Page 61 of His Kidnapped Queen
“Lamb chops?” I ask hopefully, and he ducks down and takes a package of meat out of the fridge.
“Mashed potatoes on the side okay?” he asks, and I dart my eyes to the front door before I can think better of it. He clocks me immediately and shakes his head. “None of that. I’ll have to shoot you, and I don’t think either of us want that.”
I swallow hard. Just from the way he says it lets me know he means it.
“Yeah, alright. Mashed potatoes are good.”
Diego cooks efficiently, like it’s a science experiment instead of a meal, but by the time he has the lamb chops on top of the stove, it smells like heaven.
“Where did you learn to cook?”
“My mother,” he answers, but doesn’t elaborate.
He places two plates on the table, one in front of me. He stands as he eats a bite of homemade mashed potatoes.
“Try it,” he urges when I just watch him.
He hasn’t given me a knife for obvious reasons, so I pick up the lamb chop by the bone and take a bite, my eyes widening. “Oh, it’s delicious.”
Maybe ever better than Agnes’s, but I won’t tell her that.
I eat voraciously, not knowing when I’ll have another meal this big, this good.
He chuckles. “I guess you do like it.”
“Told you, it’s delicious.” I pause, knowing that I should at least try to get some information out of him. “Where did you say Luca was?”
“I didn’t.”
“You could tell me.”
“I could. I’m not going to.”
“Better yet, you could let me go,” I suggest, figuring it’s worth a shot.
Diego cracks a smile and it makes him look twenty years younger.
“That one’s not going to happen, I’m afraid.Caputo?—”
“Luca,” I say, and he hums in the back of his throat.
“He wants you here. So here you stay. Until further notice.”
“Further notice?” I stretch, arching my back and groaning. “Do you mind if we walk around? I’ve been stuck in that room a long time.”
Diego stares at me with a shrewd gaze, so long that I start to feel uneasy. But then he shrugs.
“Wouldn’t hurt. We can go out on the balcony for some fresh air.”
He walks close to me but doesn’t touch me, leading me out of the back of the house onto the balcony. It looks down over a small garden of daisies and various other flowers. It’s cute.
“Not exactly what I expected,” I say.
Diego tilts his head, confused.
“This place. It isn’t exactly a common mafia safehouse.”
“How would you know?”
