Thank you to Angel897 and Robin.D for the reviews and thank you to everyone else you read, favorited, and followed. This chapter is going to set up a lot of the plot and I've been struggling with it but I figured it's time to just let it go and move on to more exciting things.
I hope you all enjoy.
It's Sunday night and River is curled up in the big red recliner in Chibs' living room, a book open in her lap. The day had gone fast. After the morning conversation and exchange of real names she'd retreated into the bedroom. She'd expected Chibs to follow her and demand she finish organizing the books but he'd let her go and she'd managed to get an extra hour of sleep. She eventually got up and finished putting his shelves back in order while he worked on his bike in the dining room.
She'd finally drifted into the open room looking over the scattered metal parts littering the floor. Chibs ignored her until she'd passed him a note asking about building a bike inside but his shrugged reply had explained nothing. So she'd settled in to watch him. He didn't seem to mind and she'd been fascinated with his focus and the way he managed to fit all the pieces together following a map to completion only he could see.
Lunch time had gotten a little complicated. Chibs clearly wanted to keep working on the bike and River tried to ignore her hungry stomach but by 1pm she felt it gurgle and she knew the growling was audible when he'd looked up an apologetic expression on his face. After going months never knowing when the next meal was going to arrive her body was not a fan of missed opportunities for food. They'd cooked a frozen pizza and it made River nostalgic for the deep dish pizzas from home. She'd thought about telling Chibs as much but she'd held off. She wasn't sure she could keep sharing with him and stay strong.
At this point he has enough information to figure out who she really is, well, if he really tried. He's a smart man though and she knows he could pull it off if he wanted or needed to. Withholding details from here forward was really more about protecting him than herself. She knows he's kept several key pieces of information from his club for her and it could put him in danger.
She's done nothing but think about what happened in his dorm room Friday night for the last few days. She knows the promise he made about doing what he can to get her out of trouble is a dangerous one, potentially for them both. She peers over her book to watch him. He's back in the dining room working on the bike and from her perch on the far side of the open living space she can see him cleaning a complicated looking chunk of metal.
She should tell him everything. Well, she should tell him everything she knows which really isn't much to be honest. She knows she was snatched off a Vegas sidewalk about two months ago. She'd been headed back to her hotel after a very high stakes poker game and at first, she'd assumed the men in the van just wanted the approximately $300k she'd been carrying in her bag. They'd taken the money, sure, but then it'd become clear they knew exactly who she was.
She knows she spent about a week with that first set of men at a shitty little house outside Vegas and they'd left her mostly alone. They spoke a mix of English and Spanish and had clearly been informed that she could read lips because they turned their back whenever they spoke to each other. This and their use of her real name had made her stomach feel sour. There were only a few scenarios that would put her in this type of risk and none of them were good for her or the people she loved back home.
At the end of the first week she'd been loaded back into the van and they'd traveled. She'd had time to recognize the L.A. skyline as they'd moved her from the windowless van and into another shitty little house. At this point many of the original men had slowly started going missing and River found herself surrounded by jailers who didn't know to keep their backs turned. She knows she stayed in that house for almost a month, sleeping, pacing, and occasionally eating in the same small back bedroom.
The bright spot, if you could call it that, had been the only other woman in the house. River never learned her name but they'd sent her in occasionally to clean the room and after a few tries River had managed to convince the woman that it was in her best interest to occasionally let her out when the men were away. It had been during these brief exits from the bedroom that River picked up most of her information. First that she was being held by the Lobos Sonora Cartel, then that she'd been in captivity for 37 days, then that her disappearance was known and coincided with a potentially more important event.
That last one had been a shock. Staring down at her own image on the old paper. The shock had quickly turned into dread when she read what was available of the story. She can still see the printed words clear in her mind, Sofia Rosalie Santorini missing since July 28th. Last seen the same night her father Piero Santorini, known Consigliere to the Chicago based DiForno mafia, was arrested with boss Nicco DiForno on charges of racketeering and obstruction of justice. A known mafia princess in Chicago, Sofia was visiting Las Vegas on vacation and… The story had a new page number for continued reading but the rest of the section was missing and River had been left with only the snippet. It was enough.
A known mafia princess indeed. The knowledge that her father and Uncle Nic had been picked up the same night she was snatched off the Vegas street had dashed her last hopes of a pending rescue. In fact, it dashed her last hopes of going home. She knows there had been trouble brewing on the streets of Chicago for months. It was one of the reasons her father had suggested she take the trip out west. He'd packed her off with enough cash to keep her busy and a suggestion that she give the western leg of the pro-poker tour a try for the summer.
