Page 15

A profile picture of Detective James Calloway stares at me from Alexander’s phone.

“Do you know this man?” While still holding the phone so I can see the screen, he swipes his middle finger across the screen. “And before you lie to me again, I want you to think real hard.”

The second photograph is of the detective stepping out of my apartment building.

“Uh.” Thoughts, explanations for why that man would be in my building fly through my mind.

Just because he was in my building doesn’t mean he was there to see me. He could have been at anyone’s apartment.

“That’s it?” He puts the phone away and folds his arms over his chest.

“What do you want me to say, Alexander?”

“The truth.” He takes a predatory step in my direction. “Let’s try that for once, Megan. I’m tired of your lies. You tell me one more and you’ll spend the night in the pit.”

My throat closes around that threat. I have no doubt he means the room with the meat hook and he’ll put me there and leave me.

“If you would just leave me alone, you wouldn’t need to know anything.” Every step I take backward, he matches until I hit the couch and fall onto the thick cushions.

Taking the opportunity, he leans over me, completely caging me in.

“I’m not going to leave you alone, Megan. Now tell me the truth. Why would a detective be at your apartment? And who sent you to get the drive on Dexter Thompson?”

We’re back to that now?

I stare up at him, at the fierceness in his eyes, the tight lock of his jaw. How did I think I could lie to him and get away with it?

“You didn’t find out when you went digging into my life?” I question him back. If he’s so powerful, how does he not already know?

“You’re going to tell me. I would like to know that you are at least capable of the truth.”

“I only lied to protect Mira,” I argue. Obviously, I’m not skilled in it.

“Tell me,” he orders as he reaches down and begins to unbutton my shirt. I grab at the ends, but he slaps my hand. “Talk.”

“What are you doing?”

“Preparing you.” He keeps unbuttoning the shirt until it’s all the way open.

“For what?”

“You’re not talking yet. Would you rather have this conversation in the pit?”

I hate the way he says that, like it’s a fun place for him to be. Maybe for him it is. He’s not the one who would be hanging from the metal hook like a side of beef.

“Please. Just let me deal with this on my own.”

His fingers trail along my collarbone.

“Why? What sort of trouble have you gotten yourself into? Tell me.” It’s the way his voice softens at the end that breaks my resolve. “I can’t fix it for you if I don’t know what it is.”

Tears threaten but I blink them back while turning away from him. The last six months have been nothing but stress and pressure, and here is man who could probably fix the whole thing if I just tell him.

But if I let him in, he could make things worse. It’s a gamble, trusting him. It’s a bigger gamble trusting myself around him. With his touch alone, he can set my soul ablaze. No matter the danger rolling off him, something inside my core says to tell him. To give over and trust him. But what if I’m wrong?

“Megan.” He cups my chin gently, drawing me back to him. “What is it?”

His brow is pulled together and there’s more than frustration now; there’s legitimate concern. I could be wrong, but what if I’m not?

I draw in a shaky breath.

“He wasn’t there to talk to me. He was there looking for Mira.” The words scratch my throat as they leave me. I’ve been holding back the truth of the nightmare for so long, it hurts to give it life.

“What about her? She moved away months ago.” Of course he would think that, but I doubt any sort of financial records he dug up would tell him why.

“She did. She had to.” I swallow. “Nico, that was her boyfriend at the time. He was doing stupid stuff. He started dealing for the DeAngelo family, but he messed up.”

Alexander’s hand drops from my chin. “He was a dealer?”

“Yes. But something happened. I’m not sure if he lost the drugs or they were stolen, but whatever it was, he ended up being short on the money he owed Marco. By a lot.”

“How much?”

I shake my head a little. “I don’t know for sure. But Nico couldn’t pay him and Marco—” I pause. “Marco blamed him and Mira for it. He killed Nico—right in front of her. He only let her go because she promised to get the money for him.”

“She was dealing too?”

“No! She would never do that. But Marco didn’t care about that. He just wanted his money.”

“How does Calloway play into this?”

“Nico’s body was found a few weeks later and the police started investigating. They tried talking to Mira, but she didn’t tell them anything.” I harden my voice as best I can. “And when she continued telling them nothing, that detective picked her up and brought her into the police department. Marco got wind of it. He didn’t believe her when she told him she hadn’t said a word.”

“The detective brought her in knowing Marco would get the information.”

“That’s what I thought, yeah. So, after some discussion, Mira and I decided she should leave town. Marco didn’t just want the money, he wanted her. She needed to get away before that happened.”

“And now Marco is coming after you?” His voice hardens like he’s angry at Mira.

“Yes. When the cops didn’t go after Marco, we thought he let it go. But the detective kept coming around, kept wanting to talk to Mira. It was too dangerous for her to stay.”

“If she lies as horribly as you do, he probably figured she was hiding the truth,” he butts in.

“Of course I’m horrible at it; this is my first time having to deal with the mafia. I wasn’t raised to lie and steal and kill!”

“Tell me more about Mira.” He skips over the accusation of him being a murderer, probably because he’s murdered people and can’t defend the accusation.

“She wanted to stay, but I insisted she leave town so the detective couldn’t get to her and Marco might drop it. She had no idea Marco would come after me.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a slow breath.

“Have you talked with her since she left? Where is she now?”

“I don’t know where she is. At first, she’d gone to stay with a friend from high school. But after Marco showed up at our apartment the first time, we figured it was better if I didn’t know where she was.”

His jaw keeps tightening as I talk, but he remains silent, letting me get through it.

