed limpness he indulged himself in, just for a few mites. Despite how quickly his life had changed, when he’d left the family years earlier, he hadn’t absorbed the lesson. Now, somehow, he was reeling from the swift transformation from his contentment with his nice, normal existence and the growing bliss of being with Sam, to… whatever his life would be now. An unwilling servant, indentured by the cost of keeping safe the woman he loved.
After the moment of indulgence passed, Eli took a breath and squared his shoulders; he had work to do. He booted up his computer and read through the files Dante had emailed him months earlier. He hadn’t read them, but he hadn’t deleted them either. Maybe his subconscious had known that Dante would get his way eventually. He always did; it was easy, when you lacked a conscience.
From the notes, it appeared an iron-clad conviction. The prosecution had dotted all their i’d and crossed all their t’s. There was no way he was going to be able to get his father out of prison.
Then he thought about Sam, about how quickly and easily she’d found a way to set Debra Cork free. She’d work with him on the appeal, he knew she would, for his sake. Because she– he didn’t know if she loved him, but she cared for him, that much he knew. She would help him, and the knowledge that he wasn’t alone in this hellish new existence of his, lifted a bit of his despair.
They’d do it. They had to. Their future depended on it.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Samantha
Sam woke slowly, stretching and reaching for Eli in the bed next to her, but he wasn’t there. She rolled over on her back and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, taking a physical inventory. Her mouth was dry, with a foul taste, and her limbs felt like they were made of lead. She opened her eyes to a room she didn’t recognize and the events of the previous night started filtering back.
The alley. Dante. He’d drugged her, and– she squinted at her surroundings– brought her somewhere she’d never been before.
She pulled back the covers to see she was still dressed in her suit from the night before, all that had been removed being her jacket. She let out a breath of relief she hadn’t realized she’d held. Swinging her legs off the bed, she groaned at the headache beginning to pound behind her eyes.
A knock at the door startled her.
“Ma’am? My name is Sandra, I’m Mr. Dante’s maid,” a feminine voice called through the closed door. “I have some fresh clothes for you.”
“Ye– Yes,” Sam said, her voice raspy. Her throat felt lined with sandpaper.
“Good morning.” A pretty older woman, her black hair liberally streaked with gray, entered the room carrying a shopping bag. She was wearing what appeared to be nondescript scrubs, the kind you would see a nurse wear in a doctor’s office.
“Good morning,” Sam parroted back warily. She didn’t trust anyone right now, no matter how kind their smile might be.
“Mr. Dante sent me out this morning to get you some things. I had to guess at your size, but I think I did okay. If I didn’t, you can just tell me what you need, and I’ll be more than happy to arrange it.” The woman smiled again and stepped back.
Sam began to rummage through the bags. There was a pair of light-colored blue jeans that looked like they would probably fit, a blue shirt made of soft material, and a lightweight gray cardigan. There were also plain cotton panties and some basic toiletries.
“I hope those will work,” the lady repeated and Sam looked up at her again. She seemed to be waiting for Sam to either approve or disapprove of the items in the bag.
“These are fine, thank you,” Sam said, and Sandra looked visibly relieved. Sam wondered if Dante would hurt or punish the woman if Sam hadn’t approved of the clothes.
“If you’d like to take a shower, your bathroom is through there,” Sandra said, pointing to the other closed door in the room. “And I’m going to make breakfast. Mr. Dante asked me to tell you he would appreciate your company for the meal.”
Sam bristled silently at the idea of the brute summoning her to breakfast, but nodded. She recognized the need to keep him civil. Her safety and perhaps that of Eli depended on it.
“Does half an hour give you enough time?” Sandra asked. Sam nodded again and the woman left the room without a backwards glance.
Sam glanced around the room. It was large and very impersonal. There was the bed that she sat on, its linens white; a large, dark-stained dresser; an overstuffed gray chair squatted in the corner. That was all. Sam stood and tried to roll the stiffness out of her back and neck. A hot shower probably would do wonders to help wake her up, and the Lord knew she needed something to eat. Hopefully, her breakfast wouldn’t be drugged.
She also needed to speak to Eli. He would be out of his mind with worry, she knew. Something like this was what he had feared and wanted to protect her from. Maybe not his brother kidnapping her, but something from his family and their life harming her. She felt a pang of guilt, for not believing Eli when he’d insisted his family was dangerous. She’d been naive to not trust him to know how his own people were.
