Chapter 14CANDI

Chapter 14

CANDI

"Kath?" Stefano's voice is hoarse.

"My friends, call me Candi. You can call me Kathleen if you have to call me anything."

He clears his throat noisily while everyone in the alley stares at me like I flubbed my choreography and ended up on my ass on the stage.

Rolling my eyes, I shrug. "What? You've never seen a stripper whose the illegitimate daughter of one of your capos? Considering how many of them screw around in the backrooms, I find that hard to believe."

"Don't talk about yourself that way," Stefano barks.

"I'm not talking about myself any particular way," I deny. "I'm talking about men like you. I'm not the one with anything to be ashamed about in this scenario."

Regardless of the terminology, I know what I am and I'm not ashamed of it. I'm a stripper. So what? It's an honest way to make a living. At least I don't beat people up and kill them over bad debts for a living.

Mario whistles. "She's got some balls. Talking to a capo like that."

I glare at him. "Doesn't take any extra bravery to tell someone the truth."

"It does when the truth can get you hurt." This from the unhelpful peanut gallery named Freddy.

"Why doesn't anyone admire my courage in standing up to you fuckers?" The guy still kneeling on the ground asks, aggrieved.

"Nobody asked for your opinion." Freddy kicks the guy who falls forward on his face.

I shudder in sympathy.

If I didn't know, he was going to die. I would think that was the worst thing that could happen to him tonight. Despite the street cleaners suddenly coming through here on a regular, the last place I'd want to be right now is face down in the wet muck.

If it's not a stray dog leaving his mark, it's the rats. And don't get me started on people thinking alleys are a great place to piss, or worse, when they don't want to bother looking for a bathroom.

"Bring her here to me," Stefano orders.

"Not going to happen." Derian sounds pretty certain of himself.

I appreciate that he does not want to let Freddy take me away, but I'm not feeling all that positive about what comes next. I'm still a witness. This is still a mafia thing.

" Lei è mia figlia. Verrà da me ."

The only word I recognize in Stefano's words is daughter, but the arrogance in his tone is a universal language.

"She may be your biological daughter, but you're not the one who put a protection order on her. That would be my boss. Don't think being a capo will save you from his wrath if you violate it."

"I am not going to harm my daughter," Stefano says in English, exasperation ringing in his tone.

I guess he uses English so I can understand the words. Like that will make me feel all warm and fuzzy toward him. As if. No chance am I letting his henchman take me anywhere.

My mom made the mistake of believing Stefano Bianchi once when he said he would protect me.

I never will.

My past shows just how empty those promises are when uttered by the untrustworthy capo.

But there's a weird sensation in my chest.

After all but ignoring my existence for twenty-four years, Stefano called me daughter for the first time. In both Italian and English.

Whatever is going on in my chest, I refuse to be moved.

"First you order my execution and now you're ordering your goon to kidnap me? That's father of the year stuff right there." I make no effort to tone down the snark.

"I didn't know it was you."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better about the fact that my sperm donor ordered the death of a perfectly innocent person tonight?"

"Hey, I'm innocent too!" Mr. Bad-Debt has righted himself into a sitting position.

Guess his knees were getting sore from kneeling.

Freddy smacks him on the back of the head. "I told you to shut your trap."

Stefano's sigh is heavy. "Bonbon never understood about mafia business either."

"Don't you say her name. You don't have the right. Mommy believed your lies. She thought you were something. But I know the truth."

"Kathleen, you don't understand. You were just a child."

"A kid never once held by her dad. While your sons were living safe in your mansion on Long Island, mom was turning tricks in the backroom to keep us in a single room, rat infested building. She was there for me. She took care of me."

"Kathleen," he says sharply, like he has the right to reprimand me.

I ignore the interruption. "But you?" I ask with all the disgust I feel. "You're nothing, Stefano Bianchi. You were nothing but a john sloppy with the condoms. And you are nothing, nothing ," I repeat with fervor. "Nothing to me."