“She left her friend’s place and didn’t tell either of us where she was going. She’s been sending money. Every month she sends two thousand dollars so I can pay Marco for her. As long as he gets his money, he won’t chase her. But if he doesn’t…” Both of us are on the hook.

“But she stopped sending the money. That’s why you missed the payment last month?”

“Yeah. She’s supposed to check in every other week, but six weeks ago, she stopped. The next payment she sent was only half the usual amount, and then the money stopped altogether. I have no idea where she is or if she’s okay.”

“And you’re sure Marco hasn’t gone looking for her?”

“I’m not sure of anything.” I sink back into the couch, wishing it would just suck me in and transfer me to some other dimension where none of this was happening.

Six months of worry and stress bubble in my chest. The tears I’ve been fighting back for months finally win and slip down my cheeks.

Alexander wipes them away with his thumbs.

“How does the flash drive play into all of this?” he questions softly.

“Marco asked me to get the drive. He said if I was able to get the drive, then Mira’s debt would be paid.” I take a shaky breath. “Then she could come home and things would be normal again.”

He sighs, probably because of how naive I’ve been. Nothing will be normal again.

Nico is dead.

Mira’s been in hiding for months.

And I’ve been kidnapped by the Volkov family.

“You should have told me this at the start.” He leans in as he wipes the rest of the tears from my cheeks.

“The first time I met you, you bent me over a desk and spanked me! Then you showed up in my apartment in the middle of the night.”

“If you had told me, I could have helped.”

I grab his wrist and stare up at his eyes.

“Helped? You threw me in your trunk. You hunted me through the woods. Literally hunted, with a gun! Why would any of that make me think you would help and not make it worse?”

He shifts his gaze to where my hand has his wrist captured. It’s not like he can’t just take his arm back, but that’s not how Alexander works. He can take, but he’d rather I give.

“You may not be the Italian mob, but you’re still mafia,” I whisper, releasing his wrist.

He stands up to his full height and stares down at me for a beat before he turns to go to his desk. It’s only a moment, but even a moment pinned by his focused gaze slows time.

When he comes back, my cell phone is cradled in his palm.

“Check for her message.” He hands it to me.

I’m not looking a gift mobster in the mouth, so I grab it and immediately scroll the notifications.

There are a few texts from the girls at work,, wondering what happened and why I quit.

I didn’t quit, but I’ll deal with that later.

There is nothing from Mira, so I open my email app. Other than junk emails, there’s nothing.

The heaviness returns to my chest.

“Nothing. She’s supposed to send proof of life every other week.” I pull up the messaging app and open her last message. “She doesn’t use her phone, so the number is always different. But I know it’s her because she uses the little black heart emoji.”

He takes the phone back from me and looks over her last text.

“And this last message was like the others?”

“Yeah. Well, for the most part. I usually send her back a message letting her know things on my end are okay, and she responds, but she didn’t respond last time.”

He starts scrolling through my messages, probably finding all the ones with that emoji.

“This last one was different. Shorter than the others.”

“I just figured she was busy or something. But now… maybe Marco got a hold of her.”

“When you only made half the payment last month, what did he say? Did he mention her?”

“Yes. He said if I didn’t have that half plus this month’s, then he’d have to start turning over rocks to find her. Or something like that, he’s not very articulate.” He gets his message across just fine, though. I’ve never not understood our lives were at stake.

“Do you have a picture of her on your phone?” He taps the screen and starts scrolling through the camera roll. He turns the phone to me after he finds something. “This her?”

It’s a picture of Mira and me at a retirement party for one of the guys at work.

“Yeah. Her hair’s probably longer now, if she didn’t cut it. That picture was taken last April. Just before it all happened.”

“And that’s Nico?” He points to Mira’s boyfriend sitting in the background of the photo.

“That’s him.” I nod. I reach for my phone when he starts swiping and tapping away. “What are you doing?”

“I’m sending the pictures to my phone.”

“Why?”

“Because.” He takes the phone back to his desk and puts it away in the top drawer. I suppose it doesn’t matter if I know where it is; it’s not like I can get into this room without his key.

“Now.” He comes back to the couch, leaning over and grabbing my chin. His eyes have darkened. The glimpse of a man who might actually sympathize with my situation is long gone.

Alexander the mobster is back.

“The drive. What did Marco say about the drive? Tell me everything, Megan. No more hiding things or lying.”

“Marco gave me that paper I showed you and told me to call the number on it. When I did, the person who answered told me how to get into your office at the club and where the box you kept all your blackmail stuff would probably be.”

His grip tightens.

“Who was he?”

“I don’t know.” I wince when his fingers dig into my chin. “Really, Alexander. I swear, I don’t know. He never said who he was, only what to look for and where. He said he’d contact me for the drop-off later.”

He stares at me for a moment.

“I’m telling you the truth, Alexander. Marco wanted the drive.”

His nose brushes against mine as he makes a low guttural sound.

“If you ever lie to me again, Megan, even a tiny fib, I will punish you so severely, you’ll wish I’d hung you up on the hook.” He sinks his hand into my hair, pulling my head back. “Tell me you understand. Swear you’re done lying.”

“I understand,” I say quickly. “I promise. No more lies.”

“Good.” He releases me and walks back to his desk, leaving me sitting on the couch with my blouse open to the cool air of the room.

He walks around his desk, slides off his suit jacket, and tosses it over the back of his chair before sinking into it. The silence grows. I start to button my blouse.

“Come here.” He points to the front of his desk. “Stand in front of me.”

There’s a shift in his tone; he’s not interrogating anymore. No, this man I’ve seen already.

“Take off your clothes.” He gestures to me once I’m standing where he wants me. “I want to see what my protection and my money have gotten me.”