She stepped under the shower’s hot spray and let the water fall over her tired muscles, wondering what Eli was doing. Would he come get her? Had he even realized she was gone? Certainly, he wouldn’t think she would just leave without telling him. She lathered her hair with the lavender-scented shampoo and thought about it. No, Eli was definitely looking for her, if he didn’t know where she was or who she was with. He wouldn’t leave her in the clutches of his brother, she was sure of that. She needed to get to a phone and call him, let him know she was alright. After that, she’d decide on her next move.
Quickly she finished her shower; the sooner she faced Dante, the better. She knew what he wanted, and if Eli couldn’t bring himself to do what his brother wanted, she would do it. She would get their father out of prison, under the condition Dante and everyone else in the di Ruggiero family left Eli alone.
Out of the shower, she dressed, pulled her hair up into a damp, messy bun, and took a deep breath to calm her nerves. Her heart was pounding and her palms damp; she was scared, but she needed to find some level of control. She’d met dangerous men like Dante before, been in courtrooms with them while clerking for Justice Landry. She knew you could never show them any fear.
Sam exited her room and took in her surroundings. She could smell Sandra cooking breakfast and even hear the bacon sizzling and popping, so wherever they were wasn’t a huge mansion, but the large open area and the high ceilings screamed obscene wealth. To her right was a wall of windows with sunlight streaming through its sparkling panes. She wandered towards it and all she could see were huge buildings, and not from the ground. They were high up, probably in some penthouse high-rise condo.
“Enjoying the view?” Dante drawled from behind her.
Sam stifferened and turned. She was struck again by how similar Dante and Eli were… in looks. Both brothers were tall and lean, with a flawless olive complexion, their eyes smoldering and dark. But where Eli’s visage was comforting, with its good humor and liveliness, Dante’s was cold and blank, filling her with dread.
“Where am I?” she asked instead of answering him, and consciously kept her arms loose at her sides. She wanted to cross them, pull her sweater around herself and hide away from his piercing gaze, but she didn’t. She couldn’t give the slightest hint of vulnerability around this man.
“My penthouse in Dallas,” he answered. He turned on his heel and walked towards what Sam assumed was the kitchen. He didn’t instruct her to follow, but her stomach was growling and she needed some coffee to help wake her up from whatever sedative was still lingering in her system.
She followed him to a large kitchen table where two places had been set; he obviously intended for her to j
oin him. In fact, he pulled out one of the chairs for her to sit.
“Please, Samantha, join me for breakfast.” He smiled, but she didn’t return it. There was nothing about the situation to smile about. She did sit in the proffered chair, though.
“Coffee?” Dante asked as he took his own seat and held up a porcelain coffee carafe.
“Please,” she answered, sliding her coffee cup closer to him and then busied herself with adding sugar and cream to her cup.
“Here we go,” Sandra said, putting plates of fluffy eggs, bacon, and fresh fruit in front of them. “I hope scrambled is okay, Ms. Samantha. You just let me know what you like tomorrow, and I’ll make it.”
Sam forced a smile. “Scrambled is perfect, thank you.” Sandra nodded and disappeared back into the kitchen.
Sam began on her breakfast; it was delicious and she applied herself wholly to cleaning the plate, her appetite roaring despite the grimness of her situation. Sam would never be the waifish type of girl who couldn’t touch a bite of food when she was upset. If anything, she always got hungrier.
For a few minutes there were no sounds between them but the clacking of their forks on their plates and the occasional sips of coffee. Sam was going to let him start the conversation, feel him out first.
“How are you feeling this morning?” he finally asked.
Sam wiped her lips with the crisp white linen napkin and placed it back in her lap before answering. “Much better after a shower and some food.”
Dante nodded. “Yes, the sedative has been known to linger. The food will help.” His dark eyes traveled her body, and the look made Sam’s skin crawl but she did her best to keep the look on her face neutral. “Anything you need, you can give Sandra a list and she’ll get them for you.”
Sam didn’t care about acquiring anything from him, and she certainly didn’t want to give Sandra more work to do. “How long will I be here for?” she asked, keeping her tone light.
