Chapter Twelve
It feels surreal.
I’ve heard the monster’s name so many times, those closest to him trying to drive home the threat he presents, that I can’t imagine the legend of Mateo Morelli having a physical presence. He’s more myth than man to me, and as many times as they’ve expressed their paranoid fears about him, I’ve never experienced it.
Not until I watch Cherie shrink as the soft clap of footsteps along my driveway moves closer. I don’t know what happens when he gets to me, and I’m terrified to find out.
Cherie clutches her phone, backing up against the open car door, but staying by me, like a momma bear with her cub.
The man comes to a stop beside the car, and for several seconds, I don’t think anyone dares even breathe.
“Go home, Cherie.”
His voice sends fear slicing through me—smooth and deep, possessing the seamless confidence exclusive to a man no one says no to.
Cherie swallows audibly. I want to turn and see what he looks like, but I’m too afraid to move.
“I can’t do that, Mateo,” she says, but if I can hear the fear in her voice, I know he can.
She’s going to abandon me here with him. She won’t have a choice. Maybe she’s a good friend to Vince, maybe she even knows his family better than I do, but she’s not going to stand up to this intimidating man to save my neck—not for long.
My breath hitches as he steps closer and I feel glued to my seat, like my legs couldn’t move if they wanted to. The testaments I’ve heard about him come rushing back and no amount of optimism can deny the reality that Mateo Morelli is standing in my driveway, knowing it’s my driveway, mere feet away from the house where Vince killed two people.
Oh, God.
They’re going to kill me.
I want to get out of the car. Not to run, there would be no point, but to appeal to him. He’s here, he’s caught me—throwing myself at his mercy is my only remaining option.
“Vince is blowing up my phone.” That’s a different voice, quieter, not Mateo’s. Again, I want to look, but I feel safer if he knows I haven’t seen his face. I know that logic doesn’t hold here—he’s not some mystery assailant; he won’t let me go because I can’t identify him—but I’m in survival mode here, just trying to find a way out of this exchange that doesn’t end with my dismembered body being dumped in a large body of water.
“He’s on his way,” Cherie says, not moving. “He… Just, please, wait for him to get here. I can’t leave until he gets here.”
“Sure you can,” Mateo replies, smoothly.
“I won’t leave her with you,” she tells him.
“How heroic,” he says, not trying to hide his amusement.
There’s more movement but I still don’t look. My head may as well be glued to the headrest, for all the movement I’m capable of.
Someone walks in front of my car. It’s a man, but it’s not Mateo. I recognize his shaggy hair as he turns to look in at me, and it takes me a moment to realize it’s because he was the other man who came out of the house with Vince that night.
It feels like my chest is going to cave in as he stares at me through the windshield. He doesn’t move, and he’s calm enough that it scares the shit out of me.
You’re only that calm if you know you have nothing to worry about.
I try to find my voice, knowing I need to start speaking for myself while I can.
“Cherie, let me out,” I say, my voice unsteady.
Her eyes widen and she glances at me like I’m experiencing a psychotic break. “No.”
The door is open, but she’s standing right in my way. To protect me, but also to keep me inside. I glance over at the unlocked driver’s side door, aware that either one of them could just slide into that one if they really wanted to. Her human barrier thing is sweet, but I’m not stupid; she’s not in their way any longer than they allow her to be.
“See, she wants to meet me,” Mateo says lightly.
Dread runs through me and I realize for the first time, no, I really don’t want to meet him.
His amusement at the scariest moment of my whole entire life has finally convinced me. Vince and Francesca were right, and I am a fucking idiot.
He ducks his head to glance in at me, but I can’t look. Can’t move. Before I see more than a vague blur of him, he’s straightening again.
“Move aside, Cherie.”
His amusement is fading, impatience moving in.
“Please,” she says softly, not moving. “Vince will never forgive me.”
“He’ll be here in a few minutes,” Mateo says reasonably. “I won’t do anything that can’t be undone until he gets here and has a chance to explain himself.”
My stomach sinks, hearing him word it like that, and that does it—that breaks my phantom paralysis. I turn, pushing one leg out of the car, then the other. Cherie doesn’t move, so I can’t stand, but I finally get my first glimpse of Mateo Morelli in real life.
I’ve seen pictures, but they don’t do him justice. I guess his age to be somewhere around 30, but I’m not sure. He feels much older than me. Towering over me in my driveway, the dark-haired, dark-eyed Morelli can easily be identified as a relative of Vince’s, and yet, they feel nothing alike. A mantle of power hangs from the broad shoulders of this man, worn with the comfortable familiarity only attained by never having known anything else. This isn’t a man who had to climb to power—it’s his birthright, and if you want even a shred of it for yourself, you’d better be prepared to fight.
