“What the fuck!” I snap.
She scrambles back on the mattress, body shaking. Coffee soaks through the white fabric clinging to her inflamed skin.
Dante chuckles under his breath as he tosses his half-finished cigarette onto the floor, crushing it beneath his heel. “Relax. It wasn’t that hot.”
Her eyes snap to his form. They are wild and full of fury. If she had a weapon, I was one hundred percent sure she’d use it on him. With an expression like that, I’ddefinitely bet on her killing him. Maybe even me for just being in the room.
I don’t move. The unease that sparked in me moments before had calmed when I registered how quickly she steadied herself. If the coffee had been hot enough to burn her, there would’ve been screaming and moaning without end. Her skin would’ve already started the process of blistering.
But there is none of that, thankfully.
She releases a few shaky breathes and then looks up at Dante. “You people have a strange definition of hospitality.”
Dante leans against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. He doesn’t speak for a short while and watches her silently.
I can’t tell what he’s thinking. And his silence starts to worry me that he might take it to the next level, but instead he raises a brow and asks, “You ready to talk?”
Her gaze narrows, lips pressing into a thin line. If she was afraid, she hid it well. “Funny,” she retorts. “You assume I have anything to hide.”
That earns her a laugh from Dante. “Did you all of a sudden go blind when I showed you that picture?”
I shoot him a look. “Enough. Let’s just keep asking her questions, eventually she’ll give something up, however minor the detail is.”
He ignores me, pushing off the wall and stepping closer to her again. She doesn’t retreat this time. Instead, she lifts her chin, like she’s challenging him.
Dante tilts his head, eyes scanning over her like she’s a piece on a board he intends to remove. “You’ve got a lot of nerve for someone tied up in a warehouse,” he admits. “Most people are begging by now.”
“From your point of view, I helped my father steal a bunch of money from a top level gangster in New York City. If that was something I did, wouldn’t I be harder to break?” she responds.
Dante’s jaw clenches. I can tell she’s pissing him off. Her sudden calm was denying him the break he wanted.
I shift my weight, my boots slightly scraping against the floor. I look over to her, breaking the uneasiness between them. “You’re not helping your situation here. Don’t you want to go home?”
She tosses a glare at me. “Is that really a possibility? Because you guys seem pretty damn certain that my father is going to be killed in all cases. I can only assume that I’d fall into that bracket as well.”
I maneuver my weight again, stepping a little bit closer. As I do, Dante takes a few steps back allowing me a moment to speak. “Listen,” I insist calmly, “You can keep acting like a smart ass, but it’s not going to change the fact that your father’s life is on the line. And yours, too. Sooner or later, you’re going to have to give us something.”
Her gaze doesn’t waver. If anything, there looks to be a spark of amusement there now. “And if I don’t?”
I don’t answer immediately. The pausemakes her fiddle around slightly. She’s nervous. That small movement betrayed her.
Dante walks over to the door, opening it wide. “You want to test us?” he dares. “Fine.”
She watches him as he saunters out of the room. I don’t know what he is up to, but it has a high probability of being bad.
Her eyes find mine and we study each other quietly.
I can feel her fear. She doesn’t know Dante like I do, but she’s starting to notice his unpredictable behavior. She at least knows that he’s planning something unpleasant.
Our eyes break away one another as the door behind me slams.
She quickly scrambles backwards on the mattress, breaths coming out fast. Her green eyes are locked on the chair that he drags in behind him. In the other hand, he holds a bucket full of water.
“No,” she exclaims, shaking her head hard enough that her hair sticks to her face. “No, you don’t need to do this. Please, I swear I don’t know anything.” Her voice breaks on the last word, panic showing in every breath as she pushes herself farther back.
Dante doesn’t rush things. He drags the chair forward inch by inch, letting the wooden legs of the chair scrape against the floor.
He then sits the bucket down beside it, the water sloshing over theside.
