by Sam Mariano
Ethan nods. “I figured that was next on the list. And being the swell second best friend that I am, I already thought of it.”
I frown and follow him to the entryway. He’s just going to take me Salvatore like that? Damn, I should’ve brought all this shit to Ethan a long time ago.
Only, he doesn’t head for the door.
He stops at the bottom of the stair case and looks up.
There at the top, in all his cocky, smirking, pain in the ass glory, is Salvatore Castellanos.
And the icing on top of the cake? At his side, her arm wrapped possessively around his waist, stands Francesca Morelli.
The End… Not really. I need to stop lying before I turn into a Morelli. BOOK FOUR COMING SOON! But for now, check out the ALTERNATE ENDING!
DELETED CHAPTER
This deleted chapter is actually an alternate ending! Adrian had to end the book, since it’s his book, but what did Mateo need him for? Let’s find out!
Mia
The Frank family should have been here to pick up their cake an hour ago.
I grab my phone and shoot a message to Meg—she’s bored, and we’re having a GIF-off. While I peruse for just the right Will Ferrell GIF, the doorbells chime.
I drop my phone on the counter and glance up at the man walking through the door. He looks grumpy—middle-aged, kinda puffy, a look on his face like he just wanted to stay home and watch the game, but his wife sent him here instead.
Are there any games to watch in the summer? Maybe baseball? I don’t know. Sports are boring.
“Hi, what can I do for you today?” I ask him.
Mark flies in from the back—and I do mean flies. He has to grab onto me to steady himself so his momentum doesn’t fling him into the counter.
At least, that’s what I assume. But then he doesn’t let me go. He pulls me into him, securing me with one arm, the other… He has a gun.
My blood turns to ice in my veins.
“I got her,” he tells the guy on the other side of the display.
“Mark, what the fuck?” I manage, through the feeling of immense betrayal sinking through me.
Sweatpants says, “This ain’t your assignment.”
“Sal wanted me on it. He wants her alive.”
“What the fuck?” I repeat, my eyes widening. I turn my head back to look at Mark, but his face tells me literally nothing. Where is the expressive friend who beat me at a pesto cook-off? What the hell is this bullshit?
“Well, Antonio doesn’t,” Sweatpants replies, eyebrows lifting like he’s one-upped him.
I think there’s a stand-off of some sort. Sweatpants stares down Mark, Mark stares down Sweatpants. I sweat my ass off. I can’t process what’s happening. Just a minute ago I was worried about a cake, and now there’s Mark with a gun, and some Castellanos flunky, apparently? And also, Mark is in league with them?
“I’ll take her. I’ll take her right now.”
“That’s not what I was sent to do,” Sweatpants states. “They moved on our guys. It’s war, and Antonio wants blood.”
“Oh, all right,” Mark says, more easily than I appreciate. “Well, let me call Sal first, clear it with him. Then I’ll hand her off to you. Bruce with you?”
Sweatpants shakes his head, sniffling and looking back over his shoulder. “Nah, didn’t expect this to be too hard. Bruce is setting up something else.”
Mark nods, his grip on me tightening. “I’ll call you after I talk to him.”
“Why don’t you just call him right now?”
Mark jerks his head toward the ceiling. “Morelli’s got this whole place under surveillance. They’re probably already on their way.”
Sweatpants mutters a really filthy curse—honestly, even after listening to Mateo’s mouth it makes me grimace. Then he nods in acquiescence. “All right. You need help with the girl?”
“No, she won’t give me any trouble,” he says, glancing down at me. Then he smirks a little, not a nice smile, and it makes my stomach hurt. He’s supposed to be my friend, and I’m an idiot for believing that. “Actually, I think she likes me, don’t you, honey?”
“No,” I mutter, looking away from him.
Sweatpants seems vaguely amused by this.
Mark’s smile turns self-deprecating. “Maybe not. You wanna escort me to the car, make sure she doesn’t try to run?”
