Accidental Witness

by Sam Mariano

  “Thank you,” I say, quietly.

  My stomach pitches and turns like a ship caught in a storm. After a few bites, I give up on the salad and turn to wine. I know I’ll be in Mateo’s bed again tonight, and maybe I’ll feel a bit better about it if I manage to get drunk first. I wish I had the nerve to take what Vince has, but the sexist assbags only give women wine at dinner, no hard liquor.

  Which, I call bullshit, because we need hard liquor to deal with them.

  Once Mateo finishes his salad, I push back and stand to clear his plate.

  Vince’s hand shoots out, grabbing my wrist before I’m all the way up. I freeze, not sure what to expect.

  “I want you to bring my dinner,” he states.

  Swallowing, hating the impulse, I look to Mateo. I catch mild surprise on his face before he clears it, his gaze moving to mine, watching to see what I’ll say.

  “Okay,” I say uncertainly.

  Mateo, probably not pleased with my response, meets Vince’s gaze. “Why?”

  Vince’s eyes meet his, full of resentment. “Why not?”

  Not one to be challenged, Mateo gives a deceptively casual shrug. “Well, I’m the one fucking her each night, I’m the one waking up with her tangled in my arms every morning, doesn’t seem to me there’s much reason—”

  Vince’s chair flies back and I jump, gasping. Mateo already had the attention of half the table with his boastful assholery, but the few at the far end who hadn’t been looking are now.

  “Fuck that,” Vince says lowly. “Fuck. That.”

  “Vince,” I say, glancing over at Mateo. I don’t disagree, but I don’t think it’s even safe to make a scene telling Mateo to fuck off at family dinner. I envision Mateo pulling out his gun, the one that’s been inside me, and shooting Vince without remorse, just because he fucking can. I envision shocked faces around the dinner table, but all of us too afraid to defy Mateo, so we finish our dinner while Vince’s body grows cold right there on the ground next to us.

  “No,” Vince says, his finger in my face. “You shut up.”

  I do, not because I’m obeying, but because I’m a little shocked.

  “Fuck this,” Vince says again. “She’s mine. I never gave her up; I never said I didn’t want her… No.”

  Mateo doesn’t respond, and Vince doesn’t give anyone else a chance to. Locking his hand around my wrist, he drags me out of the dining room.

  My heart pounds as I scurry to keep up with him, glancing back nervously. “Are we allowed to do this?”

  “Everyone else takes what they want, why the fuck should I care?” he mutters.

  “I don’t think we’re allowed to leave Sunday dinner,” I point out.

  “Fuck Sunday dinner.”

  This feels more than a little reckless to me, but I don’t get the impression he’s interested in my opinion. I don’t know what’s going to happen, not right now, not tomorrow, but I guess I’m along for the ride either way.

  When we get to his room, Vince slams it shut, then backs me up toward the bed. My heart’s racing, doubtful about this whole thing. He said he couldn’t even look at me, so how’s this going to work?

  Also, he still looks angry. Here he is, with me in his bedroom, our bodies close enough to touch, but there’s a fire behind his brown eyes, burning up any tenderness I might have hoped to see there.

  He doesn’t speak to me. I think he’s going to, but it looks like he changes his mind. Instead, he grabs the bottom of my dress and hikes it up, startling me.

  Hands on my hips, he lets his gaze rake over my body. I glance down, noticing bruises on my thighs—marks left by Mateo.

  It seems to settle on Vince at the same time. His gaze frozen on my marked thighs, he swallows and takes a step back.

  I don’t want him to retreat, and I feel sick that he had to see that, but I don’t want him to pull away, so I take a step toward him.

  “Don’t think about it,” I say quietly.

  “How?” he asks. “It’s all I can think about.”

  “I didn’t want him. Doesn’t that count for something?”

  His lips curve up, his smile bitter. “Thing is, Mia, I don’t believe you.”

  “You don’t want to believe me,” I accuse, not understanding why. “How is it so hard to believe—?”

  “You were sitting in his study visiting with him when Adrian told him about a pick-up this weekend. He let you sit there—and no one was forcing you to be there.”

  “I was just trying to get along. I just wanted things to be amicable, I never thought… I never thought he’d actually force himself on me, Vince.”

  “Mateo doesn’t trust anyone, Mia. Least of all someone he’s giving reason to hate him.”

  “He wasn’t trusting me, he was setting me up,” I say, a little irritably. “For this, right here. You were right all along, he never intended to let me go because I saw you walk out of that goddamn house. Instead of telling you no, for whatever reason, he said as long as you want me, and then immediately began sabotaging us. I should’ve believed you. I don’t know… if it would’ve stopped this from happening, but maybe then you’d at least believe me.”

  “Now you know how I felt, trying to tell you what he was like and you not believing me. Calling me paranoid and crazy—treating me like I’m the asshole, when all I was trying to do was protect you.”

