"Game's over, sweetheart." John's breath brushed against her ear. "You can stop pretending. How much did you hear?"

"Nothing," Alessia squeaked. Then she gagged as he pressed her harder against the fence, the top post digging into her stomach. She struggled for air. She was going to be sick.

"Who are you working for?"

"My... parents," she choked out. She grabbed the wood with one hand, trying to push but it was no use. He didn't move an inch.

"Where's your phone?"

"Barn," was all she could manage.

With an eye-watering grip on her upper arm, he stepped back. She sucked in a gasping breath, the relief instant, despite his painful hold. The relief was short-lived as John yanked on her arm, pulling her toward the barn.

It's for the phone. Just the phone. Her thoughts did nothing to calm her pounding heartbeat as he dragged her alongside him. At least she could try and find another weapon in the barn.

They went around the back where the sliding door was slightly ajar. John must have gotten it open before realizing she went out a different way. Inside, everything was as she'd left it. The book and phone still sat next to the tool bucket.

John picked up the phone and, keeping his grasp tight on her arm, handed it to her. "Turn it on."

Hands shaking, she took the device and pressed the button to turn on the screen. As expected, nothing happened.

"It fell in the hot tub," she said, her voice wavering.

"How convenient." He took it from her and slipped it into his pocket. "You have some explaining to do."

"Are you... are you going to shoot me?" she asked, breathless.

"If you give me a reason to shoot you, yes." He pushed her toward the front of the barn.

She swallowed. "I didn't do anything." Her voice regained some of its firmness. His words weren't reassuring, but she knew he wouldn't be able to find a reason. "I was just walking around my own house."

"Then why pretend you can't speak English?"

"Just for fun."

He said nothing, but she could sense him shaking his head. They came to a stop at the door Alessia had locked and he pushed the wooden bar to the side.

"Give me my phone back," she said as he slid the door open.

He pushed her out the doorway. "I don't think so."

She clenched her teeth. "Excuse me?"

"Not until I've checked everything."

"You can't do that," she snapped.

"Sure I can. But I'll be nice. If you're telling me the truth, you'll get it back tomorrow." He pulled her into a walk back toward the house.

"And how will you know I'm not lying?"

"I have resources. Now be quiet." He jabbed her back with the gun as if to remind her he was in charge, not her.

As she walked, Alessia balled her hands into fists, wishing she could scream again. How did her life go from miserable to miserable and at the mercy of a criminal? And, more concerning yet, how was she going to get herself out of this?

The march back to the house was silent. While he said he wasn't going to kill her, that didn't mean he wouldn't shoot her in the leg or something. It wasn't the first time she'd faced a gun either. But she knew all too well what could happen.

What else could she have done? Once again, she'd found herself completely unprepared and helpless. At least this time she hadn't put anyone in danger but herself.

They reached the house and John led her through the front door and across the foyer. He was heading for the stairs.

Alessia planted her feet. She'd sit down and talk, but not up there. But John kept pulling, keeping his grip firm.

"Move," he said warningly.

"I can't..." she wasn't sure what to say. The idea of being forced into his room was terrifying. Maybe she did prefer to be shot.

"Do what I say and you'll be fine." He pushed her up the first step.

"I think," she choked out as she forced herself up the steps, "we have different definitions of 'fine.'"

"Calm down. If you're telling the truth you have nothing to worry about." They made it to the top of the stairs and he pulled her to his door.

"Isn't that what they always say?"

Ignoring her, he reached around her to open the door, then pushed her inside, not roughly. He closed and locked the door, then gestured to the bed.

"Have a seat," he said.

"I'd rather stand."

"Suit yourself." John backed away, keeping his eyes anchored on her as he pulled out his phone and put it to his ear. He leaned against the wall next to the window and held his gun in his other hand.

"Hi, Rob," his voice cut into the silence. "Could you do me a favor?" He paused, giving Alessia a smirk. "Yeah. I know. Tony is a little busy right now. Could you just check on a..." he lowered the phone. "What's your full name?"

If he hadn't had that gun in his hand, she would have kept her mouth shut. Instead, she stared at the weapon and managed, "Alessia Martelli."

John repeated the name. "Birth date and place?" He gave Alessia a pointed look.

She cleared her throat and told him her birthday, then immediately wished she hadn't. She was making this too easy for him.

He repeated the information into the phone. "Don't keep me waiting." He hung up. The room fell silent and John continued to watch her, twirling the gun with his fingers.

"What do you need to check on?" Alessia asked, wondering if she really wanted to know the answer. She was pretty sure she did. At least that way she'd know what was going on.

"Just making sure you're not working for anyone... dubious. For your sake, I hope not." He said it so coldly. So matter-of-fact. His gaze dark and steady.

