Trapped in his End Game (Series)

I don’t want to be one of those pathetic women, who hangs on to a guy even after he’s stated his complete lack of interest, but I feel like I might become one.

I regret it.

Why couldn’t I just enjoy it, like he said?

The office darkens as I shut off the light, and I trudge downstairs by myself, avoiding the noisy lights of the entrance.

Because I’m a fucking idiot, that’s why.

The door opens in front of me as I push, and I step into the night. The parking lot is eerily silent and the powerful lights flooding the area freak me out, for some reason. Everything is too white. My footsteps seem to echo too loudly as I approach my car.

Somehow, I know that I’m being watched.

I bundle my jacket around my waist, suddenly cold as I feel a breeze, but it’s not a breeze. There’s movement behind me. I spin around, as a sharp pain pierces my chest and a man throws something black-something soft over my head. The black hood swallows my scream as he twists my arms behind my back and I hear the scream of a car rapidly approaching.

“Nathan, what are you doing?”

It has to be him. He got me while Joe wasn’t around.

I grapple with him wildly, kicking out with my foot only for it to connect hard with solid metal. My scream of pain echoes in the parking lot and then he grunts, opening a door and next thing I know, I’m shoved inside.

“Shut the fuck up. Frank, shut her up!”

A man with a strong Jersey accent in the front seat talks to the man sitting beside me.

“Nathan! Nathan, don’t do this!”

The car moves and I lunge for the passenger side door, colliding with a man who blocks my exit.

“Fuckin’ crazy broad. Stay still!”

“NATHAN, PLEASE!”

I’m out of my mind with terror. Never has the edge between life and death been so clear. I’m abducted and in a car, and no one will come looking for me. Not Joe, certainly not my siblings. I imagine my clothes ripped from my body, the faceless men in the car shoving apart my legs to rape me. I try to rip off the hood, and a huge fist slams into the side of my head. Stars burst in the blackness as I keel over like a falling tree, blinded by throbbing pain. I land on someone’s knee, but he shoves me off roughly.

“Sit down and don’t fight, or you’ll get another one.”

“Please. Just let me talk to Nathan. Let me explain-”

“Who the fuck is Nathan?”

The low voice to my right, Frank, asks the question.

“Just shut up, Ms. Toffoli,” says the same man from the passenger seat. “It’ll be over soon. We just want to talk.”

Through the pain pounding in my skull, there’s confusion. We? Who is we? My hands fly out as the car makes a sudden left turn. “Who are you?”

A second blow connects with the back of my head and I slam into the passenger seat. Tears burst from my eyes as the pain radiates down my neck. The men in the car laugh as I curl into myself. Tears drip down my face, soaking through the black cotton hood. I want to cry out from the pain, so I stuff my fist in my mouth for half an hour and moan into it until the car stops.

The hood rips from my head and sudden brightness blinds my eyes. Frank, a stout man with pockmarked skin, yanks my arm. I stumble out of the grey Mercedes, looking around wildly. We’re in the midst of a crumbling neighborhood, the kind that I’d never walk through alone. Three other men surround me as I’m shoved down the street and into a dank building, which I recognize as a restaurant. There are dozens of holes gouged into the walls, small round holes that look suspiciously like bullet holes. The strangest feeling creeps up my back.

A man in his forties with a rectangular face stares at me from a table. He’s dressed in a pinstriped suit. Frank pushes the small of my back and I stumble forward on shaky legs. They want me to sit with this man, whoever he is. A decanter of wine sits in front of him and two wine glasses.

“Who are you? Why am I here?” I can barely force the words from my lips.

“Please, sit down. My name is Jamie. Jamie Tucci. I represent Carmine Lucchesi.”

I pull back the chair, hyper aware of the men crowding around the table. One places his hands on his hips and I see a flash of silver. A gun.

Oh, God. I’m going to die here.