  “I get that now. I didn’t then. I have no frame of reference for this, Vince. I’ve never known people like that. I didn’t know how to navigate this world. I’m supposed to keep you happy, I’m supposed to be careful around him—I’m so fucking twisted up between the two of you.”

  His jaw locks again, and I can see his anger seeping out again. “I can’t stand to think about his hands on you. You’ve slept in his bed the past three nights—apparently you wake up tangled in his motherfucking arms every morning.”

  “He only said that to hurt you.”

  “Well, it fucking worked,” he says, raising his voice. “Why did you stay, Mia? If he hurt you, if you didn’t want him, if you were so goddamn afraid of losing me, why did you stay with him?”

  Shaking my head, I try to come up with an adequate explanation. “I didn’t think you wanted me to come back. I didn’t have anywhere else to go. It’s not like I get to leave here if you cast me aside, Vince. It’s not like I have options.”

  “You think I don’t know that?” he demands irritably. “It weighs on me every fucking day. It has since he brought you here, but now? Now I get to lie in my own goddamn bed with images of you spreading your legs for him, of his mouth on you—and you enjoying it.”

  I open my mouth to say I didn’t, but I can’t. Obviously the first two times I did enjoy it, I just… didn’t know it was him.

  He moves in again, giving me a light shove. I drop to the bed, scooting backward uncertainly. “Right here,” he says, pointing to the bed. “Is this where you let my cousin fuck you?”

  “You’re not being fair,” I tell him.

  “What about this morning, huh? Before you put on this pretty dress and came down to serve him dinner, did he fuck you then?”

  I close my eyes, unable to look at him, torn by too many different feelings—not least of all, shame.

  “He did,” he says slowly. “He’s been inside you today, hasn’t he?”

  “Please stop,” I say, not liking this.

  “Then get it out of my head!”

  “I don’t know how!” I cry, wishing I did. “You have to want to, Vince. I’m not a goddamn magician. Tell me how to make it better!”

  “Promise me he won’t touch you again.”

  With a bitter laugh, I shake my head. “How? How can I promise that? I can promise if he does, I’ll fight, but how do I promise you he won’t force me? You act like this is my doing. If I could stop him, I would have already!”

  “I’m gonna kill him,” he says, jaw locked as he spins around.

  “Don’t say that,” I say, immediately. “You don’t mean that
—”

  Spinning back around, he gapes at me in furious disbelief. “Are you fucking kidding me? Don’t you fucking defend him to me, Mia.”

  Stomach sinking, I shake my head in denial. “No, I wasn’t. That’s not what I… that’s not what I meant.”

  It’s on the tip of my tongue to point out that Cherie said there are cameras everywhere but the bathrooms, that I’ve been thinking about it over the past few days and I think maybe he does watch them. It’s awfully coincidental that as soon as Vince tells me he doesn’t want kids, Mateo decides to fuck me with no condom.

  But Vince isn’t listening—he’s enraged, climbing across the bed in my direction. I skitter back, nervous, and he catches my leg, yanking me down near him.

  “Vince, Wait—”

  “You tell me he fucking forces you and then you have the audacity to be protective of that son of a bitch?”

  “No, I wasn’t—”

  He doesn’t let me finish, jerking my dress up around my waist and shoving me down on the bed. I panic, trying to get back up, but he pins me to the bed just like Mateo has.

  “Is that what you like? Am I not dangerous enough for you, Mia?”

  “Vince, stop,” I cry, tears leaking out of my eyes now. “That wasn’t what I was—I’m not protective of Mateo—”

  “Stop fucking talking about him,” he bites out, grabbing my bruised thighs and wrenching them apart.

  “Please, Vince, not like this.”

  “I know I’m not the Morelli who last had his dick inside you in this bed, or even today, but I’ll have to fucking do.”

  I sob, dropping my face to the pillow as Vince shoves inside me. I’m already so sore from Mateo and he’s being so mean that every thrust burns like hell. I can’t stop crying the whole time, and when he finally finishes, I realize he’s not wearing a condom either. I don’t know whether he was so angry he forgot, or he figures if I do wind up pregnant, at least now there will be a sliver of a chance he’s the father.

  He doesn’t curl up next to me when he’s done, he just gets off the bed and goes to the bathroom, leaving me half-naked and alone.

  When he comes back out, he’s still angry. I can’t look at him, but I can tell by the way he’s slamming shit.

  Finally moving, I pull my legs together and curl up on my side, tucking myself into a ball.

  Vince stops pacing around the room after a few minutes and walks over to the bedside, watching me. He sits on the edge of the bed with his back to me, running a hand over his face and through his hair.

  “I shouldn’t have done that,” he finally says.

