A Mafia Romance

Melissa

MELISSA

“Look, it seems you don’t like the guy, Melissa, but your dad is not giving you a choice in this. Sorry. I got to do what I’m told, same as you.”

That’s Benny—big and friendly, always practical. He’s the nicer of the two my dad sent after me. The other is Dave: quiet, cold, thoughtful. Scary.

“Enzo tried to r**e me, Benny. He wouldn’t even wait until we married! He’s got two other brothers! If Dad wants me with the Castellos, why not one of them?” I look between them, pleading my case as quietly as my panic will let me.

How did they find me? I was so damn careful! I took the bus, I used cash for everything, I dressed in things I would never wear, all this leather...I look like a biker’s w***e—and for what?

They found me not even two hours out of the city, and now they’re going to drag me home. Drugged. Whatever they shot me up with is already kicking in.

“It’s not my call, but I will mention this to your father. Still, you know how he is. Enzo Castello’s going to be your future husband. He’ll probably be a lot nicer once you’re married. He’s just enthusiastic because you’re hot.”

His calm, friendly tone never wavers. The other one’s staring at me, aware but uncaring, like a cat.

“Please don’t,” I beg one last time. But it’s too late. Benny has brought a laundry cart with an empty bag inside, and I can’t move.

I’m sobbing in terror as they put me in the bag.

When I open my eyes again, I think I’m dreaming. A stranger is propping me up on the edge of a car trunk in the cold air. We’re somewhere Upstate; it’s dark, with the smell of pine trees and snow on the wind.

The man’s not Italian. He’s hot: tall, dark-haired, and a little scruffy; he has light eyes. I can’t place the color of them in the dimness. He’s smiling with relief as I try to get my focus back.

“What’s your name?” he asks.

“Melissa,” I mumble, not giving my last name. Everybody knows it. “You?”

“You can call me Chase.” He looks me over, gaze lingering on my face. “Look, I don’t know who those guys were that kidn*pped you, but we need to get your stuff and ditch this car. Can you walk?”

I hesitate. My legs almost feel steady enough now that the cold is slapping me awake, but I have no idea who this guy is. “I think so. But we need to get all my stuff out of the car before we ditch it, or they’ll know where I’m running to.”

My stuff and something of Benny’s that he always keeps in the glove compartment.

“Grab the suitcase?” I ask. In case he has a g*n, I want to keep his hands busy.

“Sure, I’ll wrangle it for you. Do you have someone you can call?” His tone is so innocent that I have to choke back my bitter laugh.

“No,” I sigh as I get up, leaning heavily on the car, and make my way around to the passenger side. “Nobody close, anyway.”

Marcel and Amelie are waiting for me in Montreal. They offered me a place to stay when I made a run for the Canadian border. They have no idea that I picked Montreal because Dad is terrified of the crime family that controls the city; the less they know about my problems, the safer we’ll all be.

I have to make sure that my father never knows the names of the friends that are helping me. My phone is full of our conversations and Benny took it. He stashed it in the glove compartment.

“I have to get my phone. Then we can go. Do you have a way out of town?”

“I’m working on that. We can wait at the café until my ride back to Lloyd gets here.” I hear his soft grunt as he pulls my suitcase out of the back. He’s so friendly and cheerful...but not like Benny. He sounds baffled, like he’s still getting used to the idea that he found a woman in the trunk.

So either he’s a very good actor, or he’s genuinely shocked to have found me.

I pull the side door open and unlatch the glove compartment. My phone slides off a pile of old folded maps and spills into my hand. Then the holstered .38 revolver tucked behind it slides out, too.

I catch it. It’s heavy in my hand. It’s been a season since I fired one, but I’m not planning to do so now.

I just need answers.

He comes around with the suitcase in his hands and the start of a sentence on his lips, and then he just blinks at me holding the g*n. I don’t hold it on him directly, but I don’t hold it away from him either.

“I’m sorry, but I just got drugged and stuffed in a trunk by mobsters, and I’m not in a trusting mood. How do you fit into all of this?”

Chase is blinking at me in shock, like I totally destroyed my own image. This clearly isn’t a violent guy.

“Come on, don’t make me point this at you. I actually hate guns,” I sigh.

“Me, too. Uh, well, the simple answer is, I stole the car.” He smiles awkwardly as he keeps his hands in view—which makes him look even cuter.