"Did I say balls?" Mario asks, his tone filled with awe. "That's pure pussy power right there."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I demand. Is he calling me a bitch?

Derian says, "Balls can only make babies. Pussies can push them out into the world."

"Yeah. Balls? They're the weakest spot on a guy's body. Pussies are tough as hell," Mario adds.

"Shit, I never thought of that," Freddy says.

"Enough!" Stefano barks. "If you mention my daughter's pussy again, I'll cut your tongues out."

"They weren't talking about my ladybits, they were complimenting me on my strength. Keep up."

Mario licks the tip of his glove covered finger and makes a sizzle sound. "Tsss…"

Done with this conversation and ready for this night to be over, I turn to Derian. "As fun as this is, I need to get home. Can I go now?"

I don't assume I can just leave. I figure there's at least one round of threats about keeping my lips zipped before they'll let me go.

There is a glimmer of something that looks like pity in the made man's eyes. "You know that's not going to happen."

"You said you wouldn't hurt me," I remind him.

"We are not going to hurt you. We're going to keep you safe." As improbable as it should be, the voice of the man who just murdered one of his cohorts rings with truth.

Derian and Mario are not going to hurt me. At all. And sometime during the conversation with Stefano, Derian's hold on me relaxed. He's growing complacent, thinking I'm not going anywhere.

Because I'm talking to them like all of this is normal?

Too bad for him, my guard hasn't dropped once. Taking advantage of the loosened hold, I launch forward with the strength of my dancer's legs and sprint toward the mouth of the alley again.

"Hey!" Mario's voice rings after me.

Derian doesn't say anything, but I know it's the sound of his shoes hitting pavement behind me. I increase the length of my strides, running as fast as I can. I'm a dancer. Every muscle in my body is strong, but my core and legs are next level.

I can pas de bourrée couru across a stage in seconds. Using a longer stride, I'm even faster as I speed toward the street.

Unfortunately, apparently, made men trained to be on Angelo's crew are also fast. The sound of Derian's feet getting closer spurs me into a burst of even more speed. My foot hits the pavement of the sidewalk just as a hard arm comes around my stomach.

If I had the core muscles of a regular person, his hold and my momentum would knock the wind out of me. I don't. It doesn't. And I scream as loud as I can.

Not a single head of the early morning revelers turns toward me. One man dressed as a ghoul veers into the street to avoid walking near me.

Derian's not going to hurt me, but I'm not under the same compunction when it comes to him. I send an elbow straight into his side and swing my legs forward to gain momentum before kicking backward.

I hit his shins so hard with the heel of my tennis shoes, pain jars up my own legs.

"Fuck," he grunts.

But he doesn't let me go. I don't give up. I throw my head back, trying to connect with his chin. Anticipating the move, he shuffles me downward by shifting his hold on me to his other arm across my collarbone.

His fingertips dig into my shoulder as my head connects harmlessly with his chest. Harmless to him. Pain radiates through the back of my head.

"Stop that. You're going to hurt yourself."

"Let me go!" This time when I yell, a group of people turn their heads.

"You okay, lady?" a youthful voice asks.

"Say yes if you don't want that kid and his friends to end up collateral damage," Derian says in a tone that sends chills through me.

Damn it. No way am I going to let that happen. And somehow my kidnapper knows it.

"I'm fine," I yell. "My boyfriend is an asshole, but he won't hurt me."

"Fuck, don't call me your boyfriend."

"You don't want to be known as a stripper's boyfriend, don't try to kidnap one."

"What I don't want is to die," he says fervently.

"Right, as if being my boyfriend is a terminal disease."

"Trust me, it would be. Death cut off the hand of a man who touched you. What do you think he would do to a man claiming you?"

"Claiming me? What are we, living in the Middle Ages? Nobody is claiming me."

"I wouldn't count on that."

