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“They’re coming for me,” I say again, but my voice comes out shaky.
“Yeah, yeah,” the mean one says, pulling the sack back over my head.
I hadn’t had time to memorize my surroundings, but I appear to be in a warehouse of some kind. The bright lights overhead are visible even through the sack on my head.
They’ve brought me here to kill me, I think, and my breath starts to come short all over again.
All I can do is hope that Marta comes through.
“Vincenzo won’t like this,” the nicer guy says, and my breath catches in my throat.
Vincenzo is a creep and I know what he’s going to want to do to me.
“Dante’s going to kill him,” the nicer guy mutters, and I hear the other guy scoff.
“He’ll take care of Dante just like he took care of his parents.”
My eyes pop open inside the burlap sack. That means that Vincenzo had Dante’s parents killed. I would have never expected the Gallos, a low-level famiglia, to make that kind of move. They must want the Ricci territory, that’s the only explanation.
It seems like I’ve been here for days, although I know it’s probably only been a few hours. I’m thirsty and I wiggle around, calling out to the men.
“I need water!”
“You don’t needshit, princess,” the mean one says. “The boss will be here to pick you up any minute.”
Panic tightens my throat again. I know that Vincenzo is going to hurt me, and hurt me badly.
Please, Marta, I think.
I have no way of telling time but in a bit, my mouth is so dry I can barely make saliva. I wiggle and try to get loose from the ties, but it’s not enough. They’re too tight.
I’m starting to lose hope.
A door bangs against a wall. Fuck, is that Vincenzo coming for me?
I start panicking and then start the gunshots.
I scream and duck my head, thinking of the first time I was involved in a shootout. Dante had come to save me then, and I hope against hope that it’s him, now. Please, please, please be Dante.
I can’t wait to see him.
That is, if I survive the shootout.
15
DANTE
I’m sleeping peacefully when the phone buzzing on the bedside table wakes me up. I groan and start to throw it across the room, but given what happened last night, I need to be on guard.
I pick it up instead of destroying it like I want to.
“What?” I bark.
“Dante, it’s Marta,” Mia’s friend says, speaking too quickly. “I think someone’s taken her.”
I bolt upright in bed. “What? Where? She’s here,” I say, getting up and walking downstairs to find her. She’s not on the couch, and her purse is gone. Fuck.
“She told me she was walking to the coffee shop and some guy was sniffing around her.”
