Mob Boss’ Curvy Hostage by Lisa Lovell

Chapter Seven

Sophie

I should have just called him or something. I never should have looked in the wallet. What was I thinking going through a stranger’s wallet?

I just hope none of those mob rumors are true, but the cash makes me think otherwise. And the huge money transfer? All of these clues are not adding up to form the picture I want.

I need to know for sure.

I shovel the handwritten scraps of paper out of the wallet and turn them over. They’re all locations, dates, times, and amounts that make no real sense to me. The amounts are all five-figure numbers. The locations don’t seem to follow any pattern. Nightclubs, restaurants, stores, coffee shops, are all listed. Katya’s is scrawled on one of the sheets.

A single scrap stands apart from the rest. It’s simply an address. A few numbers and letters are worn away, but I’m able to narrow it down to a few possibilities. From there, it’s just a matter of putting the address into the map app until I find something likely.

A building with that address is only a few blocks away, close to the edge of the city. I don’t know the area well, but I’ll go if it means getting answers. I’d rather find out Ryan’s true identity on my own. Straight-up asking him if he’s a criminal would be quite the relationship killer.

I’m sure there is a perfectly reasonable explanation for all of this and I’m freaking out over nothing. How many times have I said that this week? Too many.

As soon as the clock strikes five, I’m out of my seat and out the door.

“Where are you running off too?” Diane stops me before I can get more than half a block away from work. “Off to meet your mystery man?”

How does she do that? It’s like she implanted a tracking device on me somehow.

“I have to run a quick errand that I totally forgot about because I’m a dumbass.” I hope my smile is convincing. “If I hurry, it won’t ruin the rest of my week.” I dart away before she can ask questions, which I know she wants to.

Wait, it actually might be good for someone to know where I’m going. I’ve never gone after a potential criminal before. I don’t know what precautions I need to take. Should I have a gun? I wouldn’t even know where to find one.

“Diane!” I call before she has a chance to walk away. I rush back to her. “Do me a favor? If you don’t hear from me in one hour, call me. Okay?”

“What?” She shakes her head. “Why?”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m just being silly. But for my peace of mind, say you will?”

“Yeah, I guess,” she agrees. “I just hope you know you sound like a crazy person.”

“That’s actually a relief to hear,” I chuckle. “See you later.”

I feel Diane’s eyes on me until I round the corner. I walk at a brisk pace, keeping a close eye on the street names and building numbers.

The building I’m looking for turns out to be a standard old brick building with rusting fire escapes and a few broken windows. It doesn’t look as bad as some of the others on this block, but I don’t think anyone has taken care of this place in a while.

The street isn’t abandoned, not by a long shot. In the alleys, people have set up makeshift markets with everything from dyed silk to plastic jewelry. Some people are even selling food from crock pots and buffet tins. They don’t pay me any attention as I try the front door of the building I want to investigate.

It’s locked, or rusted shut, it’s hard to tell. I step into the unoccupied alley and try the door there. It’s creaky and stiff, but it opens after a few good tugs.

I expect the inside to be filthy and abandoned, but it’s not. It’s clean, though sparsely furnished. Only the windows visible from the street are dirty. The rest are sparkling as if they were cleaned recently.

There are no carpets on the concrete floor nor are there pictures on the walls.

I stand stock-still, listening for sounds of activity. For a long while, there is nothing but then I hear a door open and close, followed by the sound of light footsteps moving away from me.

I follow the sound, debating on whether or not I should call out. By the time I get to a split in the hallway, it’s too late. I have no idea where to go now and I don’t hear anything else.

“Who are you?” A voice from behind startles me enough to let out a yelp.

In the hallway that was just empty, stands a woman dressed in all black. She’s small and slender, almost like a ballerina. Her dark hair is pulled back into a neat bun making her severe bone structure look even more sharp and dramatic. Grey eyes, like river stones, watch me with a calculating glint.

“Hi,” I stammer. “I’m so sorry to just barge in. I’m looking for someone. Can you help me?”

She approaches me, moving like a cat hunting prey. “Come with me.” She takes me by the arm. Her grip is stronger than I would have expected it to be. Her nails are filed into points that dig into my arm.

“This really isn’t necessary.” I struggle to keep my voice even. “I’m looking for Ryan Madison, but I can see that I’m in the wrong place. I’m happy to leave.”

“Yes, you are,” the woman’s voice slices like a knife. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you get where you need to.”

Before I can thank her, someone else throws a sack over my head.

“What the hell?” I cry, lashing out with both arms. My arms are restrained by not one, but two people. I hear someone else approaching, too.

“Take her to the meeting room,” the woman says. “The boss needs to know about this.”

“You got it, ma’am,” a gruff man speaks as he ties my hands behind my back. Something is pressed between my shoulder blades and I’m forced to walk with my captors.

I’m taken downstairs, then upstairs, right and then left, then right again. It’s too hard to keep track. If I manage to escape, which doesn’t seem at all likely, I’ll never find my way back to the door in the alley.

I’m shoved down. My ass hits a chair, hard.

“Check her for bugs,” a man says.

“It will be my pleasure.”

Before I understand what that means, rough hands tear at my dress. Fabric rips. Cool air touches my skin where I should be covered.

“Please!” I beg. “Stop this!”

A grimy hand is pressed over my mouth. “Keep it quiet. She doesn’t like noise.”

They must mean the woman who found me. I got a good look at her. I’d be able to describe her to the police if I ever get a chance.

“Who are you?” I whisper, my voice shaking.

“Hey lady, unless you want to be thrown to the bottom of the sea with concrete on your feet, I’d stop asking questions.”

A stone of dread settles in the pit of my stomach. There can be no mistake.

I’ve stumbled into a Valente den.