Taken by the Italian Mafia(13)

Full, dark lips turned downward as Whitney looked up at him. Those  soulful black eyes he'd tried to avoid before read into his very soul.

"You can't trust anyone but yourself, right?" A callback to their  conversation in the car. "I'm... I'm okay. Just a little frazzled."

The belt had dug into her neck, leaving a deep imprint. As far as Rocco  could see, it wasn't bleeding. Arturo was forced to stop before he could  do much damage.

"Yeah. I bet." With Arturo just outside, Rocco knew he couldn't leave  Whitney cuffed to the railing. If he was going to keep her alive until  the storm passed, he was going to have to take better care of her. "I'll  be right back. If he comes in again and I'm not here, scream like you  did that last time and I'll come for you."

A bob of her head was his only reply. Rocco took to the stairs and  returned to the master bathroom to retrieve the key to the handcuffs.

Rocco returned to the stairwell and Whitney's side. The key fit in the  pinhole, freeing Whitney's hands. Scratches covered her wrists where the  metal dug and pulled as she fought against Arturo. For a short moment,  Rocco felt guilty. Then he felt frustrated. There was no guilt to be had  here - she was a witness, and right now she was his hostage. Little  cuts and bruises were to be expected.

"Thanks," Whitney murmured, moving her arms across her chest to cover her exposed breasts. "Does this mean that I can go?"

"You wish," Rocco replied with a snort, then kicked himself. Laughter was not part of being a Don. "Come with me."

When Rocco began to climb the stairs once more, Whitney rose and  followed. The handcuffs, open, still dangled from his hand, the key  tucked safely against his palm. Maybe they'd be better used on Arturo to  keep him in check; Rocco had no idea how he would control his brother  otherwise.

"I'm gonna get you something to wear, since Arturo destroyed your uh,  shirt," he said. An old wooden dresser was stocked with men's casual  wear, but a plain t-shirt, although too big, would do the trick.

"What about you?" Whitney asked in a small voice, as though timid around  the topic. Rocco looked at her over her shoulder and furrowed his brow  before he realized what she was talking about. All this time he'd been  naked. The fight with Arturo had taken his mind from his state of  undress.

"Yeah. I'm gonna get dressed, too."

Whitney already saw everything he had to offer, but Rocco still found  himself wanting to cover up. He tossed her the shirt, then wrenched open  the top drawer and pulled out a pair of shorts.

"Do you think-"

A musical tune broke the question before it began. Both captive and  captor looked towards the bathroom, and Whitney bit down on her bottom  lip. The dull buzzing from the other room gave the noise away - it was  her cellphone going off. The one he had confiscated earlier that night.

"Shit," Rocco mumbled. They'd ignored the text message from before, and  now someone was reaching out again. Whitney left her shift, and if she  was the kind of girl he thought she was, that behavior was likely  unusual. If he didn't act soon, she was going to become a missing  person's case. With a body so close to The Avenue, shit was going to get  real.

"Listen," he spoke fast, and he spoke cold. Whitney's eyes were on him,  and he could tell she was paying close attention. "I'm gonna keep you  safe from my brother, unless you try something stupid, in which case  I'll let him at you. But in exchange for my protection, I need a little  something from you. Until we get this mess all figured out and I can  figure out a way to let you off the hook with your life, you've gotta be  a good girl for me. Whoever's callin' right now, I need you to come up  with a story about where you are, and that you're fine. If it's work,  you tell 'em that you went home sick. If it's your friends, you tell 'em  you met someone and you're gonna spend the night out. Got it?"         

     



 

"Yeah, I got it," Whitney said with a nod of her head. It was a big  risk, letting her speak to someone on the phone, but it was a risk Rocco  was willing to take.

"Remember that I've got a brother who won't hesitate to fuck you up, and  if you really go behind my back, I will shoot you. Best you play nice  and get set free for good behavior, right?"