I collapse into the chair, feeling faint as Jamie gives me a shrewd look. “I-I’m afraid I don’t know who that is.”

He takes the decanter of wine and slowly pours himself a glass. Briefly, he looks at me as it hovers over the second glass. Like I’d drink anything they’d give to me. I shake my head.

He swirls the glass and inhales deeply. “You’ve been missing payments for weeks, Ms. Toffoli. Where’s my money?”

I stare at him, aghast. “Are-Do you know Jack? Is this part of his-”

“You’re in Jersey,” he growls. “The Vittorios have no hold over me here. Your Dad and the Lucchesi family recently began a business relationship together. You owe us four payments. Ten grand each.”

Are you fucking kidding me?

“Listen, my Dad never told me about any of his business arrangements. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”Text property © Nôvel(D)ra/ma.Org.

He straightens in his seat and folds his arms, looking unimpressed by my argument.

“Are you men in the New York mafia?”

Jamie looks around at the others in disbelief and turns back towards me. “I just fucking told you that you’re in Jersey. We’re the Carmine Lucchesi outfit. I represent him, which makes me God to you.”

The guys surrounding us let out appreciative chuckles.

Suck-ups.

“Why are there bullet holes all over this place?”

“You’re sitting at the table where Carmine slaughtered Tony Rizzo, the old boss, and his entire crew.” Jamie smiles, as if reflecting on his fondest memory.

They’re all a bunch of psychopaths. I didn’t even know there was more than one family.

Of course there is, you idiot.

Oh, Jesus. Dad, what the fuck did you get me into?

Frank grabs the back of his chair and looks at me. “Jamie, it’s possible she didn’t know about our arrangement. Her father died a few weeks ago and we’ve never seen any of his kids around him. It’s possible he never even told them about us.”

Jamie takes a huge sip of wine and slams the glass on the table. “What a fucking mess.” He slips a hand inside his jacket and I back into the chair as he points the gun straight at my heart.

“We also know that you’ve been double dealing with New York, and that shit is going to stop right now.”

“I can’t do that!”

My chest feels like a drum, pounding blood so violently that I shake from its force. Jamie’s gun aims at my face and I flinch.

“What am I supposed to do? They threatened me and my family.”

“It’s simple, Ms. Toffoli. You need to make a choice. Them or us.”

My fingernails dig into the armchairs. “Either way, I’ll die, and your fat paycheck will disappear.”

He smirks. “Then sell the company to us. Lences Holdings is owned by one of our partners. Let the sale go through, and we’ll forget about any payments owed.”

I’ll still be killed. Joe might do it himself.

The gun lies flat on the table as he takes another drink, his teeth stained purple. Even if I sold the company to them, there would be no guarantee of my safety. I could testify against them, put them in jail. I’m only safe as long as I delay the shit out of this decision.

“Choose wisely, Ms. Toffoli, and stay the fuck away from Joey DiFiore. We’ll be watching you.”

Frank shoves me from the chair and I throw my hands out, connecting with a tiled floor that looks suspiciously stained with a dark red substance that can only be blood. Laughter roars around me as I get up in disgust, wiping my palms on my slacks. Somehow, I don’t really feel any fear as I’m escorted out of the place.

Just shock.

They don’t bother to put the hood on me as they drive me to some shitty area of what I’m guessing is Newark. The car stops abruptly and Frank raises his foot and kicks me out of the car. My back slams into the pavement and I wheeze as the air is knocked out of me. Smoke blows over my face as the car screams away, leaving me alone in the streets. Several passersby approach me with concerned faces.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine!” My palms are bleeding and my head still pounds from the blows.

One of them is already on the phone with police, and I limp away, terrified. “Hey, where are you going?”

“I’m fine!” I scream over and over, even when I realize I have no idea where I am or how to get back. The screams die down to whispers that I utter to myself.

Fine. You’re fine.

You’ll just have to fool both of them, that’s all. Everything will be fine.