“Sure,” Sweatpants says, flipping the sign on the door to closed and following Mark as he drags me out the back.
“You’re going to regret this,” I inform him, looking around for something, anything I could grab onto. Maybe I could hit Mark—but then there’s Sweatpants, and he wants me dead, apparently?
My phone. I left my phone on the counter. How will they even know I was taken? Yes, Mateo has this place under surveillance, but he doesn’t monitor it. No one will even know to look for me until I don’t come home from work, and that’s hours from now. I could be dead by then.
That terrifying realization settles on me and I miss a step. Mark scowls at me and tugs me closer. “I’ve had my eye on this one for a while,” Mark goes on, conversationally. “Boyfriend’s a real asshole. I’ve had to listen to all the girl talk. Kind of glad this is finally happening.”
Sweatpants snorts. “Yeah, she looks like a real princess.”
I realize it’s absurd to be offended by the observations of those who plan to kill you, but I still am.
We approach Mark’s car, an old, beige rust-box. I recall Adrian coming in to buy a cake, asking me about Mark. It’s the only sliver of hope I have. If Adrian looked into him after he left, maybe he found something.
It’s only a sliver though, because if he had? Mark wouldn’t be here. I don’t know how quickly they’re able to find information on people, but I’m kind of banking on Adrian crashing in to save the day any minute now.
“You are so dead,” I inform Mark, since all I can do at this point is lash out. “You’re basically a ghost already, that’s how dead you are.”
“Yeah?” he asks, almost congenially. “Which one of your boyfriends is gonna kill me?”
I glare at him for that one, and he actually looks genuinely amused.
“Sorry, it was too easy,” he states.
I raise my eyebrows haughtily. “It’s okay. Get your laughs in while you can, Casper.”
“You’re so cocky for someone whose life is in my hands,” he informs me. “I feel like Mateo got a much better response than this under those circumstances.”
I give an outright guffaw. “You’re no Mateo.”
He frowns, then pulls a slight pout. “Hey now, you don’t have to be mean.” We’re at the passenger side of his car now, and he glances from Sweatpants to me. “I don’t suppose you want to be obedient and just get in the car?”
I just glare. I haven’t decided how to play this. Mark wants me dead less than Sweatpants, so I probably don’t want to be enough trouble that Sweatpants tags along. But I also don’t want to get in the car, because as soon as I leave the bakery, I don’t know how anyone will find me to rescue me.
Once I’m handed off to Sweatpants, my chances of saving myself significantly decrease.
So I decide, “I’ll get in the car.”
“Oh, good,” Mark says. “That makes my life slightly easier.”
I’m not happy about it, but I slide into the passenger seat of his car, crossing my arms over my chest, wanting to make sure he understands how huffy I am.
Mark shuts my door, then follows Sweatpants around the back of the car. I take advantage of the moment alone to search for something to defend myself, rifling through his glove compartment for a gun. Apparently he hasn’t seen enough movies, because there’s not one in there.
An explosive pop scares the shit out of me and I jump, a small scream slipping out of me.
I twist to look behind me, but then I see Mark opening the door, a grim expression on his face. He slides into the driver’s seat, and I crane my head, looking for Sweatpants, but I don’t s
ee him.
“What just happened?” I ask, confused.
“I just fucked myself,” he states, reaching into the center console, pulling out a false bottom, and retrieving a phone. “I need you to call Mateo.”
“No,” I say, frowning.
“You want him to come get you? I’m not going to hurt you. Tell him to come alone.”
“No,” I say again. If he wants Mateo alone, it’s because he wants to hurt him. “You’ve been lying to me all along. You work for the bad guys.”
Mark snorts, looking at me as if to see if I’m joking. “We both work for the bad guys, Mia.”
---
I refuse to call Mateo.
Mostly because I don’t want him to get hurt, and also because I don’t know his phone number.
Mark doesn’t know that last part, he just thinks I’m excessively stubborn.
