Warped (The Mercenary Series Book 2)

by Marissa Farrar

  I exhaled a sigh. “Just get out of my room, Stefano. I need to get dressed or Tony is going to be pissed with both of us.”

  Tony’s name had the desired result, and Stefano gave me a final scowl before leaving me to get dressed.

  I glanced over at the empty bed beside me. Where was Nicole?

  Tony had sent someone out to buy us new clothes the day after we’d been brought here. Anticipating what was to come, I chose a smart pair of pants and a blouse instead of my usual jeans and t-shirt combo. Nerves caused my stomach to swirl and my hands to shake. I might have had it completely wrong, and Tony wanted me for something else, but I couldn’t imagine what that would be. I wondered what I’d be able to say to the lawyers. Part of me wondered what would happen if I told them Tony was keeping us here against our will. Would they do something about it? But I knew I couldn’t say anything. Nicole would still be here when I was with the lawyers. They’d hurt her if I tried to do something stupid, and I figured Tony most likely had someone in the court on the payroll. Besides, even if I was allowed to walk freely around New York—to go home, even—I’d most likely end up dead. My father’s men would come after me within a few hours, and someone would probably find my body in a dumpster not long after. I could run, but then I wouldn’t be able to testify.

  I had no choice.

  I just had to put my father behind bars and put up with Tony’s controlling ways in order to have his protection, and then I would be able to think about my future. Whatever the hell that may be.

  I used the bathroom quickly, washing my face and scrubbing my teeth, pulling my hair into a ponytail at my nape. The long sleeves of the shirt hid my tattoos, and I almost appeared conservative and respectable.

  I left the bedroom to find Stefano waiting outside. His eyebrows lifted as he caught sight of me, and he gave a low whistle. “Wow, you scrub up all right.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Thanks, I guess.”

  He led me through the property to Tony’s office. I didn’t need a chaperone, but I’d given up trying to argue. Stefano would be armed, where there was no way I’d be allowed to have a weapon. Even my trusty knife had been taken off me, and I felt naked without it. I wasn’t allowed to go anywhere on my own these days, and while it drove me crazy, I also knew I couldn’t bitch about it. Not having someone armed around me might mean my death. I was poised at any moment for a drive by shooting, or for someone inside Tony’s family to turn on him and kill me. That kind of thing happened all the time. I literally felt as though every breath I took might be my last, and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it.

  A familiar figure headed toward me down the hall. I frowned at my sister. “Hey, where are you going?”

  Nicole smiled at me as she passed, ignoring my frown. “I’ve got lessons to attend.”

  She was walking toward the library at the back of the property, and as I watched her go, I saw someone step out of the library door to meet her.

  Tony had brought in a tutor from outside so she could continue with her learning while she was here. It was the tutor who had stepped out to meet her now, and he caught me watching and glanced away, not meeting my eye. He was far too young to be her tutor—mid-twenties at the most. He must have barely qualified. I made a mental note to mention my concerns to Tony, though if Nickie wanted that particular tutor, I had the feeling she would get him no matter what I said. She was the one who had singlehandedly exposed us in Witness Protection, and she had a way of getting what she wanted.

  My thoughts went back to our time under new identities. In Witness Protection, we’d been living behind the protection of our new names and lives, but that had been a lie. Every word that had come out of my mouth had been a lie. Now we were living under a different kind of security, but at least everyone knew who I was. I was able to speak without worrying I was going to say something wrong.

  When I’d been in Witness Protection, I hadn’t been able to see any further ahead than the trial. I felt that same way now—I could only see as far as me testifying. I had no idea what would happen after that. But there had been a moment, with X, when I’d allowed myself to think about the possibility of a different future. He’d tried to talk to me about it, but I’d shut him down. I regretted that now, though a part of me was also thankful I didn’t know. Would it have made losing him harder, having him tell me he wanted to be with me, that we’d go on to have a life together? Or would it have given me something to hold onto in the middle of the night when I felt his absence the most?

  But we were living in constant fear of retaliation. My father knew I was alive, and he had already promised he would make sure I wouldn’t be able to testify against him. I knew what that meant—he would make sure I was dead before I could take the stand. I couldn’t go anywhere without anticipating bullets flying at any minute. Nickie told me I was being paranoid and that I needed to chill the fuck out, but she wasn’t the one being targeted. Tony had been treating her well enough, and I couldn’t help but wonder what his reason had been to bring her here. He’d said he wanted to use her against my father, but so far I hadn’t seen any sign of him doing that. We were fed meals, had our bedroom, weren’t hit or threatened. But we weren’t free, and that was the most important part. We had to request anything we needed, and trips to the stores for clothing or toiletries would be done under heavy security. I guessed I should be thankful that Tony let us out at all—he could just as easily have kept us under lock and key, and have other people bring us the things we needed. If he hadn’t shot X, I would have thought Tony wasn’t such a bad guy. I tried not to think about the things X had told me about him—how when he was younger Tony used to tear people’s faces off with his teeth, which was how he got his name. He was doing what he promised and keeping me safe so I would be able to testify against my father. Tony wanted to see my father, Mickey Five Fingers, go down for as long as I did.

