She grunted at him, her fear giving way to anger. What did he expect her to do with duct tape over her mouth? Sing him an aria?
“Oh yeah.” He reached down and ripped the duct tape off.
She said a very unladylike word, followed by, “Ow.”
“Yeah, sorry about that, but you know.” He shrugged.
“No, I don’t know.” He looked like a guy who’d be named something like Fat Eddie or Tommy Two Fingers. Except he had all his fingers. Fat Eddie it was. She glared at him. “Why did you kidnap me?”
“Kidnap? Whoa, that’s a loaded word there, girly. We’s just wanted to talk to you. That’s all.”
“We who? You and that other goon that dragged me off the street?” She glared at him. “People are already looking for me. Dangerous people.”
He laughed. “Sweetheart, I’m about as dangerous as they get. I don’t think your little friends are gonna be much of a threat.”
“You’re dangerous, are you? And why’s that?”
His jovial nature went icy in a split second. “Because my boss and your boss are the same man, but I do a very different kinda job for him, if you get my drift.”
She got it all right. “You mean you kill people.”
He jerked back like he was shocked by her plain language. “You got a mouth on you, you know that?”
“Am I wrong?”
He slapped the duct tape back over her mouth, but she grimaced, giving herself some wiggle room behind the tape. He stomped back upstairs.
More muted tones. Some not as muted. Then more footsteps.
She poked at the tape with her tongue and managed to separate it from her skin enough so she could breathe better. How was she going to get out of here alive?
She tried to think, but her head was still thick with the drug they’d given her. She also wasn’t exactly boned up on the latest survival training. Did Hugh have an idea about what had happened to her? He’d probably think she’d just stormed off.
If he’d even noticed she was gone. He must have, right? She had no idea what time it was, no idea how long she’d been here and no real hope for getting out.
She was going to have to figure this out herself. A ping of sadness echoed through her, followed by a sharp stab of fear. They were probably going to kill her. Like, any second. That sent a burst of angry motivation through her. She wasn’t going down without a fight.
Footsteps on the stairs again. She craned her neck, ignoring the bruise from where she’d been jabbed. Fat Eddie again.
He walked up to her, tore the duct tape off again, then plopped down on the couch. “My compatriots and I need to know what you know. If you know what I mean.”
“Speak English, not Brooklynese.” She bit her tongue to keep from calling him a name that would only make him want to kill her sooner.
He leaned forward, causing the zipper on the jacket of his track suit to panic. The gleam in his eyes made her think of a great white checking out a baby seal. “What did you see that night at the restaurant?”
“Which night?”
He frowned. “The last night youse was there.”
“I saw a bartender pouring weak drinks. I saw a woman stuff one of the oregano shakers in her purse. I even saw a kid grind half a fried cheese stick into the carpeting. It’s a crazy world, the restaurant biz.”
He stood, hiking up his track pants. “You think you’re funny?”
“Sometimes, yes.” She was being a smartass, and she didn’t care. If she was going to die, she was going on her terms. Not that she wanted to go at all.
He walked over to her, glowering. “It doesn’t matter. The boss says the word and you’re done. You get what I’m saying?”
So they were going to kill her regardless. “Melting chocolate led to the invention of the microwave.”
He screwed up his face. “What?”
“Nothing.” Breathe. She had to come up with a reason for them not to kill her. A way to buy some time. Think think think. “If anything happens to me—”
“What?” he sneered. “Your boyfriend is gonna come looking for you?”
Maybe. Probably not. “I have an email scheduled to send if I don’t log into my laptop every twenty-four hours.”
“So?”
“That email is set to go to the police, the FBI, Facebook and a whole bunch of media.”
“And I should care about this why?”
“Because attached to that email is the video I took that night in the restaurant along with a message that says if the email’s been received, I’ve been murdered by Anthony Rastinelli.” Sure, Sheriff Merrow already had that video, but Fat Eddie didn’t need to know that.