She'd only been kept in the L.A. house for another week after finding the paper before being moved to a new location further north. They'd stayed in a new house out in the woods for a few weeks and then moved again and then again. By this point she'd been held for over two months and she had been pretty sure she was on the verge of madness. She'd spoken to no one, they fed her erratically, and occasionally slapped her around. Still, if they'd wanted her dead there would have been no food at all, so she'd stayed calm and waited it out.
Things had shifted into high gear around day 70. She'd been sleeping on the floor of a flop house, god knows where, when a boot to her stomach woke her up. After the initial shock wore off she'd been left in a state of silent terror. Watching as the men who'd been holding her scrambled wildly around the room, glass flying, guns in hand. It had taken longer than it should have for her to realize that they were being shot at from outside the house and when it had finally sunk in she'd tried to run. Scrambling on her hands and knees over broken glass for cover.
Her reaction had come too late though. Most of the excitement had been over by the time she'd started moving and the men of Lobos Sonora did not take kindly to what they saw as an escape attempt in the midst of an attack. They'd beat her already frail body and chopped off her long dark curls with a blunt knife. After that they'd moved every few days, no longer staying in houses but in warehouses set up with guns like fortresses.
Two nights before the massacre at the Lodi warehouse River caught sight of an unattended cell phone. The first such mistake made by her captors in a long 3 months. Ignoring the risk she'd snatched the small device off the table and she'd been halfway through a text to a cousin when they'd caught her. The result was another beating and the pulled fingernails. She knows she will never forget the feel of the cold pliers at her fingertips as they ripped her flesh from her body.
Now here she is, a week later, comfortable in Chibs' living room knowing what happened but unable to fill in the why. She doesn't know if her father is still in jail or why he'd really been arrested in the first place. Racketeering was so generic, it could cover a range of crimes she is sure he's guilty of. She knows that he wouldn't have been picked up unless someone turned state's witness or evidence was planted, he's too powerful for anything less, and both options leave her dangerously exposed.
For all she knows she could get away from SAMCRO, make it home, and wind up dead in a Chicago gutter. As her father's only daughter, she's not heir to his position as Consigliere but she knows more than enough to earn her a bullet in the brain. Her poker career had often been a great laundering cover and her father had encouraged her interest for this reason. She is also well placed to point the finger at any one of her many "uncles" and "cousins" for an endless list of murders and RICO crimes. She'd become such a common site in their favorite bars and houses they'd generally forgotten she could read lips and she knows the details of far more than most women in the "family". Another skill her father had quietly encouraged.
She feels like her capture by the Lobos Sonora wasn't accidental but whether it was ordered by a rival Italian family, her own, or someone else she doesn't know. She doesn't know if they were supposed to get her out of the way to prevent WitPro or if it was someone trying to use her against her father. She doesn't know why Luis spared her life when she means nothing to the Galindo Cartel. She doesn't know how Luis knew her real name or why he'd passed her on to the motorcycle club. If she could get her hands on a computer she could piece it all together but Chibs doesn't have a computer in the house and she's pretty sure his shitty prepay doesn't have internet access.
The weight of the unknowns settles over her shoulders and River lets out a deep sigh. She's just about to look up from the book again when Chibs' hand appears under her nose. He's standing in front of her, watching her face carefully as he wipes his grease covered hands on a rag.
"Yeh want dinner?" He looks tired and she wonders if he was doing his own hard thinking while she was silently sorting through her last few months. She shrugs and she realizes this is the wrong move because he crouches down so he's on her eye level. "Yeh okay lass?" He's watching her intently.
She drops her eyes back to her book. She is exhausted and after finally allowing herself to think everything through she's feeling nauseas at all the possibilities. She wonders if he realizes how much effort it takes to always read his lips, to have to write everything out instead of speaking her native language. She looks back up to his face and the look of concern in his eyes is so genuine she feels bad for the ill thoughts. He really has been trying, more than anyone else in the last few months. Hell, more than some uncles and cousins who have known her since birth.
She reaches over grabbing the pen and paper from the table by the chair. Balancing the notepad on the book she writes.
I'm tired. Not too hungry.
He reads the note and raises and eyebrow. "That's a first." He seems to think for a moment. "How about I order yeh something anyways. I have an idea." She shrugs, and he takes it as agreement because he gets up and wanders off.
She looks back down at the book and the pages swim before her eyes. She can feel the tears hovering just on the edge of her vision and she forces them back. She's got to keep her head in the game. She can't fall apart, there's no one to pick up the pieces if she does.
More will be coming soon.
We're also quickly approaching a time when this story may need to transition to an M rating for a number of reasons. I can either bump the rating or I can start a new story that will hold the "missing scenes" at an M rating. I've done both in the past but I figured I would see if there are any opinions out there, let me know in the comments if you have a preference.
Reviews of any kind are always welcome. Thank for reading!