Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
“They took your wallet, Jo,” she’d said when I tried to tell her it was fine. Mostly because I was terrified some mafia dude might be around, and I didn’t want her to get wrapped up in my mess. “They would know exactly where you live. You need to change your locks, okay?”
After assuring her I would, and that I was okay, she left me there that Sunday. Where I stress-cleaned and worried myself so sick that I spent a couple hours on my bathroom floor, sure I was going to throw up.
Eventually, I took some melatonin and forced myself to sleep. Only to wake up a few fitful hours later, just as stressed, and in no way ready to confront Matteo.
But there was no other choice.
The detectives had been pretty clear.
I needed to gain the power in the situation.
So when I saw him come in for the day, looking almost as exhausted as I did, and sporting a nice black eye from how hard I’d struck him two nights before, I figured it was right then or never.
And I thought I did a pretty decent job masking how I felt underneath.
A part of me really just couldn’t believe my eyes when Matteo passed that cash over toward me like it was no big deal.
Again, yes, the detectives claimed that it would be nothing to a member of the mafia to pay out that kind of cash as hush money, but I guess a part of me had just been completely disbelieving.
But then there it was.
Then there I was, shoving it into my pockets when there was a knock at the door. A knock that preceded the entrance of Matteo’s brother. Who, if the mafia hierarchy worked the same way other hierarchies did, then that meant he was a higher-up member of the mob.
Which was more than a little terrifying.
So I’d rushed out of the office to stash the money in one of the little storage pockets behind my front seats, and then I’d gone ahead and had my panic attack right there in the parking lot.
I’d been on bated breath for the rest of the day, sure someone was going to come out of somewhere, grab me, tell me I was a fool for thinking I could blackmail a member of the mafia, and haul me off to some undisclosed location where they would murder me, fit me for cement shoes, and toss me into the ocean.
Dramatic of me? Possibly. But I didn’t think it was smart at that point to underestimate the mafia, either. I mean, I had witnessed an actual mafia hit. They did that kind of thing.
Once I got home, I stashed the cash in the only place that seemed even remotely safe—the bottom of my hamper that never seemed to go completely empty, no matter how much laundry I tried to get done.
And then, well, I kind of had to go back to my normal life.
Because there was no other choice.
Though I did go ahead and add a couple deadbolts to my door. And those little alarm things to my windows. Just for the peace of mind.
Then Monday turned into Tuesday, and Tuesday to Wednesday. And so on and so forth. And nothing happened. In fact, I only caught sight of Matteo once after that. He wasn’t an ever-present part of the business anyway, but I guess a paranoid part of me was sure he was going to be around to keep an eye on me.
But, it seemed, he was just going to go along with the agreement.
So on Friday night after my shift, I stopped at the local coffee place to get coffee and pastries for the whole precinct. As I was leaving, I caught Detective Hart’s gaze, giving him a small smile that he inclined his chin at.
Monday morning, though, I was in knots again, so much so that I caught Cara, the office manager, shooting me long, curious glances, making it clear I’d been screwing up or repeating myself too much thanks to my nerves.
“Everything okay, Josie?” she asked, voice sweet. “You seem a little out of sorts today.”
“I, ah, sorry. Sorry, Cara. I think this client just… I’m a little frazzled,” I said, catching myself before I complained about the client. Even though everyone had choice words to say about the woman, especially after she called to scream at the catering crew over some menu change she wanted without changing the fee.
“Girl, I am counting down the days to that wedding. It will be so nice to move on from it. I know we keep pushing it off on you because, up until now, you’ve seemed to effortlessly deal with the ever-increasing demands. But if it is getting to be too much, I am happy to run some interference for a while.”