A Very Daddy Christmas (Lucky Lady Reverse Harems)

Chapter 27

27

Cora

T ears sting my eyes as I go inside and pick up a broom and a dustpan. I have to at least try to clean some of this mess up. It’s hard to do, however, when I’m sobbing like a child, my face burning and my heart breaking with every brush of the broom. The glass crunches under my boots as the smell of spray paint turns my stomach inside out.

The guys went out of their way to keep us safe. Maybe I should’ve been more mindful, more accepting of the limitations of our relationship. Or maybe I shouldn’t feel so guilty. We were consenting adults. We all knew the risks involved.

Our desire for one another was overwhelming. That’s the only truth I can acknowledge. Love and passion were more powerful than the fear of discovery and the ensuing repercussions. It was incredible in the moment, but now, as I scoop up broken glass and try not to puke my guts out again, I realize it all blew up in my face, ruining everything.

I set everything down, unable to do anymore.

Cursing under my breath, I go outside. I need the sharp air cutting into my lungs as I struggle to pull myself together. I’m weeping uncontrollably, shuddering and whimpering, as I try to regain some clarity.

I hear a vehicle pull over, its rumbling engine making my senses flare in a negative way. I hear the boots on the snowy pavement. The rushed footsteps.

By the time I look up, it’s too late.

“No!” I scream as a bag is shoved onto my head.

Strong arms coil around me like serpents, constricting and cutting off my air. I’m lifted off the ground, unable to fight my attacker. I keep screaming, but the sound is muffled. I squirm and kick as I’m shoved into the back of a van.

“Hold her down!” a man barks an order.

I feel someone rest their weight on me as someone else zip ties my hands in front of me.

“LET ME GO! HELP ME!” I scream from the bottom of my lungs as the door slides shut.

“No one can hear you,” another man grumbles from the darkness of captivity.

I take a deep breath and try to calm myself. If I’m going to survive this, I need to be smart. I need to try and get as much information as I can about who has me and where they are taking me.

“Who are you?” I ask, my voice trembling with dread.

“No talking!” a man snaps, startling me. They’re still holding me down.

The van rumbles up the road, making turns. Two left. One right, so far. I’m trying to figure out where we’re going as the adrenaline pumps through me in a ferocious rhythm.

A billion thoughts burn through my mind as the minutes pass in the back of this smelly van. I hear the men whispering to one another in rushed words and muttered curses.

The position I’m in is anything but comfortable. My back hurts. They’re pressing down on me even though I’ve stopped struggling.

The van wobbles as it finally comes to a halt.

I wonder what Eva will think when she returns to the bakery and realizes I’m not there. Will she call the guys? How long before they figure out I’ve been taken? Will it be too late for them to save me?

The pain and fear simmer in my chest, adding weight to an already heavy soul. Failure tastes bitter in my mouth. But I cannot fail, I remind myself. There is a life more precious than mine that I’m responsible for now. I must do whatever I can to keep my child safe.

“Get her out,” another man says as soon as the van door slides open again. His voice is low and gruff.

“Yes, sir,” one of my captors replies.

I’m hoisted up and unceremoniously carried out. I don’t struggle this time. I need to figure out what they intend to do with me— or to me. It’s cold out here. I can still hear distant traffic, but the air feels different. Thankfully, I’m taken into a building of some sort where it’s at least a bit warmer.

“Where am I?” I calmly ask as I’m forced to sit on the edge of something soft. A mattress, I’m guessing. The bag is removed from my head, giving me my answer.

It’s a motel room with peeling wallpaper, a lumpy bed, and dusty furniture. It’s the kind of place that looks like it hasn’t seen a reputable visitor, or a good cleaning, in quite some time.

Three men stand before me. Two of them are big —broad-shouldered, thick-necked bastards with cold eyes and black leather jackets. Recognition creeps in and I narrow my eyes at them. “I know you. You trashed my pastry displays.”

“You should’ve taken the hint,” the third man says. “Could’ve saved us all a lot of trouble.”

He’s older and shorter than his colleagues, but he is clearly the one in charge. Clad in a dark suit and a gray overcoat, he wears his thinning gray hair in a comb over, wrinkles drawing deep shadows around his tired, brown eyes.

“Stay outside,” he tells them. “You know what to do if she tries anything funny.”

“Yes, sir,” one of them replies.

I wait until they’re both out of the room before I say anything else. I catch a glimpse of the road outside, along with a portion of the parking lot. I know this motel. We drove past it on our way to Rutger.

“You must be Denaro,” I mumble as the door closes behind the two goons. A key turns in the lock.

“Filipo, actually. Denaro’s a nickname. It means—”

“Money, yeah,” I cut him off. “I’m guessing you’re the guy my sister and I outbid for the building.”

Denaro gives me a curious look, then chuckles dryly and pulls a chair over to the edge of the bed so he can sit closer to me. His breathing sounds heavy as if every move is a serious effort.

“You have no idea how much trouble you’ve caused with your stubbornness, Miss Levine. You should’ve just left that place, like you were told,” Denaro says. “But kids these days. You all think you can get whatever you want.”

