Page 5 of The Mobster’s Prize

“Did anyone ever tell you not to talk back to the man who has the gun?”

Gun? I haven’t seen a gun yet, but now I know he has one. Maybe when my hands are free, I can steal it and make him drive me home.

“I must’ve missed that lesson in Being Kidnapped101.” I lift my chin, glaring right back at his narrowed eyes.

He reaches behind me and opens the door. “Get in.”

I turn and climb inside. Before I’m barely seated, he’s slamming the door on me.

Jerk.

He walks over to the old cowboy and speaks with him for a moment before heading toward the other truck. I sit and try to breathe. I’m not sure who these men are, but I overheard the old cowboy talking earlier. He told the others that no one is supposed to lay a finger on me. Anyone who did would be shot. Knowing that has helped to keep the panic attack at bay.

But it’s starting to come back.

“Damn, you’re stinking up my whole truck.” He climbs in, slamming his door, immediately rolling down his window.

“What do you expect? I was locked in a barn all day.”

I could barely breathe in there. The stench of manure made my stomach roil, but thankfully, my nose finally grew numb to it. Now all I smell is his cologne. He smells expensive. Expensive and sexy. I’m guessing by the thread count on that suit he’s wearing that he has money.

A lot of it.

“We’re going to need to hose you off before I take you into my place.”

He pulls out onto the gravel road, keeping his head angled toward the open window. I sniff my shirt and am almost embarrassed at how bad I smell. This guy is the best-looking man I’ve ever been in the presence of, and I wreak like horseshit.

I almost slap myself for being self-conscious.

It should be a good thing that he has to smell me. The man is my captor, not someone I’m trying to impress.

“Are you going to tell me who you are and what you want with me?”

It’s about time someone gave me answers.

“Name’s Dag. Your dad borrowed money from my boss and has refused to make good on the loan. So, until he pays up, you’re staying with me.”

I knew this had to do with my father. Luigi Santone wreaks havoc everywhere he goes.

But I don’t understand why he owes anyone money. The man is loaded. Every time I open up my social media feed, he’s bragging about his latest sports car or some fancy piece of art he’s acquired. He shouldn’t have a problem getting these men their money.

“How much does he owe?”

“Four million.”

My stomach drops.

“Four million? Why on earth would he borrow that much money?”

What could he possibly need that he doesn’t already have? He owns a gated estate in the hills. A resort getaway in the mountains. Has more cars than he’ll ever be able to drive. He has everything one could ever imagine, including the yacht. What more could he need?

“Your father wanted a loan to procure some product. Once he sold the product, he was supposed to pay back my boss, but it seems as though he decided to spend the money on other things.”

“Like the Valkyrie he brought home last month?” Some famous race car driver owned it, so my dad just had to have it.

His head snaps toward me.

“He bought a what? That car costs over three million bucks.” His jaw clamps down tight, icing me over with that frigid tone. “So, that’s what the fuck he’s doing with his money. I’m going to have to inform my boss of the fact. He’s not going to appreciate the complete disregard for our generosity.”