The Mafia Kidnapped Me

(3) Being Lady Pamela.

"Thanks, man, I appreciate your help." Detective Dwayne had said shaking the Mafia boss's hands where they stood by the front door as he was leaving. Cody was holding it open for them.

"Why aren't you arresting him?!" Pamela had yelled, running down the stairs.

The three men turned to look at her but she only noticed the Mafia's full-blown brown-eyed gaze that followed her every move with a curious intensity that made her feel self-conscious.

"Miss King, you should be grateful to this man," The detective started and continued. "He saved your life."

She snorted cynically. "Grateful my foot! He has arms, ammunition – a building full of them and I can bet my right arm he has drugs too!"

"Fake guns, Miss. Just decorations and for the drugs, I hope you have proof."

"Detective Dwayne, trust me when I say that this man," She pointed a finger at him. "Is nothing but a dangerous and hardened criminal, you told me so yourself, blast it!"

Dwayne laughed. "There are some things you don't know, Miss King." He lifted a finger to stop her when she opened her mouth to interrupt him. "However, all you should keep in mind is that you'll be safe with him."

Pamela couldn't believe the detective was taking the murderer's side, just like her mother was. She regarded the balding dark-skinned man with anger and felt like tearing out what little mat of hair remained on his head. And to think she'd given him credit.

Could she blame him though? Considering how over-worked and under-paid most government workers were, she wouldn't be surprised if he was doing all he did because his palm had been greased.

She turned sideways to look at the Mafia boss, hating the fact that he seemed unfazed by her outbursts, what, with the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows and his two hands in his pockets, how more unbothered could he look? She hated that it made her feel stupid and hated the fact that his goddamned sexy - uh - ugly and toady eyes danced with quirky humor and coolness at the same time.

She'd wanted to insist that she be taken back home, wanted to yell bloody murder, but she remembered that she had to retrieve her father's body first. It had been so embarrassing when she had had no choice but to stalk off back to her prison.

Pamela groaned and punched her pillow. She still felt embarrassed. She sat up and shifted to the rear end of the bed and then placed her legs on the soft carpet. It had a lovely feel to her bare feet. She yawned and stretched and unconsciously caught her reflection in the mirror.

Her brown hair was all over the place due to the way she'd turned and tossed through the night. The first three days that she spent in the safe house had been restless and she'd woken with bags under her eyes. Thankfully, they were receding because she was given adequate care by Susan who was the only ally she had, and inadvertently, the barking of dogs that she heard from time to time.

Susan calls her lady Pamela. Pamela hated the title for two reasons: it reminded her of how demeaningly the Mafia boss had said and it also, it still reminded her of how demeaningly the Mafia boss had said it. No one used titles anymore so it was certain he gave the instructions just to mock her. As much as it annoyed the crap out of Pamela, she soon realized that Susan had no choice. The dark-haired cynical boss had given her the order and it had to be followed without complaint.

Talking about him, she hadn't seen him since the confrontation. Pamela felt it was a blessing because she didn't know what would happen if she set eyes on him. She could rush at him and drag his hair out strand by strand, or she could hide in embarrassment. Whichever.