Chapter 6
RAISA
Ireached the busier street that would lead back to the hotel. That was when I realized I’d left my key fob clipped to my other uniform.
Dammit.
I cringed, slowing my steps as I moved out of the faster stream of pedestrians on the sidewalk.
Dammit!
How could I have been so stupid?
I didn’t have an abundance of time to go home and change on this break to start with. Now, because I was stuck in my head and riddled with paranoia about someone watching me, I’d forgotten the one thing I had to have just to get back into the hotel and reach the basement level.
Fuck!
I paused, slowing down until I stopped completely.
Torn with indecision over what to do, I gave that paranoia a chance to creep back in and consume me.
I wanted to get back to work, to be hiding in the hot, steamy hellhole that was the laundry room.
No one could reach me there. But I had to run home to grab that fob just to get into that safe place.
The longer I delayed on the sidewalk, the more I hated to have to leave the security of being in broad daylight among others.
Witnesses would be on my side if someone attacked me.
Others, like innocent bystanders, would step in if I were in danger at all.
I wanted to be able to count on the human decency of civilization, the way the rest of the world worked outside the Mafia world I’d been raised in.
Just go. Hurry. Get the key fob and get back to work. Fear of missing out on clockable work time bothered me too. Money was too tight to lose a minute of pay or be docked for being tardy after a break.
I sucked in a deep, nervous breath, then turned to go against the grain of pedestrian traffic. Weaving around others, I kept my head down to avoid making eye contact. I tried not to bump into anyone, lest they try to plant a tracker on me or pin me with anything I didn’t want to be near me.
But it didn’t matter how much I relied on my acquired street smarts. Nothing would change the fact that as I retraced my steps to hurry back home, someone was tailing me. Someone was watching me.
Stalking me.
A flash of a glimpse in a storefront window showed me the reflection behind me. And it was all I needed as proof that it had never been a figment of my imagination. It was real. Not paranoia. This time, I was right.
That man was back. The suited man who’d dashed through my neighbor’s yard was near again. Too near.
He tailed me through the streets, never losing me and maintaining a consistent number of yards behind me.
I dodged and wove my way past obstacles like people, parked cars, and carts selling goods, but it didn’t stop him from sticking to me.
Without staring directly at me, he showed how good he was, keeping me in sight while not being obvious about it.
I gulped, forcing a harsh swallow with my dry mouth and throat. I was parched, desperate for a drink of water. Something. Anything. Because this dizziness nauseated me as panic sank into the marrow of my bones.
Picking up the pace, I jogged to cut down an alley. I prayed I could reach the other side of a row of buildings and he might miss me.
Only once I was near my neighborhood again did I risk looking over my shoulder. I ran as I peeked, checking frantically that no one was following me.
He was gone. For now.
The man wasn’t behind me. Not tailing me steadily. Not rushing to close the distance between us. His black suit was nowhere in sight.
But he’s still there.
He’s still out here, ready to get me.
This wasn’t a new delusion or trick of the eye. I had to stay guarded no matter what.
The rest of my sprint back to my house was a blur of worry and anxiety. Adrenaline forced my arms to pump faster and my legs to stride longer. Despite the heat and how this panic was making me sweat through this uniform I’d just changed into, I couldn’t dare to slow for a single second.
I slammed against the front door, relieved I’d made it at last. Between the lost time that I needed to get back to the hotel on time and the worry that someone would snatch me away or shoot me on the sidewalk, I knew it was time to call for a ride out of here.
I never splurged like that. Money was too tight.
But for the sake of reaching my workplace one more time to get my last paycheck—which was cash given to me off the records, like I asked—before getting Lev out of here, I would need to hunker down in a car to get back there.
My fingers shook and trembled as I fit my key to the lock. It didn’t matter how I tried to steady myself, using both hands to accurately jam the key into the hole, I dropped it again.
Lowering in a quick stoop, I blinked at the dizziness of ducking my head too low, too soon. But as I stood back up again, keys in hand, I spotted the man running toward the house.
Fuck! No!