Dangling freedom before her was bound to get her to behave. At this  point in the night, she had to be desperate enough to believe it. It  wasn't often that someone survived this long in one of the Lombardo's  hostage situations; tonight lady luck was on Whitney's side. How much  longer that luck played out was the question. All Rocco knew was that no  matter what he said, he wouldn't let Arturo near her with a ten-foot  pole. Let luck play its part, fate didn't need to be tempted.

Rocco left the bedroom to grab her phone. While there, he grabbed his  holster and the gun within. Often the sight of a gun was enough to  discourage any rebellious behavior.

By the time Rocco arrived in the bedroom, the caller had hung up.

"Unlock the phone and I'll watch you as you redial, just to make sure  you're not trying to pull a fast one on me by calling the cops. Nice and  casual, nice and simple, like we talked about."

Whitney's face soured as he reviewed his instructions, and she took the  phone from him with more confidence than he guessed she had in her.

"I know that you're nervous that I'm going to rat on you and do  something stupid, but I'm not a kid. You don't need to keep repeating  the same thing to me over and over; I got it. I'm good. Yeah, I'm  scared, but that doesn't mean that I'm an idiot."

The bite to her words impressed him. Usually women were stricken with  terror at the sight of a gun. Whitney wasn't just any other woman -  there was something special about her. Something grounded, something  Rocco admired.

As soon as the thought came, he pushed it aside. No matter who she was,  how she looked, or what she did, she was still his hostage. No matter  how brilliant she was, her life was destined to end. What was his issue?  His dad hadn't raised a sissy.

Whitney unlocked the phone, then opened up her call history and brought  up the first number on the list. According to her caller ID, she'd  missed a call from Cassandra. Rocco drew his gun and pointed with it to  the name before Whitney placed the call.

"That your room mate?" he asked.

"My work mate," Whitney replied. "She was the one on shift with me at  The Avenue, along with a newer girl. She knows it's not like me to ditch  work."

"All you tell her is that you got really sick and you needed to head home," Rocco insisted. "Make sure that Liam knows it, too."

"You know Liam?"

Shit. Rocco bit down on his tongue and wiped the expression from his  face. Revealing information like this was a blunder - a big blunder.  Whitney was making him sloppy. If she knew that her boss was tied into  mob affairs, and word somehow got out, it would be a disaster.

"Scoped the place out online before the hit. When you're going into a  place cold, having the owner's name on hand can be an asset."

It was a damn good thing he could talk his way through just about anything.

"You didn't do a good job if you wanted to fit in - but it's not like  that's a bad thing. You were way hotter than any of the normal guys who  party it up on a Friday night. If you'd stuck around to dance rather  than... doing what you did, I think you would have been the most popular  guy in there."

Hot? Rocco was stunned into momentary silence. "Call the number." No  more falling for her charms, no more letting himself be vulnerable. It  was back to business.

Whitney did as she was told. As the call connected, she cradled the  phone against her ear and locked eyes with him. In those black pools  there was fear, but there was also resilience. She'd come a long way  from the trembling, weeping creature she'd been in the back alley behind  The Avenue.

"Cassandra?" Whitney asked. To Rocco's surprise, she sounded calm and  composed. "Yeah, I went home. I started to feel so sick - you know why. I  just couldn't keep up anymore, and after I went out back and had a  sort-of run in with Liam, I couldn't stay on the floor. I'm sorry."

Silence as Cassandra responded. Rocco focused on everything Whitney  said, careful to listen for any code words or secret cries for help. So  far, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Although he did wonder what was  happening in Whitney's professional life. Was Liam giving her a hard  time?

"Yeah. Yeah, can you uh, can you tell Liam? I can't bring myself to talk  with him. Not now. I need to get my shit together first."

Another stretch of silence. Rocco kept his eyes on the gun in his hand,  twisting it back and forth beneath the overhead light and watching it  glint.         

     



 

"Thanks. I owe you. Bye for now."

Whitney hung up and extended the phone towards Rocco to return it, but he shook his head.