  I don’t know if he means brutalizing me or the lack of condom, and he doesn’t clarify.

  He’s close enough now that I don’t have to speak loudly. “The cameras.”

  Vince frowns, not understanding.

  “I just didn’t want him to hear you say that on the cameras. Didn’t want him to take it as a threat. He’d hurt you.”

  He’s dead silent so I glance up at him, watching understanding dawn, then morph into dull horror as he realizes his mistake. “You weren’t…?”

  I shake my head no. I can see he’s about to sink under the realization, and I don’t have the mental capacity left to deal with it today, so I ask, “Will you hold me?”

  Understandably surprised, he asks, “You want me to?”

  “It’s been a rough week,” I point out. I could use a little comfort, and there’s really nowhere else to get any.

  Sighing heavily, he yanks back the comforter and climbs on the bed. First he drapes the blanket over my body, like it can cover up what he just did, then he settles in behind me, pulling me into his arms. I lean into him, closing my eyes and wondering how the hell my life got turned upside down so completely in such a short stretch of time.

  Chapter Twenty Six

  Vince holds me for the rest of the night. I half expect someone to come summon at least one of us, but it never happens. I fall asleep sometime before the sun rises, but I’m still exhausted when I hear Vince’s alarm.

  I wait for him to turn it off, but after a minute, I roll over and see he isn’t there. I reach over to turn the damn thing off myself, rubbing my temple as my head throbs. It’s going to be a long day.

  Elise brings me breakfast, which she normally doesn’t, so I figure one of them must have told her to. I don’t ask which one. I don’t care.

  I can’t feel anything again today. Maybe I’ll snap out of it once I wake up, but right now? Nope.

  I don’t seek anyone out for a ride to school. There’s enough time to walk and I could use the fresh air.

  I’m halfway to school when I hear the car behind me, slowing to a stop. No stop sign in sight, so my stomach sinks with dread, expecting to look over and see Mateo, or at the very least, Adrian.

  When I look, however, there are two men I don’t recognize. My heartbeat skitters, wondering if these are Morelli flunkies, here to finish me off.

  There are two men in the sleek white car, one in a black leather jacket and a complexion a shade or so darker than Cherie’s with a bushy black mustache and pudgy apple cheeks. The other man has ruddy cheeks and wears a black leather jacket, his gut hanging over a pair of extremely unfashionable blue jeans.

  “Mia Mitchell?” Potbelly says.

  I cut a look in their direction, clutching my phone in my pocket.

  “Ma’am, are you Mia Mitchell?”

  “No,” I reply.

  Pressing his lips together, he says, “Ma’am, we know you are.”

  “Then why ask?” I respond, picking up the pace.

  The other man speaks up, “Miss Mitchell, we just need to ask you a few questions.”

  I finally stop, stomach dropping as Potbelly holds up a badge for me to see. “Now, please.”

  “Why?” I ask, even though I can guess.

  “We have a few questions, ma’am, just a few questions. It’ll only take a few moments of your time.”

  Swallowing, casting a gaze over my shoulder, I tell him, “I’ll be late to school.”

  “Hop on in, we’ll give you a ride.”

  My eyes widen in horror. “No! No, not… I can’t.”

  “Let me make it easy for you, Miss Mitchell. You can get in the car with us now and answer a few questions, then be on your way to school, or we can take you down to the station for questioning instead. Whichever’s easiest for you.”

  I remain on the sidewalk, my eyes searching the road behind me, making sure Mateo didn’t send anyone to follow me. Fear pierces the veil of numbness, ripping a hole down the middle and shedding it.

  “I can’t talk to you. I don’t know anything.”

  Throwing the car in park, Apple Cheeks waits while Potbelly opens the car door. “All right, down to the station it is.”

  “No,” I say quickly, heart hammering. “No, I’ll get in the car.”

  I look one last time before I open the back door and climb inside. Shifting my backpack in my lap, I try to calm my racing heart, afraid they’ll be able to see how nervous I am.

  “I didn’t do anything wrong,” I say.

  “No, we didn’t think you did, Miss Mitchell. Thing is, it’s come to our attention you’ve been spending time with the Morelli family lately.”

  “Is that a crime?” I ask.

  Potbelly chooses his words carefully. “Well, no. But it might not surprise you to hear they’re being investigated for several cases of wrongdoing. We looked into you, Miss Mitchell, and it just happens that you live right next door to one of those investigations.”

  Fear ties my stomach into knots, thinking of Vince. Thinking of the night of the fire, then the night he broke in to threaten me. God, what I’d give to go back to that being the scariest part of my day.

  “I don’t know what you mean,” I tell them.

  He reads off the address to the house next door to mine. “There’s nothing you could tell us about the fire that happened at that address?”

  “It was tragi
c,” I say, unhelpfully. “I heard they were doing drugs or something.”

  “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.