We’re at a hotel now. A cheap little one floor hotel that makes me nervous. He goes outside and makes a call, presumably to Salvatore Castellanos, and when he comes back in, he sits on the bed and stares at me.
“Call Mateo.”
I shake my head again.
His head droops and he pinches the bridge of his nose. “Mia, I’m trying really hard to keep you alive. Like, really hard. But you’re starting to piss me off.”
“You don’t need Mateo. If all you want is to keep me alive, to hand me off to my side, you could give me to anyone. Vince, Adrian—even a nobody. It wouldn’t matter. If only Mateo will do, then I call bullshit. You’re lying to me, like you’ve been lying to me, and I won’t help you hurt him.”
“I need Mateo because I need to give him information. I can’t give it to Adrian because he’ll kill me, and Vince…” He shakes his head, rolling his eyes. “I don’t trust Vince. I don’t want anybody else. I want Mateo.”
“He won’t come,” I tell him, shaking my head. “Even if I called, he wouldn’t come. He’s not an idiot. If it looks like a trap and smells like a trap…”
“But it’s not a trap. Look, I can leave you here in this hotel and let you find your own way, but that won’t solve this thing. They’re going to notice Arturo missing and it won’t be too hard to figure out what happened. I need to get the fuck out of here, and every minute I waste arguing with you is a minute I can’t afford.”
“Why?” I ask, scowling. “You were clearly on their side.”
“I’m not a baker, but I wasn’t a spy. I mean…” He looks off to the side, sighing. “I spied, sure, but I was there to protect Francesca. I didn’t technically have to come back after she disappeared, but… I wanted to keep you safe.”
That gives me pause. He seems sincere, but I’m still reeling from the knowledge that he’s duped me for the entire time I’ve known him. How do I know if I can trust anything he’s saying?
“Please, Mia. Just call him.”
I sigh, looking down at my hands in my lap. “I can’t. I don’t actually know his number, and I left my phone at the bakery.”
Mark just stares at me. “You’re kidding.”
I shake my head. “Not at all.”
“Well, can’t you get it? Call Vince.”
I scoff. He’s heard my girl talk; he has to know that isn’t happening.
“Meg?”
Okay, I could call Meg. Her number’s really easy to remember, so I actually do have that one stored in my brain.
“You promise you’re not going to hurt him?”
He shakes his head. “I’m on the anti-war side. I don’t want a Morelli beef.”
“Understand that if you’re lying to me, I’ll figure out how to work a gun and shoot you myself.”
He snorts, rolling his eyes. “Okay.”
“I’m not kidding,” I inform him.
Mark sighs. “I’m not going to shoot your stupid mob boss boyfriend.”
I give him another glare for good measure, then I finally take the phone and push in Meg’s phone number.
“Hello?” she answers, a bit uncertainly.
I wasn’t sure she’d answer at all, since it’s an unknown number. I eye up Mark again, searching his face for any signs of inappropriate emotions. Excitement, because I’m going along with his trick? I see nothing. He looks stressed, but in no way eager.
“It’s Mia,” I tell her.
“Oh,” she says, sounding surprised. “Did your phone die?”
“No, I don’t have it on me,” I say, wondering just how much to reveal. I don’t want to stress her out, what with the pregnancy and everything, so I decide to keep it brief. “Listen, can you do me a favor? I don’t have Mateo’s phone number, but I need to talk to him. Could you give him this number and have him call me right away?”
“Sure. Is everything okay?”
“I’m not sure,” I say honestly.
“I’ll get it to him right now.”
“Thank you.”
I hang up that call and dread courses through me. I cradle the phone in my hands, staring at it, my heart starting to race with the adrenaline suddenly moving through me. I want him to call and I don’t. I don’t want to ask him to come here. I don’t want to hear doubt in his voice, knowing he’s wondering if he can trust me. I don’t want to know if I’m right and he won’t even come for me.
“What am I supposed to say?” I ask Mark.
“I just need you to get him on the phone and let him know you’re really here. I’ll do the rest.”