“You and Orson St. James must have your wires crossed,” I shoot back. “He took the place from us. He figured out another way to destroy our lives and our family business. So you took me for no reason. I don’t own the building you want.”

“Oh, I know about the morality clause,” Denaro smiles. “I’m the one who paid for the surveillance, Miss Levine.”

“If you know about the morality clause, then you know the sale was annulled. So, again, I’m here for no reason. You can just let me go.”

He shakes his head slowly. “Miss Levine, you and your sister have already foiled one too many of my plans. I’m not letting you out of here until I see George Hamilton’s name on the property deed.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Your sister and your boyfriends might want to intervene in what’s about to happen next. Even the morality clause can be appealed. It doesn’t mean they’d win, but they would waste more of my time. And time, Miss Levine, is something I no longer have. I need that building, and I need it now. So, you’re going to stay here until it’s done.”

It’s my turn to shake my head. “Why that building, though? What is so special about that building?”

“It’s smart business, Miss Levine. One of my associates from Texas is coming up to open a new enterprise here, and he’ll need a good, neighborhood-friendly front. The bakery is perfect for his needs.”

“A new enterprise. Let me guess, something illegal.”

“Yet highly profitable. It’s my chance to get some of my cash resources back to where they used to be, and with a pissant sheriff like Foreman in charge, I’ll thrive in the next twelve months.”

“It’s a conspiracy, then. You’re bringing more crime into the city, and you’re using my bakery as a front. What is it? Drugs? Guns? What?”

He shakes his head again, half-smiling. “If I told you, I’d have to kill you. Let me give you a bit of advice, Miss Levine. Sometimes it’s really a good idea to not ask the questions you’re itching to ask.”

“I’m zip-tied in a dingy motel, my life is in danger and in shambles. Forgive me if I give zero shits about which questions give you discomfort and which ones don’t.”

“You’re really quite the little spitfire, aren’t you?” He looks at me with a bemused expression.

I shrug. “Just calling it like I see it. Why are you even here? Why small town Colorado? Why not stay in Chicago where the market is much bigger?”

“You just answered your own question,” Denaro replies.

“Ah. Too much competition. Small towns are easier to control,” I say, understanding.

Denaro laughs. “You’re sharper than Orson suggested.”

“How does Orson fit into this? And George Hamilton?”

Denaro takes a deep breath and leans back into his chair. “They’re both idiots. Idiots who made some terrible investments then curried favors with me in order to recover some of their losses. Naturally, because they’re idiots, they ended up digging themselves into a deeper hole. Unlike the banks and their other creditors, however, I always find a way to get what I’m owed. And they owe me a lot.”

“Why do you need George’s name on the property deed?”

“Because he owes me more than just money. And I need a fall guy for my business associate in case it all goes to shit. Hamilton also meets a tax-cut threshold I’m going to need in the long run. So, it’s more of a double benefit for me.”

“And Orson?”

“Orson facilitates various sales and negotiations for me.”

I nod. “Why do they owe you and why are they so afraid of you?”

“I have dirt on them. The kind of dirt that would bury both of them and their families.”

“Now you’ve got my attention,” I say, almost smiling. I’ve yet to find a way out of this place, but I can at least take advantage of Denaro’s moment of candor to gather intel. Should I reach safety again, I’ll have ammunition against those bastards. “What kind of dirt does a man like Orson have? Or George, for that matter? They’re both churchgoing, God-fearing, community-supporting businessmen, according to just about everyone in town.”

Denaro belts out a hefty laugh, throwing his head back for good measure. “You really have their numbers, don’t you? They underestimated you.”

“I’m not sure it matters anymore.”

“It should. Please believe me when I say I don’t wish you any harm. I’m hoping your people will get my message and stand down until George Hamilton takes over the building. I will let you go. That, you have my word on.”

I give him a hard look. “You’ve told me an awful lot about your business and this new associate. I’m a liability, aren’t I? How can I trust you?”

“Because I come from a long line of men who stand by their word. My word is my bond. Besides, killing you could get messy, and it could potentially lead to unpleasant twists farther down the road. I assured my partner from Texas that the takeover would be clean and smooth.”

I decide to press my luck and see how much more information I can get from him. “So what exactly do you have on Mr. High and Mighty?”

He regards me for a minute before saying, “Miss Levine, do the smart thing for once and just sit tight. With a little bit of luck, you’ll be home by New Year’s Eve.”

“I won’t have a home by New Year’s Eve.”

“Right, your apartment is on the upper floor,” he sighs. “Well, at least you’ll have your health.”

He gets up and walks out. I can hear his muffled voice as he leaves instructions with his two goons. My wrists are sore, and dark bruises are blooming underneath the zip-ties. My back hurts. My head’s spinning.

On my own, drowning in an eerie silence, I fall prey to the worst among my thoughts. I close my eyes and lay back on the bed, trying to imagine what Eva will do when she realizes what happened. What Sebastian, Waylan, and Riggs will do.

I pray to every god in the universe to help me find a way out of this place.