"You can count on something. If you don't let me go, I'm going to maim you." It's an empty threat, because cutting off limbs is not my thing.

But to give credence to my words, I dig my long, pointed fingernails into the skin of his wrist.

"Fuck. I'd let you go if I could. Trust me on that." He spins us around and heads back into the alley. "Get the duct tape, Mario. "

Terror rushes through me. They might have an aversion to hurting me, but there's a lot of ways to cause me harm without physically hurting me.

And being helpless to prevent those things is so not on my agenda tonight.

"Don't you dare," I shout at Mario.

"Hey, I've got some right here." Again, help from the peanut gallery that can just keep his mouth darn mouth shut.

Freddy.

I'm going to tell Piper to cut him off.

The asshole.

The tape glints dully silver in the illumination cast by the streetlights.

Our alley is one of the few in the city that has them. I always assumed that was because the club was owned by the mafia, but they didn't get installed until early this year.

Mario unrolls several inches from the roll and then holding it up at both ends, approaches me.

"Help, I'm being kidnapped. Call 911." Shouting those words over and over again at the top of my lungs, I thrash wildly, kicking and hitting with everything in me.

I believe Derian will kill witnesses, but someone can call the cops without showing their face in the alley.

"There's a dead guy here, shot by one of my kidnappers!" Murder might elicit more help than a kidnapping.

Derian's hand clamps over my mouth as he manages to trap my flailing limbs against my sides with his other arm. "Hurry the fuck up, Mario."

When Mario tries to grab my legs, I kick him in the face and he staggers back. Score one for the power of a dancer's quads.

Freddy jumps into the fray, grabbing one of my ankles with both his hands and forcing it toward the other one that Mario is now keeping immobile. Once Freddy is hugging my lower calves, the only movement I can manage is tipping my pelvis.

"Keep your face away from her body if you want to keep the eyes in your head," Mario growls at Derian, who immediately turns his head aside.

I would roll my eyes at the ridiculousness, but I'm too angry. I squirm, making it as hard as I can for Mario to get the tape around my thighs. He doesn't just wrap it once either. He takes the roll around again and again, going down several inches and making it impossible to break the restraint.

Even for a woman with the strength in her upper legs that I have.

"Move your hold. I need to get her ankles," the kidnapping jerk tells Freddy.

Freddy obeys and I take immediate advantage, kicking out with my lower legs. My knees can still bend, but there's not enough power behind the blow to do any damage.

Mario doesn't even grunt.

"Make sure the tape doesn't touch skin," Derian instructs while keeping my arms pinned and my mouth covered.

I bite him like I did Freddy, but unlike the younger man, even drawing blood doesn't make Derian move his hand away.

"You're something else, Ms. Candi. I don't know if I envy the boss, or feel sorry for him."

If Angelo is the reason this is happening to me, he should definitely feel sorry for the other man because I'm going to steal one of his knives and stab him with it.

Mario straightens after giving my calves the same treatment as my thighs. But not even a millimeter of the duct tape reaches past the hem on my jeans to press against bare skin.

"We need to gag her next," Derian mutters. "She's proving to be some kind of cannibal."

"She bite you too?" Freddy asks with glee. "Hurt like a bitch when she did it to me."

Derian doesn't answer, but blood from his wound is making his hand slick on my face and I'm able to yank my head to the side. "Serves you both right. I hope your hands get infected and fall off."

"Yeah, you better get the bites disinfected. The human mouth has more than six billion bacteria," Mario says. "Some scientists estimate it's as high as twenty billion."

"You been watching the science channel again?" Derian's hand drops away from my face since I'm not screaming.

Mario shrugs. "It's interesting." He looks at Freddy. "Give me your tie."

Neither he, nor Derian, is wearing one. Mario is dressed like how you think a mafioso would, in a suit and shiny dress shoes. But the guys that work for Angelo both wear clothes I wouldn't be surprised to see on soldiers in a dark ops unit.