He’d found me. He’d caught up. And it was my mistake now. Of course, he’d come back here. He’d tracked me here once so it wasn’t odd that he’d try his luck again. He knew where to reach me.
Giving up on the key in this door, I curled my fingers around them and held on tight. Then I plastered myself to the exterior wall of the house and scooted back in the thin gap between the bushes and the rough surface of terra cotta.
Scrapes lined my arms. Tugs of my flesh showed how I forced myself through the narrow space. But I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. Wedging in there, I held my breath and forced myself to keep going. If this was my only way to hide, I’d take it.
Sliding along the perimeter of the small house, I hurried to turn around the corner and rush toward the back door.
Through the thick branches of needles of the evergreens, I couldn’t see if the man was tracking my movement.
If I couldn’t see him, he couldn’t see me.
Right? I wanted to hope. I’d pray. I’d beg any god that was listening to spare my life so I could continue to protect my precious son.
Once I reached the back door, I checked that the man wasn’t around. No one stood in the back. Only the breeze of the wind whistling through the tall weeds in the back perimeter of the property sounded.
Okay. Good. So far, so good.
Inching further, I stretched my arm out to see if I could grab the handle for the other door. It was locked, but I worked my shaky fingers out until I shoved the metal in. It fit. I strained my wrist to turn the knob. It gave way and I scurried inside.
I shut it and locked it, gasping when I dared to breathe again.
The suited man jogged through the backyard, clearly scoping out the property for me. But he didn’t try to get in.
It didn’t matter yet if he did.
Someone else was already in here.
I heard one press of a shoe on the floor behind me, and that was all the warning I had.
Once more holding in my breath, I spun with my keys between my fingers to strike out at the other guy. I hadn’t counted on more than one watching me. Now that I was aware, every defensive instinct came to full force.
Also dressed in a suit, this other man flung out to backhand me.
He moved as a blur, too quick for me to track closely.
I was fortunate that my instincts never faded.
I was always on and always listening and looking for trouble.
But right now, as I grabbed a lamp off a table to swing at him again, I was luckier yet for having some training in fighting back.
Combat wasn’t my strength, but I wasn’t a na?ve coward.
I would never be a coward when it came to saving myself and my son.
He growled, yelling loudly in a sound more animalistic than human as I kicked and got him between his legs. Just like that, all through the living room, we fought and wrestled.
The loud clang of metal on the floor alerted me to the fact he’d lost hold of his gun.
But I couldn’t be sure he wasn’t still armed.
No matter how much bigger and taller he was, I was fighting with more than just the need to harm me for the sake of a boss’s orders to take out a hit or kidnap.
I fought with the vengeance of a protective mother who’d stop at nothing to care for her son.
Furniture was soon splintered and cracked in a broken mess as we fought in my home. Glass lay scattered on the floor. Dishes fell from shelves. The entire area was in disarray, a total scene of destruction, but still, I didn’t stop.
He hit me, and I kicked him. Then vice versa. He tried to grab me and choke me, and I dodged him and slammed him into the walls.
We weren’t quiet about it, but in the end of him trying to end my life, I managed to get the upper hand. Wrapping a length of a fallen piece of curtains around his neck, I focused on strangling him until he ceased moving.
Ragged from the exertion of fighting, then killing him, I let him drop to the floor. He slumped onto the mess, and I almost went down with him.
I couldn’t catch my breath. I couldn’t slow my heart. So tired and worn out, I hunched over with my hands on my knees, willing my body not to collapse. Not yet. Not here. Not—
The front door opened, startling me as Eliot rushed in. That had to have been how this man got in, breaking in that way. But now, it was my alarmed and wide-eyed neighbor who gaped at the scene. “Mrs. Peterson? Are you all right? I heard this ruckus and—”
I gritted my teeth, knowing I was still in danger.
He was too. That other suit was out there.
As I lunged forward to push Eliot out of the house, the man revealed himself as he rushed in behind my neighbor.
The blast of his gun going off scared Eliot.
He cursed, ducking down and seeming ready to take me with him.
But I couldn’t lose that time. I couldn’t lose this edge.
Operating with an offensive energy was the only way I could bank on using this element of surprise on these men.