  I didn’t know what would happen after the trial. Would he kill me then? Throw me in the Hudson River so my body could join X’s. He would have no use for me that I could think of.

  My sister was different. She could be used as a bargaining tool any time my father and his mafia family stepped out of line. Tony planned on encroaching onto my father’s business as soon as he was behind bars for good; that much I knew. Nicole would be the one with a knife held to her throat any time my father ordered his guys to fight back.

  I just hoped there wouldn’t come a point where my father had had enough and told Tony to use the knife and be done with it.

  With my father, I certainly wouldn’t put it past him.

  Stefano led me through the property, though I knew exactly where I was going, to the part of the house inhabited solely by Tony. Most of the mafia dons had families of their own—wives and children, and the vast majority had girlfriends on the side as well, something their wives knew about but ignored. Tony, however, hadn’t bothered to marry. When I’d asked him about his single status, he’d first laughed and asked if I was interested, to which I rolled my eyes, and then he’d told me he was too busy for relationships. He said having loved ones only gave your enemies something to use against you. Considering my current situation, I figured he had a point.

  We stopped outside of his office door, and Stefano stepped forward, rapped his knuckles against the wood, and then moved back again.

  “Enter,” Tony called.

  Stefano gave me a glance, his eyebrows raised, and then pushed open the door for me.

  Tony was sitting at his desk. He nodded toward the large, old fashioned phone sitting on top of it. “You have a phone call, Verity.”

  My heart leapt. I did? My stupid heart and mind instantly jumped to thoughts of X, but that was ridiculous. Even if he was still alive, he wouldn’t call me here.

  “Who is it?” I asked, instead.

  “Detective Caraway.”

  My heart tripped for a different reason. He was the cop in charge of putting my father behind bars. I’d had to give this phone number as the o
ne to contact me on should I be needed, and the only reason they’d need to speak to me would be to make sure I was still alive, or talk to me about the case.

  I took a breath and lifted the receiver. Would he still be there? It had been ages since Stefano had come up to get me. If he’d said the detective was on the line for me, I would have hustled a little.

  “Hello, Detective?”

  I heard him exhale a sigh of irritation. “Ms. Guerra, I was about to give up on you.”

  “Sorry. I was sleeping.”

  Tony leaned over and pressed a button which put the phone on speaker. The handset was designed to look old fashioned, but it apparently did everything a modern phone did. I shot Tony a glare, but there was nothing I could do about it. I understood that he wouldn’t want me making any arrangements without him hearing.

  “Well, you’re awake now. I’m sure you’ve guessed what this call is concerning.”

  “My father.” My voice came out strangled. I cleared my throat and tried again, sounding stronger. “The case against my father.”

  “That’s right. We’d like to send some officers over to you to escort you to court tomorrow morning. You won’t be testifying then, of course, but the lawyers from both sides of the case will need to interview you.”

  I shot another glance over to Tony. He was slowly shaking his head. ‘We’ll escort you,’ he mouthed at me.

  My heart sank. “Sorry, Detective, but I don’t need your officers here. I have my own friends who can take me.”

  “You need to be safe, Verity.”

  “They’ll be enough to protect me, Detective. I think we both know that.”

  They knew exactly who Tony the Hound was and what crimes he’d committed, but it was like most of the top people in the mafia. They knew he’d committed the crimes, but they couldn’t get any shit to stick. That was why it was so important I stayed alive long enough to send my father down. No one else was stupid enough to do it. The cops also treaded carefully around me because they wanted my father to go down, too. All it would take was me being intimidated into not doing it, so I simply turned around and said no. Then their case would fall apart.

  “I just want you to stay safe, Verity.” His tone had softened, and I noted how he’d switched to using my first name. I was thankful no one called me Viola anymore.

  Ugh, how I’d hated that name, though I did miss the way X had called me Vee.

  “Thank you, Detective. What time do you need me there?”

  “Nine sharp.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  Chapter Four

  X

  I was dreaming of chasing and being chased.

  I ran from a man with a gun, shots being fired at me, which I darted and ducked. I followed a woman up ahead, tall and slender, her black hair flying out behind her as she ran. I wanted to catch up with her, was more worried about that than dodging the bullets behind me. She cast a glance back over her shoulder and caught sight of me, her dark, almond shaped eyes widening. I wanted to tell her to stop, that it was only me, and I’d help her, but she seemed frightened. I opened my mouth to shout her name, but nothing would come out. I knew her name, I was certain of it, but the more I tried to yell it, the further it retreated in my mind…

  ***

  I burst from sleep, gasping, and sitting upright in the hospital bed. Daylight streamed through the window, cutting lines through the slats of the blind.

  The dream stayed with me and I pondered it over. My subconscious was trying to remind me of things my conscious mind had forgotten. It had been twenty-four hours since I’d regained consciousness, and I was feeling stronger, but my memory seemed no closer to returning. I’d have to leave the hospital soon, and I still had no idea where to go, or in fact, who I was before I’d woken up here. The doctors kept reassuring me that my memory would start returning to me. Normally, they would bring in loved ones with photographs and video clips, things to try to restore my memory. I would be taken home to be surrounded in what would be familiar, and gradually things would start coming back to me. The doctors told me that it was perfectly normal to suffer some memory loss after such a traumatic event such as almost dying. They’d done scans of my brain and there was no physical reason why I didn’t remember what had happened.