She looked away and crossed her arms, her eyes landing on the locked door.

"Don't even think about it," John snarled. "I'll shoot you in the foot before you even take two steps."

She should keep her mouth shut, but that right there? That was uncalled for. "How dare you."

"Excuse me?"

"I have no idea what you're up to but this is totally unnecessary. You have no right to come to my parents' property and then treat me like this. Why won't you just kill me? I heard what you said on the phone. You just ordered someone else to be tortured and murdered." Alessia shook her head with a scowl. He was just like that man who killed Luca. He didn't care whom he hurt. All that mattered was his own skin, his own agenda. Even if it destroyed other people's lives or families. "What kind of monster are you? "

His expression grew serious, and instead of answering, he pushed away from his spot against the wall and walked to the window.

She must have touched a nerve. She debated now if she should push harder or let it be. Pushing might just get her into more trouble. But just sitting there awaiting her fate was stupid too.

"You..." her voice shook. "People like you are the scum of the earth. You're useless hot air-"

"Enough," John snapped. With two long strides, he was in front of her and grabbed her chin roughly with one hand. "I'm beginning to think I liked it better when you couldn't speak English," he said, squeezing her cheeks so hard it brought tears to her eyes. Bolts of ice shot down her spine at his touch. Her heart pounded as she was forced to look at his face, contorted in anger.

"So don't make me cut out your tongue." He released her with a shove, the force of which pushed her flat onto the mattress.

"Don't touch me again," she snarled. Her face stung. She rubbed at it as she sat up, glaring at the man across the room. Her chest was hot with anger, but she took in a few deep breaths to bring it back down to a simmer.

He didn't respond.

Why did that annoy her so much? Her skin still burned where he'd touched it and all she wanted was to stop feeling it. She swallowed, then slowly settled herself onto the edge of the mattress, tugging down the hem of her T-shirt over her thighs. She poked her finger through one of the holes in her T-shirt.

"Who is he? The man being tortured." It wasn't the best conversation starter, but it was the first thing that popped into her mind and she couldn't help herself. Would it help her feel better if she knew? Probably not.

John glanced over his shoulder at her for a moment, a look of disbelief on his face. "You're still talking?" He shook his head, exasperated, then returned his gaze to the window. "I don't know. Never met him."

"What did he do wrong?"

John sighed impatiently and turned on his phone's screen.

"Am I going to end up like him?"

This warranted a glance from him. His expression was serious. "Are you scared? Because you should be. I don't like it when people lie to me. If there's any hint that you're a fraud, maybe you will end up like him, as you said."

She didn't move, didn't blink, didn't breathe. She wasn't sure if it was just an empty threat or if he meant every word. In any case, she didn't want to think about it.

"You'll be fine, cupcake," he said, returning his attention to his phone. "If you're telling me the truth now, I'll be gone soon and you'll never see me again."

"So are you some kind of spy?"

John laughed.

"Mafioso?"

Still smiling, he turned to look out the window. Which was an answer on its own.

Great. Just great. She was stuck in a room with a mafioso and if he found one reason, he'd slaughter her. Just like that. All he was waiting for was that phone call. Which shouldn't be too worrisome, since she had no connections whatsoever. She was the goodest girl in the world. She'd never even gotten a traffic ticket. All he would possibly find was the story about Luca's death. Her heart suddenly felt heavy. She didn't want him asking questions about that. But maybe he would just get a thumbs up and no details.

But once he did realize he had no reason to kill her, what then? Would he just let her go? She'd run to the police and accuse him of attempted murder.

Or she'd just stay out of his way. Far out of his way. Then he'd finish whatever business he had here and she'd never see him again. Depending on what he meant by business.

She couldn't stop herself from asking again "So, you're just here to hang out?" She could have slapped herself. Why ask and make it her business?

John studied her for a moment with narrowed eyes. "For all intents and purposes," he finally said, "yes, I'm just here to hang out."

With that, he glanced at his phone again, shook his head, and lowered himself into the chair by the window. He laid the gun on the armrest, one finger stretched over the trigger. He wasn't watching her directly, but she knew one move and that thing would be aimed at her again.

With a soft sigh of defeat, Alessia scooted across the mattress until her back rested against the wall. She tried not to look at the man sitting on the other side of the room. He seemed content to stay there all night, gun in hand, waiting for that fateful phone call. And that was fine with her, as long as he stayed back and didn't point that stupid gun at her again. She just wished her heart would stop pounding in her chest so hard she could barely breathe.

Come on Rob, hurry up and call back.

The night wore on. The phone never rang.

***********************
Author's Note:

And now... we wait. 😁 Well, I'm going to try and get Chapter 9 posted this week, but I'm busy with prep for a book signing this weekend among other things so, it may or may not take a little longer. Hope you enjoyed the chapter!