He blocks the door, making no attempt to free me, and my heart sinks. Realization dawns. He’s the enemy—him and his sons.
“W-why are you doing this to me?” My teeth chatter. “You’ve known me since I was born.”
He bobs his head, edging closer. “Don’t take it personally. You’re a woman—just another casualty in the game of men. Your father never should have been don. Instead of biding my time, I should have killed him. I may have even taken your mother as my wife and been a father to you girls.”
Disgust ripples through me, but I remain quiet.
“I was a widower even then, you know? My darling wife died because of those filthy Irish bastards. Just think, my sons could have been your older step-brothers. One big happy family.”
Filthy Irish bastard. Something about the way he says that sparks an allusive memory. It’s there, just out of reach.
I frown up at him, wrapping my arms around my middle. “The Irish murdered your wife?” I’d never heard about that before.
“No.Imurdered my wife.” He sneers. “She took one of the heathens as a lover. I made sure she paid for it.”
“Why have you taken me?”
He casually leans against a tower of boxes, as if we’re having a friendly conversation on the street, instead of inside a freezer with a dead body at my back.
“It took me a while to find Maximo’s weakness. Turns out it was you all along. Since I need to get him alone, vulnerable and desperate, I knew I had to take you. You’re my leverage, my bait. He’ll come for you. He’ll do everything I tell him to do without question.”
Oh god, what do I do? Lazaro can’t think he can use me against Maximo. I have to convince him otherwise.
Then what? He’ll kill you if you’re of no use to him.
I shove that thought aside, because if Maximo falls for this trap, he won’t make it out alive, and it will be my fault. This is how I make it up to him, correct my past mistakes and betrayal. I have to protect him.
“T-that’s not true.” My teeth chatter so hard I can barely get the words out. “He w-won’t come for me.”
He cocks his head. “Why not?”
“B-because he found out that I betrayed him. I’ve been passing information about him to Mrs. Rizzo for months. If you don’t believe me, call her.”
Lazaro narrows his eyes, scrutinizing me for a couple of seconds. “You’re telling me you’re a little rat, huh?”
Shakily, I nod.
“We’ll see about that.” He palms his phone, presses the screen and a ringtone comes through. It’s on speaker.
“Mr. Achilli, how may I help you?” Mrs. Rizzo answers.
I pray to God that she reads between the lines of this conversation. I don’t dare scream for help because then Lazaro would know this is a trick and go right back to his original plan of using me to get to Maximo.
“I just came across an interesting piece of information. A little rat told me she’s been spying on don Pontrelli, and passing that information to you.”
A heavy silence hangs in the air. For a moment, I’m afraid Mrs. Rizzo is going to blow this. Then she lets out a low hum.
“She told you this, did she? In person?”
“Oh yeah. Face to face. This little rat doesn’t seem to be lying.”
“She’s not. That’s the truth. She’s been a most excellent source of information.”
“I see. Seems like we have a common goal, Mrs. Rizzo, we can have a sit down, talk about it. We might be able to help each other, you know?”
“Mm, sounds like an excellent idea.”
“I’ll be in touch.” He ends the call, turning his full attention on me. “If your husband knows about this, then how are you still alive? I’d strangle any woman who betrayed me like that.” Is that how he killed his wife?
