Page 60 of Forever Lies
Soaked in my own blood and urine, drifting in agony and lost in a sea of fear, I was steadfast in my desire to live.
We were alone for the entire duration. I had no idea if Sal remained nearby, or if I’d been left entirely alone with Rico, which is why it startled me when the door clicked open. I couldn’t see who had entered, but I could see Rico when his chin lifted, and his spine went rigid. His response sent a new surge of panic racing through my veins.
“Frederico, tell me if I’m wrong, but I don’t believe theboss gave orders for retribution just yet.” The voice was confident, steeped in power and control.
Rico paled, but his rigid stance remained unyielding. “They took the life of my cousin—there must be blood taken in return.”
The newcomer strolled closer until I could see his penetrating eyes holding Rico captive. He was older than me, perhaps late thirties, and much more refined than my torturer. Aside from swirls of ink against his skin, he could have been a powerful politician or business mogul in his expensive suit with a neatly groomed beard. Each calculated step he took was a measured warning.
He never dropped his gaze to my flayed, bloody flesh as if this was something he’d seen before and was unbothered by the image. “An arrangement has been worked out—the girl was not part of the bargain.” Finally, the man’s eyes drifted down to me, and a whimper forced its way past the tape still glued to my lips. “You’re fortunate, however. She’s still alive, which means you’ll survive this ordeal, but there will be consequences.” His eyes flitted back up to Rico, who dropped his chin to his chest, finally conceding submission.
“Thank you, Matteo. I didn’t know there was an arrangement,” he muttered in broken English.
“That’s because you never asked. This will be your only warning—step out of line again, and it will be the last move you make.”
Rico nodded and scurried from the room like the sewer rat he was. My chest shuddered with the force of a restrained sob, overcome with emotion. It sounded like I was going to be freed, but perhaps I had only heard what I’d wanted to hear. When Matteo peered back down at me, the spacebetween his brows lightly creased, and his lips thinned as he studied me.
He took out his phone, hitting a number on autodial. “Get Jacobs here immediately and bring a woman’s robe, something soft.” He hung up as soon as the words were out and slipped his phone back in his pocket. “We’re going to get you cleaned up before I return you to your father.”
He took hold of the corner of the tape over my mouth and pulled it free in a single yank. The sudden pain and immense relief I would be going home brought on a deluge of uncontrollable sobs. One-by-one, Matteo freed my arms and legs from their restraints, but when I tried to sit up, he pressed my shoulder back down.
“I’ve got a doctor coming. I know you want to get out of here and aren’t crazy about being naked, but you have to wait a little longer.” His words were clinical, emotionless—he may have been freeing me, but it was not out of the kindness of his heart.
This was business.
I wasn’t going to argue. Matteo appeared to be running the show and claimed he was going to take me home—if that meant walking there naked, I’d do it.
He took out his phone again, and this time, I recognized the curt greeting on the other end, and the sound brought on a new wave of silent tears.
“I’ve got her. She’s a little worse for wear but otherwise okay. I’ll get her to you as soon as the doctor has looked her over.” Matteo glanced down at me. “Yeah, here she is.” He held the phone out, and I took it in my shaking hands.
“Daddy?” I rasped.
“Lessi, thank God. Are you okay?” The relief in his voice and the use of my old nickname did me in. My aching chestswelled with warmth as tear after tear cascaded down my blotchy cheeks.
“I’m okay. I want to go home,” I whispered shakily.
“I know, sweetie. You’ll be home soon—now give the phone back to Matteo.” I did as he instructed, a sense of calm settling over me after hearing my father’s voice.
The doctor showed up not long after and tended to my wounds. Some were shallow enough to have stopped bleeding on their own, others required sutures and butterfly bandages. The process took at least an hour. As each cut was doctored, he gently wiped the excess blood from my skin and moved to the next. Only when every square inch of me had been treated did he help me into the ivory robe that had arrived with him.
Another thirty minutes later, Matteo was pulling up to my parent’s house. My father met us at the car while my mother watched from an inside window, most likely instructed by my father to stay safely inside. Each movement I made was painful, but it was infinitely more bearable knowing I was going home. My father opened my door and gingerly helped me out of the car. Matteo came around to the passenger side, and the two men eyed each other like big cats caged next to one another at the zoo.
“Thank you, Matteo. Your cooperation will not be forgotten,” offered my father.
Matteo’s lips curved up just a fraction. “You owe me a marker—and for the record, we still want Sal.”
My father clenched his teeth, his lips thinning. “You and me both. I sent men to his house to collect him, and he managed to slip through our fingers. He’s on the run now—it won’t be easy to find him.”
“Sal escaped?” I blurted, a trickle of fear dancing down my spine.
Both men stared at me in surprise.
Sensing their unasked questions, I explained. “Sal was waiting for me at my apartment. I didn’t know I shouldn’t trust him, so I let him in. He started acting weird, talking about the past, then he jumped me and held a cloth with some chemical to my face, making me pass out. He was the one who turned me over to Rico—said he wanted to start a war.”
Matteo dropped his chin in a nod. “We’ll all be on the hunt for him. In the meantime, I’ll be in touch.”
My father held out his hand, and the two shook hands uneasily. When the moment was over, Matteo sped off in his flashy car, and dad ushered me inside.