While Eliot dropped, I spun around him and charged into my stalker.
He fired his gun again, likely as a reflex instead of aiming it, but it didn’t matter.
In the frenzy of action, Eliot slipped and knocked his head on the edge of a table.
Then the intruder fell back too, perhaps not counting on me to barrel into him like that.
After a slight scuffle, I punched and struck the man until I got his gun.
He withdrew another as his lips bled. Heaving for air as he lay on the floor from my attack, he aimed his gun at Eliot, who was still unconscious but breathing.
“Don’t,” he warned, taking the safety off.
I didn’t flinch. No longer afraid of danger reaching me, I narrowed my eyes at him and stuck with this ride of violence. Danger was here. Right here. It was pointless to fear the unknown now. My nightmare was realized and the time to do something about it was here. All I could do was act.
I didn’t hesitate, shooting the man between his legs. He cried out, screaming at the pain, but I didn’t wait. He dropped his gun to put his hands on his wound. As I pressed my foot down on where I’d shot him, he thrust his hands there to push my shoe off.
“You won’t win, you bitch.”
Win? I was instantly confused at his choice of words. I wasn’t fighting or playing any fucking game at all. I wasn’t even in his world, whoever the hell he worked for, to be a contender to win or lose anything.
Lowering to press the end of the gun’s barrel to his temple, I grabbed his tie and forced him to look at me.
This place was a mess. Blood marred my skin.
I was bruised and exhausted. But it wasn’t like I’d be staying here to deal with it.
Getting up close and gritty to sneer at this asshole, I demanded an answer.
“Who sent you?”
“Fuck y—”
I smacked him with the gun and asked again.
“Go to—”
Once more, I hit him with the gun. He’d bleed out too soon with where I’d shot him. I needed answers now.
“Tell me.” I pushed the tip of the gun back near whatever remained of his balls.
“The Riveras,” he got out between labored breaths.
Riveras? I furrowed my brow, placing the name. The Italians? What the hell?
“I’ve come to represent a new faction of the Rivera Family,” he clarified.
“Why?” I barked out, confused why the Italian Mafia would have any interest in me, and at this time. Or ever. My father never worked with any Italian crime families.
“I was instructed to capture you since you are a weak link to the Dubinin Dynasty.”
I blinked. Once. That was different. It wasn’t shocking that the Italians would want a piece of what Luka Dubinin had, but it didn’t add up for them to see me as a connection to them.
“I’m not.”
It was stupid to waste the time and breath to tell this dead man that. He would be dead before I left this house.
“I’m not a weak link to any Dubinin,” I repeated, mostly just to confirm it verbally to myself.
I wasn’t. I’d cut ties with any Dubinin since the day Ivan left me.
But my son was. He was a link to the Dubinins, sharing their blood.
Please, God no.
As the man closed his eyes, fading away as too much blood leaked from him, I had to admit that my worst fear was coming true.
This man was sent here to capture me, assuming I was a link to the Dubinins, but it was my son who would be wanted in that regard.
They know. Someone knows.
The second anyone in the world found out that Lev was Ivan’s son, there would be no semblance of safety in the world. A hidden, missing half-heir to someone in the powerful organization that Luka Dubinin mastered and ruled would be a huge discovery.
It would be an exploitation like no other.
I released the dead man, staring at him and damning him for coming to disturb this peace.
No peace would ever be waiting for me. Not real peace. Not a real and true sense of calm and security.
We have to go.
We have to leave now.
My neighbor would have to head home and figure this out the best he could. He would live, and his perfect little family would forever wonder why their mysterious neighbors were never heard of or seen in this area again.
But Lev and I had to leave.
Now.
And the only place I could think of to run to was the very last location I ever wanted to see again.
It was time to go home. As much as I hated the idea of going back to New York, it was time for me to go home and seek help from the man who should’ve been with us all along.
Ivan Dubinin might’ve wanted to cut ties with me once, but it was far past time for me to demand his assistance in keeping our son safe. If Lev was endangered because of his family, then he’d damn well have to own up and do the right thing now, no matter how messy our past was.