“Mama?” questions Aurora in confusion. “Papa?”
I’ll explain later. I’ll explain later, little Aurora. I’ll explain later!
But how do you explain to your two-year-old daughter that there’s a good reason for holding your employer at knifepoint, and taking her money?
I have to force myself to remember why I’m doing it. Force myself to remember the danger that threatens us if we stay, because when I see my little girl’s eyes as they stare at me in utter confusion—like she doesn’t evenknowme—it’s all I can do to not fall apart.
My voice is harsher than ever as I speak once more to Debbie. “Well, what the fuck are you waiting for? Get the fuck up!”
At last she seems to take me seriously. I breathe out in relief when I see her shake as she rises up, then slowly walks toward the door.
“Can I at least put something on?” she grumbles. “I’m only wearing a shirt.”
“Well, your shirt will have to do,” I grit out, though I feel guilty about forcing her out of the house with her panties visible. Not guilty enough to allow her the chance to outsmart me, though. “You can grab the sheet from the couch on the way out.”
Muttering a few curse words, she walks out to the living room, wraps the sheet around herself, then makes her way to the front door. I keep the knife against her back as she walks slowly toward the diner on the next block. Aurora has fallen still against my chest, but I can tell she’s awake. Self-loathing rips through me, but I force myself to focus on survival, refusing to give in to the urge to reassure her. If reassuring her is even possible at this point.
“You’re not going to take all my savings,” she chokes out, pausing at the door. “I’ve been saving all my life. You can’t take it all away.”
“I’m going to take what you owe me,” I say flatly. “All the wages you’ve been withholding.”
“I haven’t been withholding anything!” she snaps, whipping around suddenly, which causes Aurora to shiver in my arms. “I’ve been feeding you, and letting you sleep on my couch!”
“And withholding wages,” I growl, pressing the tip of my knife into her neck. “There’s a name for what you’ve been doing, Debbie. Now turn the fuck around and open the door.”
The flicker of fear in her eyes melts as suddenly as it appears, when her eyes take in Aurora.
“You wouldn’t hurt me in front of your daughter,” she says, folding her arms combatively.
“I’d do a lot more for my daughter,” I hiss. “I’d even kill you.”
Her arms fall to her side as she stares at me, probably trying to find any sign that I’m lying. But I hold her gaze, and in that moment, I realize Icouldkill her. I’m desperate enough to do just about anything to get away from the threat Aurora hinted at.
She must see the glint of desperation in my eye, because she turns around slowly. “How much money, exactly, do you think I owe you?” she mumbles, her hand shaking as she unlocks the door.
I open my mouth, then close it, unwilling to answer the number that’s at the tip of my tongue.
Forty dollars.
She’d think I was insane for threatening her with a knife over forty dollars. And she owes me so much more than that. She owes me a month of wages. But how muchisa month of wages?
God, I wish I wasn’t so sheltered. I wish I’d taken it upon myself to learn the first thing about living in this world, rather than leaving my fate so entirely at the hands of first my father, and then my husband.
“We’ll see what’s in the cash box,” I say gruffly.
She lets out a small whimper when I nudge her with the tip of the knife to make her move faster. She opens the door and walks in, then stops so suddenly I nearly stab her by accident.
“What… the… fuck!”
The lights are on, although the place doesn’t open for another hour. And at the far table, two men are sitting. The first one, I recognize right away, because he’s facing in our direction. He’s wearing a suit and a fedora, and there’s a glass of whiskey in front of him, despite the fact that we’re not licensed to serve alcohol. But it’s clearly his own supply. Stubble pricks at his chin, and when he turns his piercing black eyes up to us, Aurora lets out a chirp.
“Boom boom! Boom boom!”
“Hello, Lia,” he smirks. “Long time no see.”
Fuck.
“Coltello,” I mutter, hanging back from the don’s underboss. “Guess you’ve come to take me back to Moretti?”