I snorted because the only way that would happen was if he murdered his father. After the stunt he’d pulled trying to get to Summer, whom the Chicago Mafia had protected, I doubted his ability to infiltrate any rank close enough to the Amato boss to fulfill that goal.
“And as a bonus,” Ricco continued, ignoring my derision, “he’ll control everything about your future and get you out of my way.”
I bet.But I would not willingly tie myself to Guido. “I fail to see how that’ll help you, especially going against Dad’s decision about the politician. What do you think will happen to you when he finds out?” That hated sly grin spread across his face as I goaded him, making the cleft in his chin more apparent. I didn’t like his reaction, not one bit. “He’ll discover your hand in it. You can’t be that foolish to think Dad won’t know you were the one to betray him.”
“I’ve got it covered.” He glanced at his atrocious watch again. “This was a courtesy warning to give you time to mentally prepare for your wedding and what’ll follow.” He winked. “Guido will be here to collect you within the hour.”
After dropping that panic-inducing timeline on me, he left. The door clicked loudly as it closed, and the silence that followed his departure felt ominous. I had half an hour at most for the drug to wear off enough to get the hell out of there.
I moved any part of my body that hadn’t succumbed to numbness. I balled then relaxed my fists, curling my feet while turning this way and that to take in every inch of the room I was in. A dull pain throbbed at my hip, and I pulled down the waistband of my pants to peer at what was wrong. The sight of a bandage brought back how I’d fallen on the broken shards of the vase when Ricco had manhandled me. Tugging a corner of the tape back, I winced at the poor stich job.That’ll scar horribly.
There was nothing I could do but keep it covered and clean. I stuck the corner of tape back to my skin and pushed the injury from my mind to take stock of what was really important—how I was going to escape. And to do that, I needed to gather all the information of my surroundings that I could.
The walls were bare but for a small blurry scratch in a one-inch section of drywall where the doorjamb met the wall. Was it a name carved into the drywall or a symbol? It wouldn’t have been visible if the door was swung open. I couldn’t make out if it was significant.
I knew precisely where Ricco had brought me—away from the house and into a club owned by the family in the heart of Manhattan. Those particular rooms were deep in the bowels of the earth. The steel door led to a windowless room with only a narrow cot and a drain in the middle of the floor—one of the holding cells for when women were brought in before assimilating into the back rooms of the club as sex workers. I was repulsed.
At night, the hallways crawled with men who had access to the rooms—and the drugged women within. Some of the women would remain there until they died. The club was the perfect cover for the depraved customers who ventured down there.
I’d only snuck into that area once before, when my plan to shut down the sex trafficking ring had been in its infancy. I had to take action. I shook away the past, the concern for those locked behind these doors, and the fact that I was no help to them. Not today. And not like this.
Despite the fear of what could happen to me, I kept moving and gaining more control, the anesthetized sensation ebbing as the minutes ticked by. When I could sit up and fully move my arms, I searched for any weapons Ricco could have missed that I’d hidden under my clothes.
The knife sheathed to my arm was gone, and he’d found the ones strapped to my thigh, the gun, and the blade tethered to my forearm beneath the sleeve of my sweater. My breath came faster as panic kicked in, but I held it at bay. There were things he wouldn’t know.
I yanked the hem of my sweater up to access the underwire of my black lace bra. The wire was thicker than it should have been, but he wouldn’t have noticed that. I concentrated my efforts on two small slits on the inside where the curved metal began. I pried the small tool from within the hollowed-out support using my nails. With one from the right and then the left, I had tools to pick the lock.
I slipped off my shoes then used my nail to depress the hidden button near the base of the stiletto, and the encasement slid off to reveal a sharply pointed dagger in place of the heel. I clutched my meager weapons then pushed myself off the bed on shaky legs and tiptoed to the door, not knowing how much time had passed. My heart pounded, and my limbs shook. Before I attempted the lock, I peered at the mark scratched into the paint on the wall. Bile climbed my throat.I know what that is and who put it there.
It was a tiny chamomile flower, representing strength in adversity, the same one my mom used to draw or etch into anything she wanted me to pay close attention to. The same one was on the necklace I wore and the jewelry box where we used to leave each other notes and trinkets that I’d relocated into a getaway bag.
What the hell was she doing in a holding cell?
I rested my head on the door and took several deep breaths. I couldn’t afford to get distracted. The mystery of why the flower was there would have to wait another day when I was far away from this place.
Once I regulated my emotions, I carefully threaded the tools into the lock, working them silently, listening and feeling for the click that would free me. When it happened, I jumped to my feet with my stiletto in hand, the dangerous blade facing out. Yanking the door open as hard and fast as I could, I pushed through the threshold as the lone guard stationed in the hall turned, his hand on his gun.
He was taller than Ricco but not wider. My left hand curled around his forearm to slow his momentum. I couldn’t match his strength. I had one chance, and I was taking it.
I fell against him. He caught me. Using his confusion, I swung with all my might and sank the razor-sharp blade into his throat then tugged down. A gurgling sound escaped his lips. Using all my weight, I jerked him toward the room’s entrance. He crumpled to the floor as he clutched the gushing wound. Eyes wide, he tried to staunch the flow of blood that pulsed from where I’d stuck him in the carotid artery.
I didn’t feel bad. He worked for Ricco, and my best interests were not his concern.
As I stepped over him and kicked his weapon away, he weakly made a grab for my shoe. The bulk of his body kept the door firmly open. I wedged my other stiletto in the crack of the doorway, not caring that it cut into the leather. I needed that door to stay where it was.
His legs would be the easiest to move, so I grabbed both behind the knees, stepped fully into the room, and spun his body so there was enough space for the door to close. Like dead weight, his legs hit the ground when I released them. I retrieved the gun and tucked it into the back of my pants. Blood pooled beneath the guard as his life slowly ebbed.
I yanked the blade from his neck and then cleaned it on his clothes before slipping the outer casing back into place. My tools went back into the hollowed-out wires—I couldn’t take the chance of losing them in case I had to break out of somewhere else. I peeked around the door and listened. After a few seconds, when I didn’t hear any alarms, I carefully closed the door behind me.
If I could reach the exit, I knew I would make it. It wasn’t far. But time was working against me. I raced down the empty hallway with my shoes in hand, blocking the ominous doors and the women who might be behind them from my mind. The best way for me to help them was to get out of there.
As I skidded around a corner that led to the stairwell, deep voices filtered down the corridor. I was two floors below the exit to the alleyway. My heart jackhammered against my ribs as I shoved hard off the balls of my feet. When I grasped the push bar to access the stairwell, the distinctive sound of Guido’s laugh trilled much too close.
Fear crawled along my spine. I pushed the bar then slipped inside just as I caught movement from the corner of my eye. I eased the door shut with great care, trying not to make a sound, then gripped the railing to support my shaking legs as I fled up the two flights of stairs.
My ears strained for any sound of pursuit.Could I have gotten lucky enough that they hadn’t seen me?God, I hoped so. But even if I had, they would find the dead guard and the fact that I was missing. I had minutes—possibly seconds—until they sounded the alarm and dragged me back.
The cold metal beneath my hands taunted me with freedom as I pushed with all my might. I burst from the building, and arctic-cold air slapped me in the face. The icy pavement froze my feet. I allowed myself a few blinks to adjust to the brightness of the morning as I took a precious second to slip on my heels. Rough brick scratched my palm as I leaned against it. Once my feet were covered, I raced through the alley. At the end, I joined the crowds of intelligent people bundled in coats, hats, and scarves against the elements on the sidewalk.