When I climb into the passenger seat of the BMW, I feel a little apprehensive.
I’m taking a huge risk by getting into a car with a man I barely know.
Barely…ha! I don’t even know his freaking name.
When my mystery man settles behind the steering wheel, I watch as he adjusts the seat.
My eyebrow pops up. “Isn’t this your car?”
“No, it’s a friend’s.”
He starts the engine, and realizing he’s going to drive through Manhattan with a balaklava on, I let out a snort. “You look like a bank robber. The cops are going to pull us over.”
“Let’s hope that doesn’t happen,” he mutters as he reverses the BMW out of the parking bay. “Where do you live?”
Knowing he can find my address on my membership form, I don’t bother lying and tell him where to go.
We drive in silence for a minute or so before my nerves get the better of me, and I blurt out, “This isn’t nerve-racking at all.”
Turning left at a set of traffic lights, he says, “It’s the same as being in a room with me. Try not to worry.”
“It’s not the same,” I argue. “There are no security cameras. Right now, it’s your word against mine.”
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he murmurs. “Besides, I enjoy your company and won’t do anything to jeopardize our time together.”
My eyes settle on him, and I watch as he steers the car.
Weirdly, I believe him when he says he won’t hurt me.
Why?
Am I being gullible, or is my gut instinct right that he might be one of the good ones?
I thought Todd was one of the good ones. Look where that got me.
Forcing my thoughts away from Todd, I think about the past few hours I spent with my mystery man. Even though I couldn’t lie on the bed for more than a few minutes, I feel I made some progress.
Holding his hand was nice.
It was more than nice. I felt safe with him and there was a fluttering in my stomach.
I even managed to tell him a little about my past, which was a first for me.
When the BMW comes to a stop, I’m yanked out of my thoughts and realize I stared at my mystery man all the way home.
Look who’s being the creepy one.
“Thanks for the ride,” I say while pushing the door open.
As I climb out, my mystery man also gets out of the car. He looks up and down the street before glancing at my apartment building.
I watch as he walks around the front of the BMW, then he says, “I enjoyed tonight.”
“Me too.” I take a step toward the entrance. “Drive safely.”
He nods and keeps watching me as I walk into the building.
When I lock my front door behind me, a smile tugs at my lips.
I might not know who my mystery man is, but he’s helping me a lot.
Walking to my bathroom, I wash my face and brush my teeth.
I feel safe in that room because security will rush to help if something happens.
Then again, I just spent ten minutes alone in a car with a man who’s a virtual stranger to me.
Which means I feel safe with him.
Right?
I spit out the toothpaste and rinse my mouth before I head into my bedroom. Pulling the covers back, I look down at the bed and wonder whether I’ve made any progress at all.
Maybe the sense of security I get at the club is keeping me from freaking out.
Shit.
The thought crosses my mind to ask my mystery man to meet me at my apartment for the next meeting, but I banish the idea before it has a chance to take root.
Letting out a huff, I climb under the covers and punch my pillow.
I need to sleep now. I’ll worry about this tomorrow.
Franco
When I walk into Renzo’s penthouse, it’s to see Domiano, Angelo, and Dario already seated in the living room.
Everyone has a grim expression on their face, and the air is tense with anger.
That’s how the Cosa Nostra works. If you attack one of the five heads, you have to deal with all of us.
I head straight to the liquor cabinet to pour myself a tumbler of whiskey.
“What took you so long?” Renzo asks.
“I had to drop my PA off at home.” Taking a sip of the whiskey, I turn around and see everyone’s watching me.
“Jesus, did you make her work until midnight?” Dario asks, not looking impressed with me. “No wonder your assistants never last longer than three months.”
“No, I didn’t make her work until midnight,” I mutter.
Everyone’s eyebrows fly into their hairlines, and I let out a sigh. “No, I’m not fucking my PA. Can we stop talking about her and focus on the problem?”
When I take a seat, Renzo passes his phone to me. “Look at the photos.”
I scroll through them, and seeing that Steve’s eyes are gouged out, and his body is positioned the same as Christ’s was when he was crucified, I’m filled with rage.
It’s a brutal way to die. I’ll make the fuckers pay for what they did to Steve.
“I think it’s safe to say whoever ambushed the truck is trying to send us a message,” Renzo says.
“Do you think it’s because of the route the truck was on or because they were after the weapons?” Angelo asks.
I let out a sigh. “Seeing as they emptied the truck, they were probably after the submachine guns.”
“Fuckers,” Renzo growls. “That was an important shipment.”
“I’ll check with my contact in Paraguay. I might be able to arrange a shipment of Heckler & Kochs,” Damiano says.
Renzo gives him a grateful smile. “That will help a lot, brother.”
“So what are we going to do about this?” Dario asks.
I shake my head. “We have to find out who’s behind the attack.”
“It could be one of the cartels,” Angelo mentions.
I shake my head. “They’d send Steve’s body to us in pieces. This doesn’t feel like their work.”
“I’ll see what I can find out,” Dario offers. The man is a wizard when it comes to hacking into systems and finding shit.
“There’s not much we can do right now,” Damiano says as he rises to his feet. “Put everyone on high alert just in case this is the start of something.”
Angelo gets up as well. “I better get back to my wife.”
I give the men a chin lift before they leave, then turn my attention to Renzo and Dario.
When Dario just keeps staring at me, I glare at him. “Don’t even fucking ask.”
His tone is filled with laughter when he goes against my wish and asks, “So, are you fucking your PA?”
“Fuck off,” I mutter before downing the rest of the whiskey in the tumbler.
“I’d like to hear the answer as well,” Renzo joins in.
“No, I’m not.”
“You don’t attend any functions unless we force you to,” Dario says. “And you weren’t working late with her.”
“Christ, you’re like a dog with a fucking bone,” I growl. “I’m just spending time with her. It’s nothing romantic.”
Both men give me a skeptical look.
“You’re just spending time with her.” Dario shakes his head at me. “Suuuuure.”
“I’m just helping her deal with some shit,” I admit, so they’ll shut up about the matter.
“You’re helping your PA? Willingly?” Renzo asks, his voice thick with laughter. “Hell has officially frozen over.”
I set the tumbler down and climb to my feet. “I’m going home.”
“Aww, just as we’re getting to the interesting part,” Dario taunts me.
When I walk to the private elevator, they burst out laughing like a couple of fucking teenagers.
I step inside, and as the doors start to close, I give them the middle finger.
Fuckers.
My phone starts to vibrate, and I quickly pull it out of my pocket. Whenever I get a call at one in the morning, I know it’s not good news.
Seeing Brian’s name flashing on the screen, I answer, “I’ve already returned your car.”
“That’s not why I’m calling.”
The elevator doors open, and I walk to where Milo and Lorenzo are waiting by the G-Wagon.
“What’s up?”
“It’s Miss Blakely. She wants to know whether you can call her.”
No, I can’t. I spend half the day talking to her over the phone. She might recognize my voice.
“I’ll deal with it,” I mutter before hanging up. Looking at Milo, I say, “Let’s go home.”
I have a couple of burner phones at the house. I’ll send her text messages, that way, my identity will remain anonymous.
