by Sophia Gray
“Okay, okay!” Maggie yelled. “Let go! You're hurting me!”
Amelia released Maggie's hair, then frowned at it disapprovingly. “Now look what you've made me do. We'll have to brush your hair all over again.” She picked up the brush and ran it through Maggie's hair roughly, pulling it hard with each stroke.
Maggie tried not to show how agonizing it was, but tears welled up in her eyes. The rest of her life stretched out before her like an endless corridor to hell. Either she could relent and choose one of her suitors to be her husband, or her parents would take away the few comforts she had and force her to marry one of these pathetic gangsters anyway before she became too old to be considered a valuable commodity.
Because that was all she was. Something to be displayed proudly and sold off to the highest bidder. She couldn't help but think of herself as little more than a whore, and her own father was her pimp. What a sick joke.
And if she played the role of the dutiful daughter and went along with it, then what? A marriage that was little more than a formality, with a man who'd probably have his way with her anytime he felt like it, however he liked it, whether she wanted it or not.
A man who might beat her whenever he had a bad day, while everyone who claimed to care about her looked the other way and said, “As long as she's wearing his ring, it's none of our business.”
A man who'd probably start seeing other women before the ink on their marriage license was even dry, bringing home feeble excuses and diseases.
A man who'd likely end up dead, missing, or in prison, like so many of her “uncles” and “cousins” had.
For a savage moment, she thought about how satisfying it might be to actually take steps to make that happen—to sell her husband out to rival mobsters, or to the FBI. He'd be gone, she'd be free, everything he had would be hers, and there would be nothing Turo could do about it.
But if anyone ever found out, could she really expect her father to protect her? Or would he simply shake his head sadly and wash his hands of her?
Normal girls my age don't have to think about any of this, she thought bitterly. Normal girls my age get to go to college and date around and fall in love and eat whatever they want. They aren't locked away and treated like living dolls by their parents. They don't have their lives controlled by criminals, or worry about the Feds breaking down their doors at two in the morning.
“There,” her mother said, finishing Maggie's makeup. “Doesn't that look better?”
Maggie didn't answer.
Chapter 9
Maggie
Maggie stood on Decatur Street as the sun began to set. A block away, the open-air dining area of the Cafe Du Monde was filled with chattering tourists. They munched on beignets and sipped coffee, laughing and snapping photos of each other with powdered sugar caked on their lips.
Had she ever even been allowed to eat a beignet? She couldn't even remember. She tried to imagine the fried dough and sticky sugar in her mouth, but she had no point of reference. It seemed like she'd been forced to subsist on rabbit food her entire life.
Next to her, Adamo stood like a statue, his eyes scanning for trouble as his hand hovered near his shoulder. Maggie had known Adamo her entire life, but he still made her extremely nervous. Even though he'd always been polite to her, his black eyes reminded her of camera lenses. There was no joy in them, no pity, no detectable emotion of any kind. They simply took in everything they could, darkly reflecting the world around them.
If I ever did betray the family and try to get away, he's the one they'd send after me, she thought with a shudder. I'd wake up one night and he'd be standing next to my bed, ready to press a pillow over my face and fire a bullet through it to silence me forever.
The idea was scary, but she found a forlorn comfort in it, too. At least then it would be over. No more tasteless meals. No more being told what to do. Nothing but endless peace where her mother and father could never hurt her again.
“So, two guards this time, huh?” Maggie said, trying to distract herself from these morbid thoughts. “That seems like overkill.”
“It wasn't my decision,” Adamo said in his creaky, whispery voice. “Your father always insists one of his own people accompany you, since he would never trust your safety to anyone else. This arrangement has always been considered acceptable by the young men who've previously escorted you. However, your date this evening said it was extremely important to him that his own bodyguard join us, as well.”
“Wouldn't Dad generally take that as an insult?”
Adamo nodded gravely. “Yes. He generally would. But in this instance, he seems inclined to make special allowances for this young man.”
“It doesn't sound like you like this Gabe guy very much,” Maggie observed.
Adamo furrowed his brow. “I haven't decided yet. He seems...flashy, somehow. Flamboyant. But I serve at the pleasure of your father, and I do as I am told.”
Suddenly, Adamo tensed up visibly, and Maggie followed his gaze. Two men were approaching them. It was hard not to notice the larger one first, since he looked like some kind of huge, misshapen boulder. His small eyes peered out from his doughy face, fixed on the ground in front of him. With his belly bulging under his white dress shirt, his expensive black suit, and the way he waddled slowly and carefully, he resembled a monstrous, bloated penguin. The image made Maggie want to giggle, but she held it in.
Then her eyes went to the man next to him, and her breath caught in her throat.
He was the most gorgeous man she'd ever seen.
His black hair was slicked back, revealing a sharp widow's peak. His eyes twinkled with mischief. While most men in her father's line of work walked like they had a sledgehammer swinging between their knees, this man had a smooth, easy stride, as though he didn't have a care in the world. His shoulders were broad, and his torso tapered down to his waist in a perfect V-shape. He held a bouquet of red roses in his right hand.