“What?” I lower the g*n slightly, and he relaxes. This guy isn’t used to having guns held on him. “You stole...Benny’s car?”

“Yeah, okay?” He winces. “I stole the car, got out of Lloyd, and then realized you were in the back and set you free. Who the hell is Benny?”

I’m not ready to get into that atrocious story yet. I’m an inch from crying. “I’ll ask the questions. Do you have a secure place in Lloyd?”

“Uh...yeah, my house…” He looks at me worriedly. “What are you planning?”

“I need to shake these guys off. You just stole from them, so you need to shake them off, too.” I think about it a moment longer, then holster the g*n and tuck it into the back of my leather pants. “Is hiding out in Lloyd part of your plan?”

“Until things cool off, yeah.” He looks increasingly worried, despite my putting the g*n away. “Look, I don’t mean to pry into your business, but uh...what kind of trouble are you running from here?”

I look at Chase for a few moments, and then sigh. “Not here. Let’s...go someplace warm and wait for your ride.”

The café is a 1950s revival burger shop. I change into my wool coat before heading there, and cover my hair with his watch cap. My new friend suggested the change of clothes.

He’s done this car theft thing before. A lot.

He pulls out a cheap smartphone and starts texting as we walk down the windswept street toward the open café. “You never told me what I’m rescuing you from,” Chase reminds me. “Or why you want to hide out at my place.”

“Look, I’ll give you the short form now. My dad’s a monster; he wants me to marry another monster. Those two guys you ditched work for him.” My lips start trembling and I press them together. I really don’t want to cry around this guy.

“Monster—or mobster?” he asks quietly.

Tears spring to my eyes, and I take a sad, shivery breath. “Both,” I mumble.

“Okay, okay. You’re still drugged, you don’t know me, let’s get you collected, and warmed up.”

He touches my shoulder and I suppress another surge of tears.

“I didn’t expect anybody to step in, even by accident,” I admit. “I’m still stunned.”

“Uh, yeah, that’s logical. I’m still surprised to find you.” That awkward laugh. Boyish, but gentle.

I like him. And not just because he saved my a*s. Or because he’s actually really hot.

“What’s your plan for getting us out of here?” I ask urgently. “Dad’s men probably won’t expect you to double back to Lloyd.”

“Yeah, they never do.” He scratches his chin. “A wrecker is coming for the car and another coming for us. ETA half an hour.”

“A wrecker? Tell your guy to look for a LoJack.” I worry, and he nods texting for another moment.

“It’s all right, the guy’s a pro, and he’ll deal with it.” He tucks the phone back in his pocket. “You uh...really need to hide out somewhere?”

The look I give him is probably pretty desperate. “Just for the night. I can’t get to the other place right now.” g*n or no g*n, I’m working on trusting him.

If he’s a nonviolent thief, one thing will convince him: the cash I’m stashing. “I can pay you.”

“Uh...” His gaze flicks over me and that awkward smile returns. “Okay then…Melissa. A thousand bucks a night; you follow my instructions, and tell me the full story of what’s going on.”

He’d probably suggest something else, too, but he’s gentleman enough not to bring it.

That says good things about him by itself. How will he react to the whole story? Maybe he’ll even be outraged, like Marcel was when I told him what Enzo did?

That would be a nice change of pace. “Done. So what’s the plan?” Now that I’m away from my father’s goons, I have a few options for traveling anonymously to the border. But another idea is forming in my head.

How nice is this guy? How good a driver? And how interested is he in money?

“We sit tight for a while, things cool down, you move on.” He sighs. “And I retire for the season.”

“You mean from stealing cars?”

“That and some courier work—anything involving driving a lot. It’s not all that workable in the snow, so I take winters off.”

I’m thinking fast as we reach the café. “Can I interest you in one more delivery job before you shut down for the year?”

We go quiet until we’re seated and the chubby waitress has taken our coffee orders and sailed off. “What did you have in mind?” he asks.

I look up at him—and pause, taken aback by the color of his eyes now that we’re in good light. They’re golden brown with a faint copper overtones, quite jewel-like. “I need to make a delivery to Montreal within the next few days.” I can get a message to my friends and let them know I’m running late.

“What’s the package?” he asks as he examines the menu. I don’t even look at mine. I’m too queasy from the d**g hangover to eat.

I put on the bravest smile. “Me.”