So who, then?
Could be some other family was offended that I wasn’t offered to them instead of the Rizzos. Or maybe it’s some random gangsters who kidnap for a living. Still, they went through a lot of trouble to get me… random kidnappers would choose an easier target, I think. So I don’t know.
Either way, if I see a way to escape I’m going to take it. I have to. I can’t do anything at the moment, of course. But I’ll keep my eye out.
I think of how Maurizio fell as he shoved me into the Land Rover. I can still see my other guards, Federico and Donato, their bodies shaking as bullets riddle their chests. Tears fill my eyes. These kidnappers are merciless. I can only imagine what they’ll do to me if they don’t get what they want from my father.
I blink the tears away and focus on the present moment. I need some questions answered. Though I’m afraid of them, I have to at leasttryto extract some information from these men. Maybe they can be bargained with.
I look at the big man. He senses my gaze and turns those blue eyes on me. They seem no less angry than before. So icy, so full of hate. Not a man to cross.
I have to try, no matter how afraid I am…
So I collect my nerves and tell him: “Please, let me go. I’ve done nothing to you. I just want to go home.”
I glance between him and the driver but neither answer me. The big man merely blinks calmly.
“My father is well known in Palermo,” I continue, doing my best to blunt the tremble in my voice. Not sure how well it’s working. “He can pay whatever ransom you want. Just send him a note, so we can end this.”
Again, nothing.
“Whoever’s paying you, I offer double,” I tell him. I sound so weak. So unsure of myself. “Triple. Just make the call.” When still they don’t say anything, in frustration I can’t help saying: “Fine. But when my father rips off your heads and feeds them to his dogs, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
That’s the most confident I’ve sounded yet and I’m surprised when the anger in the big man’s eyes fades to amusement of all things. He turns away.
“You think this is funny?” I ask him in a shaky voice.
In answer, he opens the hidden compartment beside him and rests the gun on the shelf once more.
I freeze when I see the gun. It takes all the strength I have to turn away; even when it’s no longer visible, I’m still trembling because I know it’s still sitting there out in the open. I do my best not to think about it.
For a moment I consider flinging myself into the ocean. But I have nowhere to go, and they’d merely haul me back into the boat and I’d spend the rest of the trip miserable and soaking wet in the backseat. Maybe when we’re closer to shore I’ll try something.
Eventually land appears in the distance. I recognize it as the island of Ustica. How fitting, seeing as the island used to serve as a prison during Italy’s fascist days. It’s my prison, now.
We head toward a cove. It contains a beach shielded from both sides by extensive rock outcrops. A gaping hole at the bottom of one of the outcrops hints at a cave system. I mentioned the island once served as a prison, but before that it was also a base of operations for Saracen pirates. Not surprising, considering across the island irregular inlets, coves and cave systems like this exist.
In the cove ahead I don’t see a pier, or any boats moored, and I don’t spot any people. I do however notice a lone car parked on the sand. A Fiat. There’s the barest outline of a trail heading away from the beach through the wormwood and mastic trees beyond.
I subtly slip off my mary janes.
As we get closer, the big man reaches into that compartment beside him and removes a small black sack. When he reaches for me, I realize he intends to slip it over my head.
No thanks.
I slip out of his grasp and hurl myself over the boat.
I hit the water. The Tyrrhenian Sea isn’t very warm this time of year, and the chill knocks the breath out of me.
I head toward shore, doing my best front crawl impersonation. My technique is crap—I was never really a good swimmer, and my loose blouse drags against my skin, slowing me down even more. I’m not going to make it.
Should have waited until I was closer to shore.
The way these choppy waves are yanking at me, I’m probably going to drown before either of the kidnappers can fetch me. Maybe that’s for the best.
Water gets into my mouth and I swallow it.
I can’t hear anything above my frantic splashes and coughing. Then, a strong arm wraps around me and pulls me backward. When my coughing fit finishes, I fight him. I do remember one thing from my swimming lessons—if you struggle, there’s a chance you’ll drown not just yourself but your rescuer, too. For some reason, that thought makes me grin.