Had Adamo described this guy as “flashy?” No, that was too coarse, not specific enough. He walked around like he owned the whole damn town, and he was doing everyone a big favor by letting them stay.
He saw her and smiled, waving.
She caught herself waving back, and felt embarrassed. Okay, so he was good-looking and knew how to carry himself. So what? It didn't mean he was any different from the rest of them. He was probably just another vain, empty-headed, self-important prick who thought he was a big deal because he inherited his father's name instead of working his way up from a small-time bruiser to a capo. He'd flash his suave smile and say all the right things to try to charm her, but all he'd really care about is marrying his way into her father's money.
Still, it was hard not to look at him and imagine his hands on her body, or what that lithe torso might feel like pressed against hers.
Maggie tried to keep her expression neutral as the two men reached them.
“You must be Margherita,” the thinner one said warmly.
“If I must,” she replied tightly.
He laughed. “Hey, that's good! My name is Gabriele De Luca. Call me Gabe. My friend here is Rodolfo. Here, these are for you.” He handed her the bouquet.
“Red roses,” she said wearily. “How original. I guess now I'll have to carry them with me during our whole date, huh?”
Gabe appeared to give this some thought, then shrugged nonchalantly. “Yeah, I guess you're right. That was a dumb idea on my part, and red roses are pretty hokey.” He took the bouquet back and casually dropped it into a nearby trashcan. “When it's time to bring you back to your place, we can stop by a flower shop and find something that suits you better. That way, you can toss them in a vase as soon as you get home instead of lugging them around all evening like you're someone's prom date. Sound good?”
Maggie raised her eyebrows. Who was this guy? He seemed completely unflappable. “Sure, whatever,” Maggie said. “Let's just go to dinner and get this over with.”
As they started to walk down t
he street, Rodolfo sidled up to Adamo. Their feet got tangled together, and before Maggie knew what was happening, Adamo started to fall forward. Rodolfo moved in quickly, catching Adamo before he could hit the ground and lifting him back up again.
“Whoa! Are you guys okay?” Gabe asked.
Rodolfo tried to brush off Adamo's lapels, but Adamo shoved him away, snarling. “You just tripped me. On purpose.”
“Hey, come on, I'm sure that's not true,” Gabe assured him, turning to Rodolfo. “You didn't trip him, did you?”
Rodolfo shook his head.
“There, see? It was probably just a crack in the sidewalk or something,” said Gabe.
Adamo's glassy black eyes were locked onto Rodolfo. “First you trip me, and then you call me a liar, you disgusting whale? What's the matter with you?”
Rodolfo bristled, his pudgy fingers curling into fists.
“There's no need for that kind of talk,” Gabe said. “Let's just stay calm, all right? No one's calling anyone a liar. Rodolfo doesn't seem to think he tripped you, and if he did, it must have been an accident. Whichever it is, it's fine, there's no harm done, and it's no reason to ruin our night. People trip all the time. Let's just shake it off and head to the restaurant like adults.”
Adamo clenched his teeth, nodding slowly. “Fine. Just make sure it doesn't happen again.”
Gabe laughed. “Sure, tough guy. I'll wave my magic wand and make sure you don't trip on any more loose bricks between here and dinner. You should loosen up, you know that?”
Maggie tried to hide her surprise, but she was astonished. She had never seen anyone so openly unafraid of Adamo before.
Forty minutes later, Maggie was sitting across a table from Gabe at Laveau's Bistro on Ursulines Avenue. She morosely rearranged the salad on her plate, not bothering to eat any of it. Gabe eagerly devoured a platter of crawfish etouffee over rice. Rodolfo and Adamo sat at a nearby table, surveying the room for potential threats.
“Aren't you going to eat anything?” asked Gabe, looking at her plate. “This is a dinner date, after all.”
“No,” she replied woodenly. “I don't want you to think I'm a pig who's going to gain weight after we get married.”
Gabe looked confused. “I'm not sure if you're trying to insult me or yourself or what, but seriously, you should eat whatever you want. You're already skinny. No one's going to judge you for having a decent meal.”
Maggie stole a glance at Adamo, knowing he'd report back to her mother at the end of the night. “No, thanks. I'm fine.”
“Suit yourself. So, what do you like to do for fun?”
The spicy, enticing aroma of Gabe's meal made Maggie's stomach grumble painfully. If he heard, he pretended not to notice. “What difference does it make?” she sighed.
“Well, kind of a big difference, actually. See, I happen to think it's important to communicate and determine mutual areas of interest during a first date, just to figure out whether there should be a second one. If I wanted to sit across from someone who doesn't talk and doesn't eat, I'd go out with a mannequin.”
“So why don't you, then?” Maggie snapped.