My blue eyes tentatively meet his gaze. I wish I felt confident, as I had all the times I insisted to other people he would probably be more understanding than they thought. “What do you mean, explain himself?” I question. “Vince didn’t do anything wrong.”
Instead of answering me, he smiles a slow, predatory smile. “She speaks.”
In a flash, he’s reaching into the car and grabbing me by the arm. A fearful cry slips out of me as he yanks me from the car, and Cherie gasps, skittering out of the way. Once I’ve cleared the door, he slams me against the closed door of the backseat.
“Hello, Mia,” he says calmly.
My breath hitches, staring into a pair of brown eyes so unlike Vince’s. Where Vince’s have that attractive spark of warmth, the emptiness in this man’s eyes chills me to the bone.
That’s the scene when Vince’s car flies around the corner, coming to a sudden, squealing stop in the middle of the road. He launches out of the car and heads toward us.
“Get away from her,” he calls out.
Mateo moves his body closer to mine. I try to lean away, but with my back against the car, there’s nowhere to go. Vince’s footsteps slow and he looks at me, more fearfully than I’ve ever seen him look.
I realize then, he might not be able to control this situation any better than Cherie.
Mateo’s still grasping my arm, and it’s definitely going to bruise. I look away from Vince, at Mateo, trying to come up with a plan, fast.
We all stand there for a wordless moment; opponents, not friends. Vince moves closer, but stops when he realizes Mateo advances on me more with each step he takes. His warm, hard body presses against mine, so close I’m certain he can feel my heart thundering inside my chest cavity. Vince stops, so consumed with dread that I can’t even imagine what he’s thinking.
And then Mateo’s free hand moves slowly, threateningly down my side to my hip. My blood turns to ice in my veins and I can’t breathe. Confusion and terror band together and render me completely useless, a glorified hood ornament. He doesn’t pay any attention to me while he does it—his eyes are on Vince. My horror grows when he smiles, as if he likes what he sees.
Oh, God. What is this?
Practically vibrating with resentment, Vince takes a step back.
Mateo’s smile doesn’t change, but something sparks in his eyes, something… deceptively pleasant. “That’s better.”
I get the feeling this is all a game to him. A parlor game, a way to pass the time. He comes out the victor in every tournament, so this… this goes on as long as it amuses him.
He obviously likes submission, so I let my arm go slack in his grip. It gets his attention, since up until then, I’ve been straining to pull away.
“Now that the gang’s all here, why don’t we take this somewhere more private?” he suggests, as if I have any say in the matter.
I nod, meeting his gaze. He doesn’t need my permission, but I give it anyway, preferring at least the pretense that I’m in some kind of control here.
He drops my arm, taking a step back. My hand automatically rises to give it a little rub, which Vince notices but doesn’t remark upon.
The other man approaches me, and I look at him, wondering what happened to his face. He has burn scars along the left side and down his neck, disappearing into his shirt. They wouldn’t have healed like that if they were from the fire next door; not to mention, he hadn’t seemed injured.
“Give Adrian your car keys,” Mateo says as he passes Vince. “You’re riding with me.”
Vince finally gets close to me, and as soon as he does, I throw myself into his arms.
“I’m so sorry,” he tells me again, holding me tight. “I’m so sorry, Mia.”
“Please don’t let them hurt me,” I murmur against him, trying to hold back tears.
“I’m gonna do everything I can,” he promises, placing a kiss on my forehead.
“Are you sure they’re gonna take us to the same place?” I ask, not at all trusting this Adrian guy.
“Yeah, we’re just gonna go home so we can sort this out. Adrian won’t act unless Mateo tells him to. Isn’t that right, Adrian?”
“Sure is,” Adrian says, easily.
Vince lets me go, but I want to hold on. I wish I could ride with him, but I know they’d never allow that.
Once Adrian gets Vince’s car keys, Vince gives me one more hug, promising he’ll see me soon, and heads toward the black Escalade Mateo already climbed inside. Adrian takes hold of my arm lightly.
“Don’t try anything stupid,” he warns, tugging me toward Vince’s car. “Mateo wants to hear what Vince has to say first, but you draw attention, I’ll drop you right here.”
I feel like we probably already drew whatever attention we were going to, but I don’t say that. I nod and climb in the passenger side seat of Vince’s car.
Adrian drops into Vince’s seat, shoving the key in the ignition and firing it up. Before he puts it in drive, he holds out his hand, saying simply, “Phone.”
It takes me a second to remember I have mine in my pocket, but I take it out and hand it over without question.
Adrian pops something into the side and slides out a tiny chip, then he dismantles it completely, removing the battery and throwing all the pieces into the back seat.
As if this is his every day, he turns on the radio, pushes a button a few times to change songs, and puts the car in drive.
I look out the window as we pass my house, and I’m sick at the thought that this could be the last time I ever see it.