Chapter Sixteen
Venezio
“Just a purse-snatch—” I started as I turned back toward the middle of the alley where I’d left Stephanie.
The plastic crates she’d been sitting on, though, were empty.
My stomach dropped out as my mind raced, thinking the bastard had rushed in, slapped a hand over her mouth, and carried her off.
But no.
No.
My mind flashed back to her face as I’d confessed to working behind her back. I could see the hurt in her eyes that she didn’t believe me about not getting involved with her for the job. Of course she didn’t.
“Steph!” I called, tucking my gun away as I fucking darted down the alley, knowing she couldn’t have gotten far.
Not in those heels.
But betrayal could really fuel a person.
I knew a thing or two about that in my past, even if I knew my lifestyle was primed for it. I knew how deep that shit cut. And I’d never been screwed over by someone I’d slept with.
I burst out of the mouth of the alley, where my jacket was now tossed to the ground.
“Fuck,” I hissed, my head on a swivel.
She wasn’t hard to find in her wine-red dress.
But even as I spotted her, she was sliding into the back of a cab.
Then she was off.
And the traffic was light, so there was no catching up with her.
But it didn’t matter.
I knew where she was going.
I just—
A flash at my side had my head whipping over.
Then there he was again.
Like a fucking scent hound.
If we were on my home turf, I would know where to lead him that would allow me to put an end to this once and for all.
But we were far from my stomping ground.
And this wasn’t the Golden Age of the mob, where you could get away with a shooting on a busy street.
There were too many security cameras now. Too many people ready to film you and post it online.
Even if I offed this guy, my chance of losing my own life to prison was high.
I had no choice but to try to outrun this guy, to lead him back to my neighborhood.
With that in mind, I turned and ran, trying to put as many people between us as quickly as possible, betting on him not opening fire without a clean shot. For the same reasons that I wouldn’t open fire on him: fear of consequences, of cameras, of prison.
Without the worry of putting Steph in danger, I took more chances. I wove in and out of traffic, ignoring the blare of horns, the curses shouted out of open windows.
Up and down several streets and alleys until I was so turned around that I had no idea where I was or where I was supposed to be going.
I paused in an alley, hands on my thighs, panting for breath.
I didn’t see him.
But that didn’t mean he wasn’t right behind me.
Regardless, I needed to stop and catch my damn breath. I hadn’t run that hard since I stole food as a kid to keep myself fed when the fridge and cabinets had been empty for days.
My lungs burned.
And I had a stitch in my side that felt like being stabbed over and over again.
As soon as I could catch my breath, though, I reached for my phone, scrolling through my contacts, and starting to make calls.
Lorenzo, Cosimo, Elian, Miko.
No one was answering.
And there was a rule in the Family about not leaving messages or sending texts with any information.
“Fuck,” I sighed when my next round of calls also went straight to voicemail.
Someone would call back eventually. They had to. People were just busy this time of year. And it was getting late. Some of them might have even gone to bed already.
I moved out of the alley, glancing side to side, scanning the faces for the guy.
One minute.
Two.
Five.
My stomach clenched.
What if he’d given up the chase not because he’d decided to just let me live, but because he noticed Steph was missing and figured she would be an easier target. And someone he could use to lure me out.
“Motherfucker,” I snarled loud enough to make a passing group of teens jump and one square up at me.
I moved past them and ran to check the closest subway map. It would almost certainly be faster than a cab, especially heading back into a more congested area like where Stephanie lived.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I ran up a couple more blocks to get to the right platform, then flew into the train by the skin of my damn teeth.
I paced in the train, hands opening and closing, feeling fucking powerless. I couldn’t get to her. I couldn’t…
I reached for my phone, cursing myself for not thinking of it sooner.
I stood there, heart pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat as I listened to the phone ring and ring and ring.
I heard her voice and felt my stomach twist until I realized it was her recorded outgoing message.
“Steph, get out of your apartment right now. Run somewhere. Anywhere. Just get the fuck out of there.”