Gabe looked genuinely puzzled and hurt. “I'm afraid I'm a little perplexed, here. Did I do something to piss you off? Because if I did, I apologize. I mean, this date wasn't even my idea. Your father thought we might hit it off, so—”
“He doesn't care if we hit it off or not,” she answered. “Let me venture a guess, Gabe: you've got something my father wants, right? Some new way for him to make more money.”
“I, uh, guess I do, actually,” Gabe said uncomfortably. “I'm not really supposed to talk about it...”
“That's fine, because I don't want to hear about it. Drugs, guns, political connections...I don't care about any of it, because it all amounts to the same thing. The bottom line is, this is a transaction for him, nothing more. He doesn't care if I like you or hate you. He'll still sell me to you.”
“Jeez, that's pretty rough,” Gabe said gently. “I'm sorry. That's awful, truly. My father's in the family business, too, but he never treated me like that.”
“Yeah, well, it must be nice to be born a boy instead of a girl.”
Gabe thought for a moment, then put down his fork and reached into his pocket, flipping a couple of bills onto the table. He stood up. “Come on, let's go.”
“Where?”
“I'm going to take you home,” Gabe said. “I had no idea you were doing this against your will. If you don't want to be on a date with me, you shouldn't have to be.” He gestured to Rodolfo, who stood up, too. Adamo followed suit.
“But...what are you going to tell my father?” The idea of Turo blaming her for cutting their date short made her feel uneasy.
Gabe shrugged. “I can tell him whatever you want. I'll blame myself, tell him I was too distracted about my dad to have fun with you tonight. I warned him that might happen anyway. Now I can see why he didn't listen, what with him trying to marry you off and everything. Christ, I feel terrible about this whole thing.”
“What do you mean?” she asked. “Why would you be distracted by your dad?”
Gabe waved her off. “Doesn't matter. Don't worry about it. Let's just call it a night.”
Maggie followed Gabe outside, with Rodolfo and Adamo right behind them. She didn't know how to react to all of this. The other men Turo had set her up with seemed to know she was being dangled in front of them as a prize, but they hadn't cared. By contrast, Gabe seemed genuinely unnerved by it.
Could he be different from the others after all?
As they started down the street, they heard an engine roaring toward them. A large black van pulled up with “Twisted Saints – War Chariot” painted on the side. The side door slid open and eight bikers got out. Maggie had never seen any members of the Twisted Saints MC before, but she'd heard her father mention them in passing when discussing business, and the patches on their leather vests identified them clearly. Their leader wore tags which said “Hammer” and “President.”
And they were all carrying sawed-off shotguns.
“Get down, Maggie!” Gabe yelled, pushing her to the ground behind a parked car. He drew a handgun from his shoulder holster, and Rodolfo and Adamo did the same, leveling their weapons at the bikers. The other people on the street were already screaming and fleeing in terror. Inside the restaurant, the diners who were seated near the windows ducked under their tables or ran toward the kitchen in the back.
“This is for ripping us off, you goddamn dago cocksuckers!” Hammer hollered. “We're taking the big man's daughter as payback!”
A moment later, both sides were blasting at each other. Their gunshots split the air like thunderclaps, and Maggie pressed her palms against her ears, trying to catch a glimpse of the shootout through the car's windows.
She'd never seen anything like it before outside of a movie. The air was full of gun smoke, and muzzle flashes flickered like lightning. The Saints were firing wildly—it looked like they were trying to blanket the entire area with buckshot, but they didn't seem to be hitting much.
Rodolfo and Adamo fired from partial cover behind the parked car. Maggie saw one of Rodolfo's shots hit a biker high in the shoulder, while one of Adamo's bullets connected with another biker's leg, sending him to the ground. Blood spattered and spurted on the pavement under the Saints.
But Gabe wasn't taking any cover. He stood his ground firmly as though he were invulnerable to gunfire, aiming carefully with each shot. He put two bullets squarely into a fat biker's chest, then two more in another biker's stomach. Both of them fell to the ground immediately—Maggie wasn't sure, but they looked dead.
Hammer looked at the fallen bikers, howling with rage. “You fucking bastard! You killed Lash and Cobra!”
“And now I'm going to kill you, meathead,” Gabe responded calmly.
He squeezed the trigger, and a red hole appeared in the center of Hammer's forehead. The biker dropped to the pavement.
“Fuc
k, they wasted Hammer!” one of the other Saints yelled. “Let's get the hell out of here!”
The bikers who were still able to stand collected their fallen comrades, including the dead bodies, and dragged them back into the van. The side door slid shut behind them and the van drove away, its tires screeching loudly.
“Are you all right?” Gabe asked, crouching down to examine Maggie. “Did you get hit?”
“No, I'm fine,” Maggie said. But her entire body was trembling, and her mind was clanging with incoherent terror. “Those men...they were going to...”
“It's okay, they won't be coming after you anymore,” Gabe assured her. He turned to Adamo. “Rodolfo and I will get her out of here before the cops show up. You should report back to Turo and let him know she's safe.”