“This is a terrible idea,” I inform him. “If you’re not a bad guy, I don’t want you to get killed, and this seems like a really good way to get murdered.”
“I’m going to use you as a human shield,” he informs me.
My phone rings.
I nearly jump out of my skin, and my heart slams around my chest, anticipating his voice on the other line. I don’t even think I’m in any real danger—from Mark, at least—but this feels incredibly daunting. I desperately want to answer and very much don’t at the same time.
Swallowing, I accept the call and put the phone to my ear. “Hey.”
“What’s wrong?” he asks, immediately.
My heart jumps again. Anxiety pours through me, partially because of his no-nonsense, alert tone, and partially because I’m afraid of this conversation on so many levels. “I’m okay,” I begin, because that seems important. “But… I’ve sort of been taken?”
“Taken?” he asks sharply.
“Um, some guy came to the bakery—a Castellanos guy, I think. He mentioned Antonio. I’m not with him,” I add, looking to Mark, who finally stands and comes over, but doesn’t take the phone yet. “Mark from the bakery…”
Now Mark takes the phone. “Mark here,” he says, with not nearly enough fear. This asshat should be shaking in his boots! “I work for Salvatore, not Antonio. I don’t want to hurt Mia, but I need you to come alone to get her.” He pauses, listening to Mateo’s response, I guess. “Like I said, I don’t want to hurt her; I just can’t have you bringing your goon squad along. I didn’t even intend to do this, but you guys hit our guys, and weirdly enough, nobody’s very happy about it. I have no back-up, I sort of went rogue to save Mia, so I’d really like to leave this hotel room alive.” He grimaces, falling silent. “Jesus. I wasn’t—it was just the first place—” He stops again, raising his eyebrows and looking at me.
I shrug, because how am I supposed to know?
Holding up a finger at me, he heads for the door, opening it, and heading outside.
I hear mumbling, but I can’t make out what he’s saying. A few minutes later he comes back inside, no longer on the phone.
“I thought he wasn’t supposed to have a temper,” Mark states, looking at me like I’ve lied to him.
I shake my head. “He doesn’t.”
“Oh, yeah he does. I expected even-keeled sociopath. I’m very disappointed in the reliability of reputations right now.”
I can’t bite back a little grin. “He was really mad at you, huh?”
“I thought I was joking about h
im being your boyfriend,” he states, raising an eyebrow.
“You know Vince is,” I say.
“Does he?”
I attempt to bite back a little smile, but I fail horribly.
---
Mark keeps watch out the front window. There are only windows along the front of the unit, none along the sides or the back, so according to Mark, we do not have a great position. He says this as if we’re on the same side, and I’m still not positive we are, but I’m being optimistic.
I point out he should’ve considered that when he was picking a place. He reminds me that this wasn’t something he had time to plan. I guess I can’t argue with that.
This not being a plan is also why I think he probably really isn’t trying to kill Mateo. If this was a plot, it would be going more smoothly, right?
“He’s here.” Mark swallows, backing away from the window and coming over to grab me. I wasn’t sure he was telling the truth about the human shield thing, but apparently he was. “If he tries to kill me, can you please speak up on my behalf?” he requests. “I could’ve left you here and got the hell out of dodge, but I’m trying to make peace and I really don’t want to die for my efforts.”
“I’ll try,” I offer.
Mark takes a breath and pushes it out, like he’d dreading this as much as I am.
“Get the door,” he tells me. “Ask him if he’s alone.”
Mateo hasn’t pounded on it to alert us to his presence, but I don’t wait for that. I ease it open just in time to see him storming my way, expression stony. At the sight of me, his expression wavers, his eyes sweeping over me, taking inventory of how I look, if I’ve been harmed.
“Move,” he says.
“Wait,” I say, holding my arms out, barring the door. He scowls, but my gaze goes to the gun he already has at the ready. I glance back at Mark, making sure he isn’t doing anything stupid, but he’s not. He does have his gun out, but more like he wants to be able to defend himself than because he wants to use it.
