Jagger comes to my other side, dropping my duffle bag down on the sofa before unzipping it.
“What are you doing?” I snap, not wanting my personal possessions dragged out for them both to see.
He looks up at me from under dark lashes, a glint of trouble in his eyes, but he doesn’t answer me. Instead, he goes back to rummaging through my bag, pulling all my belongings out one by one, inspecting them, like a detective searching for clues. The grin vanishes from his face as he locates my passport and wallet. “Let’s see what we have here.” He flicks open the passport, scanning over the image of me. “Margherita Moretti. Hmm, that’s interesting.” He tosses the passport to Cruz and then continues to rummage through my wallet, pulling out receipts and plastic cards, searching them over.
“Why is that interesting?” I ask, but he ignores me, too busy with the task at hand.
“No weapons,” he comments to Cruz. It’s like he’s taking inventory of my belongings, and again, I wonder how many times he’s done something like this before to some other poor unfortunate soul.
Cruz is gaping back at me like he’s just seen me properly for the first time since he dragged me into that shadowy backstreet. “What kind of Moretti are you?” he clips, unimpressed, the cheeky unhinged grin wiped from his face.
I blink back at him, confused. “What?”
He tilts his head to the side. “Born a Moretti or married as one?” He looks at my hand, and I know he’s searching for a wedding band, but he won’t find one. I discarded my wedding ring the night I snuck out the window of my parents’ country estate.
“That is none of your business,” I snap back, crossing my arms over my chest indignantly. They already know more about me than I want them to, I’m not helping them.
Jagger picks up his phone, tapping his thigh impatiently as he waits for the other person to pick up. “Mal, do a background search for me. I need to know everything you have on one Margherita Moretti. I’ll stay on the line.” His eyes come to me, and for the first time, I really feel his scrutiny.
His dark, assessing gaze on me is too much to take, so I look away. I don’t even want to think about what this Mal is about to divulge about my life. Instead, I search the room for an escape. We’re currently smack bang in the center of the living room, with a massive flat-screen TV, a leather sofa, and a couple of recliners to either side. There is a gigantic picture window that looks out over the street below, but it’s one of those windows that doesn’t open. To my right is an adjoining kitchen, the fully equipped type with all matte-black accessories. Past that, it looks like a hallway. I can make out a few doors, but that is as far as I can see. I don’t like my chances of escape unless I can get past them to the front door.
Cruz’s smug smirk catches my attention; it’s a self-satisfied one, like he’s just won something, and I wonder what changed in the lastminute. Or is he getting off on the look of fear he sees on my face, knowing he has me trapped? Something tells me the answer is yes.
The sound of Jagger tapping his foot impatiently becomes too much to take as he waits for whoever Mal is to give him all the details he wants about me. I go to stand, but Cruz pushes me back down onto the sofa. “You’re not going anywhere, little darlin'.” He shakes his head.
“Yeah, got it,” Jagger says, and I look up to see him running a hand through his hair, looking slightly stressed for the first time since they dragged me back here with them. His eyes flash with something dangerous in a way that makes a fresh drip of sweat trickle down my back. What did Mal tell him about me? He disconnects the call and pockets his phone, his cold attention moving to his brother. “Missing for just under a week now, authorities are looking for her. Here, as well as in Italy, where she normally lives with her husband. Her brother is Dante Conti, and she goes by the name of Daisy to most who know her. Mal will email us the rest of the details he found.” He talks only to Cruz; I might as well be invisible, even though it’s my life he’s talking about.
“Oh really, Daisy, that’s cute,” Cruz says, one brow raised, like the idea that I’m a fugitive thrills him. Hopefully not, because he knows that if I’m already missing, it will be easier for him to keep me here.
“How long have you been in Ravens Hollow?” Jagger snaps a little more seriously.
“Didn’t Mal tell you everything you need to know about me?” I snip back, because screw them. Why should I tell them anything? They could just use it against me, and I’m sure they will.
Jagger rolls his lips and runs a hand through his day-old stubble, and I know I’m pissing him off. Well, good. They landed on myshit list the second they abducted me and brought me back to their apartment.
With a defiant tilt of my head, I make it unmistakably clear that I won’t tell him shit.
“I watched her get off the bus, I would say all of an hour, at most.” Cruz laughs like this is all some big game to him.
His words make me shiver like someone has just walked over my grave. He was watching me from the second I got off the bus. Why? Shouldn’t he have been doing whatever dodgy stuff he and his brother were up to with those guys in the alley?
“She’s Valentine Moretti’s wife,” Jagger huffs, sounding angry about it, but what’s it to him.
I can’t help but flinch. The mention of my husband’s name sends a tremor down my spine. They better not be buddies of his and about to send me back to him. I will die before I ever have to see that vile human again.
“Fuck!” Cruz growls, taking a step back from me, his fists balling at his sides. And I wonder what he knows about my husband that just put that look of anger on his face.
“Yeah, fuck!” His brother flicks him in the forehead. “Good work, fucker, now we have to deal with this.” He motions to me. Like I’mthis.
With the extra space Cruz has finally allowed me, I get to my feet, finding some inner strength; no idea where it comes from, maybe the fear of being sent back to my husband, maybe the fear of being stuck here with these thugs. Who cares where. “You don’t have to do anything, just let me go free and you will never hear from me again.”
“Oh, if only it was that simple, flower. If you really are Valentine’s wife, you know how this shit works. We can’t just let a witness go free, especially not one on the run from her powerful husband.”
I shift from foot to foot nervously. That’s just it, I might have been married into the mafia, but I never saw anything like I did tonight. It was all hidden from me. I was to be seen and not heard, and most of the time not even seen. He kept me locked away from the world, sheltered from the reality of his life, and I never complained, not once, because the reality would have been more than I could handle. I’m not tough like my big brother; I have always been squeamish with anything icky and averse to anything remotely violent. He would never have told me anyway. The one time I asked questions, it ended with me regretting it.
I lock eyes with Jagger, deciding he’s the more reasonable one. “I won’t tell anyone, I swear. Please, just let me go.”
His face is a cold, uncaring mask. “Get her stuff,” he growls to his brother, motioning to all my items on the sofa. I recoil when his large hand lands on my arm, trying to squirm out of his grip. His fingers dig into my flesh tighter than Cruz’s; I can’t escape him. He drags me through the apartment with him, past the kitchen, down the hallway.
