68. Isabella
68
ISABELLA
“U gh, that looks like shit,” I mutter to myself before erasing the belt I just drew on a new bridal sketch I’ve been working on. I set my iPad down roughly, and the sound causes Liana to draw her attention up to me.
“Everything okay over there?” she asks.
I run my hands through my hair in a way that makes it seem like I’m about to pull it out in absolute frustration. “Not really,” I say before slamming my arms down on the desk in front of me. “I can’t stop thinking about what’s going on at Nicco’s apartment.”
“I know, I’m so sorry, Izzy. Look,” she says, setting her stylus down next to her iPad. “You don’t have to force yourself to work. We can talk about it if you think that’ll help.”
“I’m just worried, which I know is unreasonable because what is there to worry about? He’s going to have my brothers there, and they have backup stationed outside his apartment. He seems to think this is going to be an easy thing to do, but I don’t know. I feel like things are never that easy.”
“Sometimes, they’re not, you’re right, but I have to agree. They have the numbers in this situation. They’re going to be fine. I really believe that.”
“Yeah,” I mumble while picking at my Chinese food. Why did I even pick this stuff up on my way over here? There was no way I was going to be able to eat under the circumstances.
I throw the barely touched container of cashew chicken in the to-go bag it came in and walk over to Liana’s desk. Pointing at her empty beef and broccoli container that just has remnants of rice in it now, I say, “Are you done with that? I’m going to throw this in the dumpster out back so it doesn’t smell like stale Chinese food in here.”
“Oh, yes, thank you,” she says, throwing the carton into the bag I’m holding open for her.
As I head down the hall toward the back door, my mind drifts off to what’s happening right now at Nicco’s apartment.
Our apartment?
Our apartment.
That still sounds so weird to say, but it brings a smile to my face.
Pushing the door open, I prop it open with the door stop so I don’t get locked out.
The cold winter air is a stark contrast to the heat from inside, causing goose bumps to form along my skin.
I should’ve put my coat on.
I quickly scuttle over to the dumpster, unlock it, and throw the bag of food away, but before I’m able to lock it, the sound of gravel crunching behind me has me whipping around. My attention is drawn to a shadow that causes me to gasp.
“This couldn’t have worked out any better,” the man laughs out, and it only takes me a few seconds to realize who it is as he walks out of the dimly lit area against the wall of the building.
Shit.
“M-Mauricio, what are you doing here?” My heart rate starts to pick up.
“I’m shocked you came out here by yourself, Isabella. Where are your guards when you need them?”
I go to take a step back but am halted by the dumpster behind me.
Fuck. Think, Izzy, think.
“What’re you doing here?” I repeat, but I fear I already know the answer to that question.
“You and I are going to take a little ride,” he says while stalking toward me.
My stomach hollows out at his threatening tone. I dart my gaze to my left, trying to figure out my best chance of getting out of here since he’s blocking the door back into the building.
“ Don’t even think about it,” he says before pulling a gun on me, which causes me to freeze.
Every muscle in my body locks up. My breath catches in my throat, and I would think my heart stopped beating if I couldn’t hear it pulsing in my ears.
I’ve never had a gun pulled on me before, and with the crazed look in Mauricio’s eyes, if I try and make a run for it, he will shoot me.
He slithers his way up to me, closing the distance between us, and puts the barrel of the gun to the center of my chest. The smell of cigarettes assaults my nostrils, nearly making me choke.
“Good choice, Isabella. I really didn’t want to have to explain to my boss and your little boyfriend that I had to kill you before the fun even started.”
My heart sinks at his grimy words. I want to scream for help. I want to fight back. But with Mauricio’s finger on the trigger, I need to be smart about this.
“Now move,” he says. “My car’s over there.”
I wince when he rams the barrel of the gun into my chest, and reluctantly turn toward his vehicle.
Think, Izzy, think. How are you going to get out of this?
But instead of trying to figure out an escape route, my mind is trapped with the possibilities of what’s about to happen. What the hell do Mauricio and his dad have in store for Nicco and me?