Yes, I watch television too. Not the science channel, like Mario, but I learn things.

"What about me?" The metallic taste of blood makes me feel nauseous. "I've got both Mario and Derian's blood in my mouth. I'm going to have to do a full course of doxy-PEP."

"Shit. Death ain't going to like that," Mario mutters, reaching toward me with the tie.

I rear my head back.

"Wait," Derian orders. "You got a clean pocket square on you?"

Mario nods. "Course I do. I was raised just like you were."

"You guys carry handkerchiefs?" Freddy asks mockingly. "What kind of mamma's boys are you fuckers?"

"The kind that can kneecap you here in the alley and leave you for the rats to find." Suddenly the hand that isn't holding his crisp white handkerchief is filled with a gun already tipped with a silencer.

Is that the one he shot Gino with? Must be. He's not going to carry around two guns with silencers on them, is he?

The thoughts are bouncing around my brain like ping pong balls at a national tournament.

"Put that away and use your kerchief as a barrier between Ms. Candi's mouth and the tie. Who knows the last time he washed it?"

"Hey, I'm not a slob. I get my ties cleaned whenever I spill somethin' on 'em."

"Yeah, you're real fastidious," Derian mocks. "Death don't want your dirty neck sweat in Ms. Candi's mouth."

I would laugh at the ridiculous exchange, but I'm too busy trying to avoid Mario's attempt to gag me, my jaw locked tight and my lips sealed.

"Don't make it so tight that it hurts her," Derian orders.

"You don't gotta tell me not to hurt her. I like my hands where they are just fine."

"You don't have to do this," I say in desperation, my head turning side to side to avoid Mario's questing hands. "I won't tell anyone. I promise on my mom and sister's lives. Just let me go home."

"Don't worry about your ma and sis," Mario says. "They're being watched over too. Death ain't going to let harm come to them."

At the thought of my mom and sister being watched over by the mafia, I scream with frustration.

The second the pad of clean cotton pushes into my mouth, I regret giving into my anger.

"Hurry up, Mario. If someone calls the cops, that's going to be another headache we don't need tonight." Derian doesn't sound worried. Just annoyed.

Mario quickly fixes my gag in place with Freddy's tie. When I smell the sweat Derian mentioned, I'm glad Mario put the clean handkerchief in first. Not that I'm going to thank either of them for it.

Once I get free, I'm going to show them something and it isn't going to be my gratitude.

Now that I'm gagged, Derian pulls the sleeves of my oversized hoodie down over my hands and then crosses the left over the right and tapes them to my body like a straitjacket.

Unlike a straitjacket, the armholes on my hoodie are large enough to pull my arms out of without unzipping it. Not sure what that will buy me, though.

But knowing I'm not completely trapped helps keep a total meltdown at bay.

Mario tosses the roll of duct tape to Freddy, who immediately binds the bad debtor's hands behind his back. When the guy starts yelling, Freddy slaps a piece of duct tape over his mouth.

That's going to hurt coming off.

But probably not as much as whatever else Freddy and my father have planned for him tonight.

"I'll get the car." Freddy trots off, leaving his prisoner on the ground.

"Bring the SUV around," Derian tells Mario. "After all the screaming, it's just asking for trouble taking her out on the street."

Mario salutes Derian and disappears out of the mouth of the alley.

Never mind that I'm covered with enough duct tape to make me look like a silver mummy, it's my screaming they're worried about. Any other night, the tape would be a giant attention-drawing red flag, but with so many people dressed up for the Halloween parties happening tonight? Not so much.

It feels like only a few seconds have passed before I hear the purr of an SUV coming down the alley.

Derian's hold on me keeps be upright and at his side, facing away from the street. Surprised by the lack of light, I turn my head to see the SUV backing toward us, the backup lights casting a dim glow along the wet pavement.