I hung up, cursing as I watched my battery drain down to eight percent.
Great.
That was just fucking great.
I tucked it away and spent the rest of the ride pacing, my hands clenching and unclenching, looking like a fucking crazy person.
Women tucked their purses under their jackets. Men eyed me in their periphery, trying to decide if I was a threat or not.
When the subway pulled to a stop, I pushed past people to get to the door, then spilled out and tore up the steps and onto the street.
I was still twenty blocks from Steph’s apartment, so I sucked in a deep breath and took off at a dead run.
I wasn’t exactly a religious guy, but I was praying the whole damn run.
That she was smart enough not to go home.
That the guy hadn’t decided to target her, that he didn’t know where she lived, that he was just waiting for another chance to get to me.
“Come the fuck on,” I growled when I got to the door and ran my hand down all the buzzers for each apartment. “Come the fuck on.” Someone in the building had to be expecting company, a delivery, something.
I was about to break in the fucking door when I heard a buzz, then the click as the door unlocked.
Thank fuck.
I ripped open the door and rushed inside, heading for the stairs to save every second I could.
My legs ached as I pushed them harder.
I didn’t care.
It didn’t matter.
I’d run to her with a bleeding fucking bullet wound.
The door at the landing was heavy, but I pushed it with enough force to make it crack against the wall as I ran onto the floor.
Where my goddamn blood immediately ran cold.
Because Stephanie’s door was cracked.
I tried not to panic, to tell myself that maybe Andy and Sammy were just checking on her before going home, since she dipped out of the event without a word.
Trying to keep my mind from going to worst-case scenarios, I inched closer to the door, listening for the sound of voices.
There was nothing.
Except for the sounds of Christmas music coming from inside.
I reached for my gun, then pressed my arm into the door, pushing it open with a small groan.
What I saw inside had dread, cold and clammy, spreading through me.
Because I knew the scene of an altercation when I saw one.
An end table was overturned. A lamp had been knocked to the ground, the shade bent. A cup of tea had overturned and spilled across the coffee table. And, fuck, was that a streak of blood on the wall?
I moved forward, touching the tea, finding it still warm to the touch.
And, upon closer inspection, yeah, that was definitely blood. But it was impossible to know if it belonged to Steph or the bastard who’d broken into the sanctuary of her home.
Still, I stormed through her apartment, tearing open doors, looking for any signs of her.
There was a fresh towel on the towel holder. And folded pajamas on the counter.
Her heels were peeking out of the trash.
Like she’d been getting ready to take a hot shower.
But there was no sign of her.
“Fuck!” I snarled, standing dumbly in the center of her living room.
It was standing there that my phone buzzed in my pocket.
Thank fuck.
Help.
Backup.
Someone who could help me track Stephanie down and get her back safely.
But it was Steph’s name on my screen.
My gut cramped.
Because it would be a page right out of the kidnapper playbook to call from the victim’s phone.
I picked it up, ignoring the ice in my veins.
“Venezio!” Steph’s voice shrieked. My heart seized.
“Babe, put him—”
“Help,” she cut me off, her voice a choked cry.
“What’s going on?” I asked, hearing my phone ding, knowing the battery was draining.
“He came…”
“Where are you right now? I’m coming for you. Where are you?” I asked, running out of her apartment, slamming the door behind me.
“Central—”
My phone died.
“God damn it!” I yelled as I shoved my useless phone back into my pocket while I ran through the lobby of the apartment building.
I shoved open the front door, seeing fat snowflakes drifting wildly down from the sky.
Great.
Just what I needed.
Snow.
On top of everything else.
Thank God I’d rushed her on the phone.
Because while she didn’t get to fully tell me her location, there was only one Central that meant anything to someone in the city.
Central Park.
She was in Central Park.
While Central Park was over eight hundred acres, two and a half miles long and half a mile wide, I was back in my home turf.
I knew where she would have entered.
And she couldn’t have gotten very far.
I was going to find her.
And if it was the last fucking thing I did, I would get her safe.