  Part of me wondered if I simply didn’t want to remember.

  When I tried to think back, I was filled with unease, like I’d eaten something rotten, or said something I knew I shouldn’t have.

  Who was the woman from my dream?

  The young doctor who’d been there when I’d first woken up approached me. He had a serious expression, and for a moment I had the crazy idea that he’d seen into my dream and understood what type of person I was.

  “You’re making a speedy recovery, which is good news, but the question arises that we need to figure out where you’re going to go when you leave here.”

  “You don’t need to worry about me, Doctor. I’m an adult. I can take care of myself.”

  “I understand that, but you have been through a traumatic event, plus your continued memory loss is concerning.”

  “More is coming back to me all the time.”

  He smiled, encouragingly. “That’s good to hear.” Then his expression grew serious again. “I hate to talk about money when you’ve been through so much, but you understand that we’re going to have to take a swipe of your credit card for the hospital bill. I’m guessing you don’t have any paperwork for insurance anywhere around?”

  I could only give a shrug as an answer. I was pretty sure I didn’t have health insurance, though I had no idea if there would be enough credit on the card to cover whatever ridiculous sized bill they were going to throw at me. I figured a week’s hospital stay with an induced coma and gunshot wound was going to come to a decent amount.

  “That’s fine. I understand.”

  The number came back to me. One, three, nine, nine.

  Another number came with it—two, four, one, four, nine. What did that mean?

  Chapter Five

  V

  I sat in an interview room in the courthouse, opposite the prosecution lawyer, Caroline Bailey. I was trying to focus on everything she was saying to me, and not zone out. I’d not slept well the previous night, worrying about what was going to happen today, and if someone would try to do something to stop me getting to the courthouse. Between my palms, I cupped a now almost cold mug of bitter coffee, which rested on the table between us. A large file of paperwork sat in front of the lawyer, which she referred to repeatedly as she asked me question after question.

  My stomach churned with nerves, and I felt lightheaded, as though I wasn’t really there. I hadn’t expected this part to be so hard. I’d been preparing myself for the moment in court when I’d be forced to face my father again and tell a room full of people all the details I knew about the bad things he’d done, but I hadn’t thought this part would be difficult. I wasn’t someone who was easily intimidated, but everything about this place felt intimidating—from the massive stone pillars outside the entrance to the huge marbled interior.

  Two of Tony’s men, Paulie and Warren, had driven me here. They’d had to leave their firearms in the car, but I knew they waited for me outside. Tony wouldn’t allow me any chance of meeting with someone else, or have someone approaching me without him knowing about it.

  I kept feeling like the lawyer was going to trip me up and I’d make a mistake. Caroline Bailey went through the same questions over and over again, asking the same thing in different ways, until I felt like I didn’t know what I was saying anymore. I needed to get a grip on myself. This wasn’t like me. I needed to remember the person I’d become—the cool, hard bitch who would kill someone if necessary.

  “I’m sorry,” said Ms. Bailey, who, with her dark skin, corkscrew curls, and beautiful chocolate brown eyes, looked too pretty to be the bulldog everyone made her out to be. “I know this is hard for you, but this is what the defense is going to do when you’re on t
he stand. You know that, right? They’re going to twist every little thing you say in order to make it look like you’re either lying or you’re omitting the truth. They will want to discredit you and will bring up any tiny thing to make you look like an unreliable witness. If you’re finding it hard with me now, it will be a hundred times worse when you’re in a courtroom full of people, and your father sitting right across from you.”

  I nodded. “I understand. I’m fine, I promise.”

  But beads of sweat had broken out across my forehead and my armpits grew damp, my shirt clinging to my skin. I kept my arms clamped to my sides, not wanting the lawyer to notice. The truth was I had a ton of stuff in my past, which, if brought up on the stand, would make me look like a terrible witness. But I was relying on people either not knowing about those things—such as the man I had killed, who had raped Nicole when she was fourteen—or else that people would be too scared to get involved. I hadn’t lived an innocent, careful life. Far from it.

  “Okay, good,” she said, looking back down at her paperwork. “Now, how about we talk about the main thing that brought you here,” she glanced back up at me, “the death of your mother.”

  I nodded and swallowed hard again. My stomach was churning and the room felt distant.

  “That’s right,” I said. “My father shot my mother, and I saw the whole thing.”

  Chapter Six

  X

  “Mr. Mason, I have some good news for you.”

  I was already sitting up in bed when the doctor walked in. I was feeling stronger, and I was sure if the medical team had somewhere to put me, they’d have discharged me by now. I wanted to leave as well, but I had no idea where I was supposed to go. All I had to my name was a credit card, which the medical bill had most likely maxed out, and a driver’s license. Did I even have a car? I had no clue, and neither did anyone else.