Once the SUV stops, even those disappear. When the liftgate begins to rise, no interior lights show either.

A dark shape hops out of the driver's side and trots to the back and leans inside the opening. Derian carries me to the passenger side and puts me in the back seat of the SUV, using the seatbelt to trap me in place.

As soon as he shuts the door, I start wiggling my arms upward, stretching the hoodie fabric until, my arms are free of the sleeves and I can unzip it from the inside. Tearing Freddy's tie off, I throw it on the seat and spit out the handkerchief already wet with my saliva.

Gross.

I start working on my legs, but it only takes a few seconds to realize there are too many layers of duct tape stuck on each other to rip it. I'm still searching for the start to peel it away when the door on the driver's side opens.

"Shit! She's loose, Derian!"

This time when they truss me up, they do something with the tape that makes it impossible for me to get my arms out.

"Don't start screaming and we'll leave the gag off," Derian says.

Glaring, I refuse to answer, but I don't start shouting either. They're being careful not to hurt me, but they're also determined not to let me go.

Having the ability to call for help if I get the opportunity is my only chance at getting away. It might be slim odds, but I'm not giving them up.

I occupy myself watching two professional killers clean up the scene of their crime. Mario snaps open a body bag and lays it beside Gino, rolling the dead man into it with quick efficiency.

"Get your spent bullet so we can toss it in with the body," Derian instructs as bright headlights illuminate the alley.

Freddy is back.

"Bet you fifty I can find my brass in less than fifteen seconds," Mario says to me with a wink, proving he and probably Derian too, is aware I'm watching them.

My witness to the mob's crimes status just keeps getting more and more pronounced.

Derian shakes his head. "Don't take that bet, Miz Candi. You'll lose your fifty."

Despite the conditions in the alley, I don't doubt Derian's words.

"No bet," I mutter.

More bright headlights illuminate the alley, and I whip my head around to see a car pull to a stop close to the front bumper of the SUV.

Freddy leaves the headlights glowing when he jumps out of the car.

I'm not surprised when Derian barks, "Turn off the lights and leave the car running."

Freddy obeys without arguing. When he comes around the back of the SUV, Mario repeats his offer of a bet to the younger made man.

Freddy stares at him and laughs. "I'll take that bet. This alley is full of crap and without the Merc's headlights it's too dark."

"To be that young and na?ve again," Derian says with fake sorrow.

Mario turns on a high-powered pen light and walks forward in a straight line without looking to the left or right.

Five seconds later, he bends down and picks something up, then holds it open palm out toward Freddy. "Got it."

"Impossible!" Freddy squawks. "No way is that your bullet."

Mario shines his penlight onto his palm, where a smashed piece of metal gleams dully. "I know my bullet trajectories."

"Gross," I mutter. "There's blood and brain matter on that."

I can't believe he just picked it up like that doesn't matter.

Who am I kidding? These guys probably touch brain matter and blood on a regular basis. But it's still gross.

At least he's wearing gloves.

Mario shrugs. "If I left it behind, Death would cut off my hand just for being stupid."

"You realize it's not normal to talk about your boss cutting off people's hands, don't you?" I snark, squirming in my seat in silent protest.

Mario shrugs. "It is for us."

"Yeah, I don't envy you working for Death. " Freddy sounds entirely sincere in that sentiment.

"Open your trunk," Derian orders my father's soldier.

Looking relieved, Freddy is quick to obey. "Thanks for letting me take Gino back to the boss."

"You're taking him and your bad debtor over there to The Box."

"The Box?" Freddy asks with alarm. "Why?"

"Because our boss said to and unless you want to get on his bad side, you'll listen to him."

"But Mr. Bianchi will kill me."

"Nah. He already lost one guy tonight," Mario says consolingly. "He's not going to fire you."

"There's a lot he can do to me to make me regret disobeying him," Freddy replies.

"Yeah, but do you really think it's worse than what Death will do?"