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I stand and pick my way back toward the road. I do so as quietly as possible to hear if I’m being followed or if anyone is near me. The forest is shadier than it was. It must be moving into late afternoon because the shadows are deepening. I don’t even know how long I’ve been out here or how far into the woods I ran.
Suddenly, this doesn’t seem like such a great idea, but, I reassure myself, I am still alive. No thanks to my so-called guards.
I reach into my purse and search, finding the bottle of water I’d taken from the hotel. I open it and quench my thirst. It’s warm, a little too warm, and I’ve worked up a sweat and thirst from running.
Soon my water is finished, and I regret downing it all. My thoughts turn to Frankie. I keep an eye on my phone to see if I get a signal again, so I can try to call him and let him know I’m okay. So I can make sure he’s okay.
I swear if they have done anything to him, they can stop worrying about Alessandro because I will be after them, starting with my ex—Dave.
My legs are getting tired, and my muscles ache. I really need to start running again and get into shape if I’m going to be a crime boss's wife. I feel like I’m going to run for my life more than once.
I see red and blue flashing lights up ahead, and that spurs me on, the siren is off, but I can see police cars through the trees. I move quickly, seeing an ambulance as well. I wonder briefly who got shot.
Although, I don’t think I care. I just want to get back to Frankie.
Chapter 16 - Frankie
As the car pulls up in front of the house, I get out and wince. I pat myself down and find the source of the injury. A bullet has grazed my arm. Okay, it’s more than a graze. I’ve been shot, but I’m more worried about Amelia. I’m trying to call her, but there’s no answer from her or Johnny and Evander.
I pace up and down Alessandro’s driveway as I try to connect the call, but it’s no use. She’s not in range, or something worse has happened, something I don’t even want to consider.
“Get yourself checked out,” Alessandro says, coming down the stairs to see me. “And get inside. It isn’t safe outside.”
I follow him back inside, Joel following behind me, and Alessandro summons the nurse he keeps at his home for our mother.
“He might need stitches,” he tells the nurse.
“Did Amelia’s bus arrive on time?” I ask, we’d been held up making sure we didn’t get followed again, but it should have arrived at midday, half an hour ago.
“No, it hasn’t, but I’ve sent men out to scout where it is,” Alessandro assures me. “We can only wait.”
I’m fidgety as the nurse sews me up, never once giving away how painful it is to have the needle and thread stitch my skin back together. Once she’s done with the final stitch, she goes off, and Alessandro brings me a glass of whiskey. “That should dull the pain.”
“I’m not in pain,” I say, taking the whiskey. “Have they called yet? Have they found the bus?”
“Calm down, Frankie,” my brother says seriously. “They will find it. It can’t just go missing.”
“With the Catalan’s it can,” I point out, standing and going to the window.
Alessandro sits behind his desk, leaning back in his chair. “You care a lot about Amelia. Does she know?”
“I made a promise to keep her safe,” I say. I refuse to admit my true feelings, even to my brother, though I know he doesn’t believe me.
“Yes, you did. You have done so. I’m sure she’s fine, Frankie.” He’s trying to reassure me, but I can’t stop worrying about her. Surely, they’d be within range of a cell tower by now, able to take or make calls.
My phone rings, and I glance at it. The caller ID says New York Police, and my blood runs cold. I pray it’s a business call. “Hello?” I answer.
“Frankie?” Amelia’s voice comes over the line. She sounds relieved, and therefore, I feel relieved.
“Amelia, are you okay?” I ask quickly. “Why are you with the police?”
“The bus broke down, and there was shooting, but I got away. I don’t know where your men are.” I feel my temper rising, but I let her continue. “I was brought to the NYPD with the others. Can you come to get me?”
“Which precinct are you at?” I ask her, looking at Alessandro and downing my whiskey.
“Fifty-fourth street,” she says, “Midtown North,” she adds.
“Okay, I’ll be about ten minutes but sit tight and don’t leave with anyone else. I’m coming personally,” I explain. I hang up and walk toward the door.
