I lift my chin and meet his icy stare. “I’ve always wanted to visit Cabo.”
“Well, too bad you won’t be, at least not anytime soon,” he says pleasantly, looking for all the world as if we’re simply having a pleasant chat. “For now, you’re going to walk your ass outside with me, and we’re going to play the part of a newly married couple in love while we wait for the private car service I hired to circle the airport and pick us up.”
The couple behind me shuffles forward, but Armani motions for them to go in front of me, refusing to let me budge from my spot.
Shaking my head, I murmur, “I’ll fight you. I’ll scream. There’s a million people here, and cops with guns. You can’t just drag me out the door.”
He shrugs. “I don’t have to.”
With that, he takes his phone from his pocket, taps on the screen, and pulls up a video. The volume is turned down, but I recognize my brother’s voice before the poorly lit footage appears on the screen. Armani must have been recording with his phone in his pocket.
I can make out my parents’ overgrown lawn, a flash of chain-link fence, and then my brother’s shoes with ashes from a cigarette falling around them. Sean’s voice is clear as he tries to impress Armani with his big talk, bragging about the jobs he’s done and the families he and my brothers have worked for. I knew Armani wasn’t bluffing when he told me had a recording, but I didn’t realize just how damning it was.
Leaning close enough to whisper in my ear, Armani says, “He’s given away the secrets of several families. Take one more step, and I’ll send all the info I have straight to the Napa PD. Or maybe just to the families your brothers have worked for. I wonder who’d hurt them worse?”
“Stop it,” I hiss.
Our eyes lock. A flash of sheer rage rises inside me, heating my entire body. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so helpless and so angry at the same time. It’s the cocky, self-assured way that Armani is looking at me. The way he keeps raising that upper hand he’s got, as if he’s going to bring it down and crush me. He thinks he can control me, control my every breath, every word, every thought. And with the blackmail that’s literally in the palm of his hand, he can. Fucker.
“You’re my wife, Candi. But you’re also a spy. You’re my enemy and you will be treated as such. Remember that.”
He unclips the rope from the stanchion and pulls me out of the line. I don’t resist, but from the corner of my eye I see a security guard watching us. He adjusts the walkie-talkie on his belt and starts moving in our direction.
Armani instantly straightens, his hand caressing my arm as a soft smile pulls the corners of his lips. The picture of a devoted husband.
“How you folks doing today?” the guard asks, eyes shifting between us.
Armani nods in greeting. “We’re doing great. Thanks for asking.”
The guard gives me the kind of searching look you give someone if you’re questioning their safety. A suspicious narrowing of the eyes, willing you to somehow communicate that you need help, even though the abuser is standing right next to you.
Except I’m not being abused. I’m getting what I deserve. I need to deal with it.
“Ma’am?” the guard presses. “Is everything okay? He bothering you?”
Armani doesn’t look at me, because he’s a professional. He knows that if his gaze slid my way, the guard might think he was trying to school me into giving a positive answer. But I know exactly what to do.
I smile and hold up my left hand, pointing to my new ring.
“I’m just sad we’re flying home today,” I say. “It’s our honeymoon—orwasour honeymoon, ha ha. And once we get on that plane, it’s back to reality.”
The security guard doesn’t look convinced, even as Armani takes my hand—the one with the wedding ring so clearly on display—and presses my knuckles to his lips.
“Congratulations on the wedding,” the guard says, looking appeased. “Hope it was a good trip.”
“Thank you so much,” I gush.
My smile drops as soon as the guard turns his back on us.
The ticket to Cabo crinkles in my right palm as I clench my fist around it. Maybe I can salvage the ticket, sneak out in the middle of the night and come back here, see if the airline can put me on a later flight…
Armani’s grip tightens on my elbow.
“Give me the ticket.”
Dammit. I hesitate for a moment before holding it out to him. He pulls it out of my fingers, dropping it in the nearest trash bin as he steers me toward the exit. There’s a stabbing feeling in my chest as I lose all hope.
I just handed over my last chance at freedom.
