His Kitten

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8. The Offer

Michael

I lay on the bed of the prison cell. They’d stashed me in a single cell for now. I guess they figured it would give me time to think. Also to stop any of Marchesi’s men from ending my life prematurely.

I wasn’t about to say anything to anyone. Not until I knew my little princess was safe.

Rosie Rosie Rosie, why didn’t you go find your Uncle Daniel, like I told you. He wasn’t the best choice I had to take care of you, but I knew he would keep you safe.

Instead I had a visit from his assistant, pretending to be my brief. Wanting her mobile number. I hoped to god he would find her before Marchesi’s goons did.


I looked up as the door to the cell opened. I frowned, as I looked at one of the guards. Any of them could be working for Marchesi. Just because the FBI thought I was safe, didn’t mean I was.

“Come with me Ryan, your briefs here.”

I stood up, and walked towards the door.

He pulled out a night stick, and held it against my chest. I stopped dead, and swallowed hard. Was this a ruse, was he really one of Marchesi’s men, or was I just being paranoid.

He pulled a set of cuffs of his belt with the other hand.

I rolled my eyes and held out my hands. He quickly clipped them on, and put away the night stick.

I inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. I was in way over my head and I knew it.


He walked me to one of the interview rooms. Shoved me in the door and stood outside.

I frowned slightly. This wasn’t the same man who had asked for Rosie’s cell phone number. This man was small and shrewish. With wire-framed spectacles. He looked like a lawyer. He had a briefcase with him.

“Who are you?” I demanded, before I even considered sitting down.

He smirked.

“Philip Moretti, I’m here to help you.”

He pointed at the chair and gestured me to sit.

I did so, reluctantly.

The man opened his briefcase, and took something out. It looked like a photograph, but he slid it across the table face down.

I glared at him. What the hell was this.

“Go on, take a look,” he smirked.

I slowly turned it over. My face paled as I saw my little Rosie, tied up with a gag in her mouth.

I stood up, sending the chair flying backwards.

“I swear to god, if you touch a hair on her head I’ll...”

I didn’t finish the sentence before he interrupted me.

“You’ll do what exactly Mr. Ryan. I don’t think you’re in a position to do anything,” He sneered.

I picked up the chair and sat back down, I rested my head in my hands.

“What do you want?” I asked.


The man cleared his throat, and picked up the photo, putting it back in his briefcase.

“Like I said before, I want to help you, and more importantly, help your daughter.”

I lifted my head and stared at him.

“What do you want me to do?” I asked.

He smiled. A sick smile that told me I didn’t really have any choice.

“Mr Marchesi,” he hesitated, “wants you to sign this. If you do, he’ll take care of your daughter. Make sure she wants for nothing.”

He pulled a document from the brief case and slid it across the table.

I looked at it. It was a legal document. A signed affidavit that could be used as evidence in court.

I started to read it, my brows furrowed in confusion a couple of times, and I glanced up at him.

His face was completely devoid of any emotion.

Once I reached the bottom of the page, I stared at him.

“You can’t be serious. None of this is true, it can’t be.”


He held out a pen.

“You’re not particularly good at putting two and two together are you Mr. Ryan,” he smirked.

I rubbed my head in my hands.

Then I looked at the document again.

Basically I was signing a statement, admitting to killing the man I had killed, but also implicating Daniel.

“What happens to me, and Daniel?” I asked.

The man licked his lips. “I’m your brief Mr Ryan, I will do my best to ensure that you receive the lowest sentence you can. Your co-conspirator...I will quite happily hang him out to dry, if it reduces your sentence.”

I looked back down at the document. I didn’t really have a choice. If I spilled my guts to the FBI, little Rosie would be hurt, or killed.

“What if I don’t sign?”

He raised his eyebrows. He didn’t really have to answer, I knew already.

“If it makes your decision any easier, Mr Ryan, Daniel set you up to get his hands on your daughter. Vincent Marchesi is no saint, both you and I know that, but he won’t hurt her, not unless she does something stupid.” he added.

I frowned, “Stupid? Like what?”

He rolled his eyes.

“Like trying to run. He’s not quite as forgiving as the FBI.”

I took the pen, and scribbled my signature at the bottom. Then I pushed the document back across the table.

“A wise decision Mr Ryan,” he put the document back in his briefcase, “I’ll be in touch, in the meantime if you need anything,” he pushed a business card across the desk, before briskly walking to the door, and rapping on the glass with his knuckles.

“Wait!” I yelled, “Can I see her? Rosie?”

He shook his head, “Its better this way, for both of you.”

The door opened and the guard ushered him out, then walked into the room.

“Come on Ryan, get a move on,” he growled.

I stood up and he took me back to my cell.

Best case scenario I would end my days in here, worst case they’d land me with the death penalty. It didn’t make me feel any easier that my fate was in the hands of a brief supplied by Vincent Marchesi. Worse than that, I’d agreed for my little Rosie to be looked after by the head of the Italian Mafia.

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