Married to the Bad Boy(17)
But I don’t find it hard to look at him now. He can’t say anything that makes me feel worse than I already do.
“Mademoiselle, you need an appointment.”
The hostess appears at his side. “Excusez moi, Monsieur Cravotta. Elle a—”
“I saw the whole thing. Relax.” He gives her a flick of his hand, and the extremely harassed hostess returns back to the front, giving me a dirty look.
“Please, sir, it can’t wait.”
The men surrounding him laugh as they look at my face, and amusement flashes over it briefly before a faint note of recognition finally glimmers in his eyes.
“You’re Jack’s kid.”
“Yes!”
He gives the others a meaningful look. “Tabarnak de câlisse.”
I have no idea what it means, but judging from the look on his face, it sounds like a swearword.
“Sit down. Guys, take a walk.”
They rise to their feet obediently and the brutes holding my arms finally let go. I nearly crumple to his feet, but I manage to sit across from the table. He eyes me with a burning curiosity.
“What are you doing all the way here?”
I open my mouth, but stop immediately when the waiter fills the glass in front of me with water. He moves away like a ghost.
“Running.”
“I can see that.”
His eyes linger on the ghastly green bruise on the side of my face, the one I had before I met with Vincent. I’m sure that my eye is still purple, too. Good lord.
“I need your help.” My voice squeaks out, and I take a long draw of water to quell my nerves.
Johnny seems to pull away suddenly, his lips curling unpleasantly. “Look, I don’t know what you expected from me, but you’re mistaken if you think I’m going to help—”
“I have fifty grand in cash, and I need you to put a hit on a man.”
Suddenly his demeanor completely shifts. He leans forward, smiling, clasping his hands together. “If you have business to discuss, that’s a different story. His name?”
This is the part I’m worried about.
“Rafael Costa.”
Please don’t say no.
He takes a small notepad and pen from his jacket, writes down the name, and frowns at it. He recognizes it.
Please, please don’t say no.
My hands grip the edge of the table. “Please, Mr. Cravotta. I’m desperate.”
“He’s a made man. Part of Nicky’s crew in New York.” He taps the pen against the notepad restlessly as he looks at me. “He’s your boyfriend?”
The frown on his face deepens and I clench my teeth as he shakes his head. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, but the answer is no. You belong to him, and he’s a made guy. If you were related to someone in the family, we could arrange something, but…”
But my dad is a traitor.
“Seventy-five grand,” I whisper harshly. No, he can’t just do this to me. I’ll give it all, for fuck’s sake. Anything to save my life.
Pity. It’s all over his face. “I’m sorry, ma cherie, but I’m not going to start a war with New York because of some Yank.”
“I—I don’t understand! Why can’t you? I have the money!”
“I just told you that it’s not about the money. It’s politics.” He watches me seethe, his face blank. “Maybe you should call the police.”
Is he fucking crazy?
Besides the fact that they wouldn’t do anything, Raf would kill me the moment I waved the restraining order in his face. And if he didn’t, Vincent might.
“I knew your dad,” he says suddenly. “I liked him until he talked to the cops. He gave me a lot of problems.”
“I’m not my father!”
My voice rings out in the restaurant, momentarily cutting through the pleasant babble. Johnny’s face hardens.
“I still find the idea of helping you repugnant.” He nods to the men standing behind me, who grip my shoulders and lift me up.
“Please!” I scream to his rapidly disappearing face. “At least don’t tell him where I am!”
Johnny gives me an apologetic smile as they drag me from the table, shoving the small of my back until I’m practically thrown outside.
The cold engulfs me like fog, coming in at all sides, seeping into my skin and making my bones ache.
Is this it, then? I can’t go over Johnny’s head. He was my only shot. Game over.
No, I refuse to accept this. My dad didn’t raise a quitter, and I’ll be damned if I let some hopped-up jerk take my life because he can’t fucking handle that I don’t want to be with him anymore. I’ll buy a gun—I’ll buy an arsenal.
I’ll look over my shoulder for the rest of my life.