Omerta- Book I (Winner of the 2015 People's Choice Award)

6) Whisper

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Another waiter rushed out, hurrying to our table. “Sorry for keeping you waiting, Mr. La Morte. I’m Michael, I’ll be your waiter tonight. Are you ready to order?” 

            “Give us a minute,” Ferro ordered, taking his napkin off his lap and placing it on the table. The look he gave the waiter could spoil milk. “You’ll save this spot until I get back.” It wasn’t a question. “My girl is feeling under the weather and needs some air.”

            I surely looked more confused than the waiter.

            “Of course.” The waiter nodded and left.

Was this it? Was Ferro about to take me behind the restaurant and shoot me to smithereens? Ferro stood up gracefully, running his fingers slowly down his tie and casually scanning the restaurant. When he finally turned back towards me, I noticed he couldn’t quite meet my gaze.

“Ferro,” I whispered. “You’re not…we’re not…?”

“We’re just getting some air.” It was the strangest thing, but right then and there, I was unable to move. I was unable to rebel. He was in control. Ferro gently took me by the hand and when he did my pulse skyrocketed. He kissed the back of it and helped me slide out of the booth. Surely, that gesture was for show so that the other couples at the restaurant didn’t find him suspicious. 

As if caught under some sort of spell, I didn’t so much as scream as he led me through a few tables to a door that most likely lead to bathrooms.

Ferro stopped in the hallway and pivoted, holding my hand a little tighter as he fished for his phone in his pocket with the other. He was all business now. “Do you remember your ex boyfriend’s number?”

            I kept telling myself over and over again not to cry. Crying would display weakness. Guys like Ferro fed off of tears. Ferro’s jacket had shifted and I could see the butt of his gun. I could still get out of this, right? I could make another quick getaway, just like in the movies.

“Are you really going to kill me? Just like that? In the middle of a fucking hallway?” I glanced at the decorated wall behind me, trembling. “With nice paintings? Those are some nice paintings…”

“I asked you a question,” he said, leaning over me until I backed up against the wall like a sheep being herded by a grizzly bear. “Answer me when I ask you a question. I want an answer, candy.”

“Yes, I remember his number,” I said quickly.

He handed me the phone. “Dial it, then.”

            I handed him back the phone. “Ferro…this is between you and me.”

            Ferro got in my face. His eyes were shadowy and endless. “I want him on the phone, candy. Dial. It. I want him to hear this. Don’t say anything about the murder, or the mafia.”