I should have tried to escape or to at least get word to my cousin of where we were although something told me he already knew our exact location. But for whatever reason he hadn’t made a move against Frankie. Did that make Frankie the scarier of the two?
I popped a forkful of pancakes into my mouth and chewed, holding back a moan at their delicious flavor. Pancakes made by the head of the mob were quite frankly the best breakfast food I’d had in my entire life. I quickly cut another bite, dipped it in more syrup, and shoved it in my mouth, my eyes going wide at the flavor.
I was three bites in when Frankie picked up his knife, placed it back down, and then use his fork to cut through his own stack. “How do you like them?”
I shrugged, playing indifferent. “They’re okay.”
One side of his lips tipped up into the smile I both loved and hated. The look said he knew exactly what I thought on the inside. “I’ll have to try harder next time.”
I cut off another piece of pancake but shoved it in my mouth slower than my other bites. He already had a large head, and I didn’t owe Frankie anything. He’d forced me into his home against my will, but since getting me here there, he’d been nothing but nice. Guilt over my lackluster response to his amazing breakfast forced me to swallow half of my pride. Not all of it. But like twenty-five percent.
I finished up my bite and rolled my eyes, making sure he saw the action. “No, they’re wonderful,” I said, telling the truth.
His stupid little smirk only rose to push his lips even higher on his cheeks, as if he’d known all along.
Jerk.
I contemplated refusing to eat the rest of my breakfast just to be spiteful, but it was too amazing to allow his smugness to take away from the delicious food.
I was almost finishing up my stack of pancakes when a phone rang. It’d been so many days since I had control of my phone the sound broke through our silent eating and startled me. Frankie tapped his finger on the table next to the phone and smiled at whoever was calling. I did my best to pretend I wasn’t trying to sneak a glance while at the same time trying to read the name. I dropped my fork as the phone rang again and Westley’s flashed on the screen.
“It’s a video call,” Frankie said, picking up the phone and holding it out between us. “Would you like to talk to your cousin?”
I reached out hesitantly but didn’t grab the phone as it rang a third time. “You’ll really let me talk to him? Answer your phone?” I was waiting for something to fall out from the ceiling and grab me if I touched it.
Frankie only pushed it a little closer until my fingers touched and I grabbed on the fourth ring, swiping my thumb across the screen.
“Try looking distressed rather than well-fed and happy,” Frankie whispered as the video on his phone picked up my face. I swallowed and scowled into the image, and then Westley’s face came into view.
“Shiloh!” he yelled, as if he couldn’t contain himself from seeing me on the call. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m fine, Westley,” I said and then almost laughed at Frankie’s frown.
“How is he keeping you there? Has he hurt you in any way?” Westley demanded to know.
I shook my head and bit my bottom lip, not wanting to answer any of his questions. Westley may have been mad that Frankie took me, but he’d be even more upset to learn that I hadn’t even tried to get away. I was twenty-four hours past the excuse of saying I wanted to learn the weaknesses of my captor. I never attempted an escape while at the bakery or from my private room. Frankie was right to warn me to act worse off than I was because I didn’t know how to explain my behavior to my cousin. Who let someone kidnap them and then didn’t even try to escape?
“I said I’m fine,” I tried again, putting annoyance into the words.
He growled across the line. “Hand the phone to Zanetti,” he demanded. My lips pursed again, but I handed the electronic device over to Frankie.
It was just like my cousin to be rude and demand things. Frankie would’ve had a pleasant conversation with me. Maybe try to talk me into escaping. Or at the least told me he was coming to my rescue.
But rather than compare Frankie to my cousin, I went back to my pancakes, pretending I wasn’t listening even though I took in every word the two men said to each other.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of your call this morning?” Frankie asked.
My cousin laughed, making a sound I’d heard more than once. It didn’t mean good things. It was a harbinger of the worst. “I want you to see my latest project.”
Frankie drew in an audible annoyed grunt that was enough to pique my interest, so I leaned over in my chair to get a view of the phone. He laid it on the table between us and we both watched the screen, which no longer had an image of my cousin’s face but seemed to watch a video feed on his computer screen.
“That’s my building,” Frankie said.
Indeed, the image was of a big long warehouse made of white concrete brick. Four bay doors at the back had a multitude of windows scattered haphazardly around them, like the construction crew had put in a window wherever they felt like it with no rhyme or reason.
I didn’t see anyone walking around the building or any movement at all, and I couldn’t figure out why he was so annoyed. Why did my cousin have a video feed of Frankie’s abandoned property?
“I sent a few of my men to check out your operation, and they said they found structural weaknesses in this building. Do you know what we do with weakness in Chicago?” my cousin asked, and all too quickly, the reality of the situation hit me.
