65. -64-
Nina
At two am, I decided it was time to return.
Lucas patiently listened to me, objected to my words, and won almost every exchange because he naturally knew what to say to make everything look easy.
But my situation truly wasn’t easy. Life was at stake.
Not in the usual life-or-death way, but anyway.
Dorian and his girl deserved the best. Yet I couldn’t offer them more than to try not to fuck up. That was painfully little.
“Are you sure driving during the storm is a good idea?” Lucas peeked behind the curtain when another lightning bolt cut through the dark sky.
“I love rain, remember?” I smiled, stealing a fistful of gummy bears from a bowl he tried to hide behind the speaker.
“I’m not so sure about the road loving it, though.” He grimaced as I stuffed my mouth and tapped the code onto the keypad to unlock the front door. “Drive safe and text me when you reach the house.”
“Yes, Daaad,” I drawled, kissing his cheek. “And thank you for tonight.”
“That’s what best friends are for, right?” He winked at me, his gaze following me outside the old building. I waved at him before pulling my jacket over my head and running to the car.
“Fuck, it’s cold.” I shook my hands to get the water off and pushed the ignition button.
The first notes of Beethoven filled the car, pulling an involuntary smile from me.
Dorian was a huge fan. I heard him playing the “Fifth Symphony” when he had no idea I was stalking him, and it was a magnificent performance.
Tapping my fingers against the steering wheel, mimicking playing “Für Elise”, I barely noticed a car following me.
But when I took a sharp turn at the last moment, because I was so engrossed in memories of playing the piece years ago, and the black SUV did the same, I froze.
Instinctively, my brain shifted focus from music to the vehicle in the rearview mirror.
Sheets of rain lashed the windshield as I accelerated, and the car sped behind me. I took a few sharp turns left and right, but I couldn’t shake it off. It was glued to my back. The words my grandpa drilled into me resurfaced while the tires squealed.
If you can’t run away, find a crowded place.
But fuck, at two in the morning, twenty minutes from Manhattan, it wasn’t easy. My eyes searched desperately for lights. A gas station. A diner. Anything. However, there was nothing but rain, trees, and an empty road.
My fingers tightened around the steering wheel, my stomach turning to knots. This surely wasn’t how I imagined my night would go.
“Okay,” I whispered, checking the mirror for the tenth time in less than thirty seconds. “Let’s play.”
The Jaguar roared when I buried my foot into the accelerator. Water sprayed behind me as I cut through two yellow lights and took another unnecessary turn. Those sharp moves answered my questions quickly. I was followed by professionals. No panic in their driving. They made no reckless moves.
Trying to calm my erratic breathing, I reached for my phone. No signal.
“What the fuck?”
The screen blinked. No service.
Cold settled in my bones. They were using a jammer.
Fuck!
I took the next intersection far too fast, tires squealing over soaked asphalt. The Jaguar responded beautifully, the distance between me and the SUV growing for a few precious seconds. I exhaled heavily, looking into every mirror, but they were gone, until…
The headlights appeared in front of me. Another SUV. It slowly rolled across both lanes.
“Seriously?” I whined, slamming the brakes. ABS shuddered beneath my foot as the Jaguar came to a violent stop only yards from the black vehicle, and the blinding headlights emerged behind me again. I was boxed in.
The doors opened almost in unison. Six men stepped into the rain, their dark jackets soaking through within seconds. None of them hurried. None of them looked nervous.
Panic clawed at my insides as I threw the car into reverse. A third vehicle slid out from a narrow side road and blocked my escape before I moved more than a few feet.
“Shit,” I cursed, glancing at the men outside.
The driver’s door jerked, but it was locked.
A fist smashed the window. Not hard enough to shatter it, just enough to make me look.
The man smiled wickedly, rain dripping from his forehead into his eyes as he pointed toward the passenger side.
I looked, and my blood froze. Another stood there with a handgun, aiming directly at me.
In a split second, the passenger window exploded inward, and I instinctively covered my head. An arm shot through the broken glass, unlocked the door, and another man yanked it open.
With a snarl, I drove my elbow into his jaw. He cursed, but managed to grab my wrist.
“Get off me!” I yelled, twisting violently. My long nails sank into the soft flesh, drawing blood across someone’s face. A deep grunt and a curse echoed around me, and a punch landed in my side, momentarily stealing my breath.
“Boss said no bruises!” someone shouted.
“I’m trying!”
Strong hands wrapped around my waist and shoulders, caging me. I bit the nearest arm. Hard. The man screamed like a pussy, jerking away while another immediately replaced him.
“Jesus Christ!” he roared, slapping me across the face.
“I said no fucking bruises!”
They dragged me out, rain drenching me instantly. My feet dug into the wet asphalt, battling for every inch. My heart hammered in my chest, pumped with adrenaline as I fought with all my might.
“You’ll need more than six!” I shouted, driving the heel of my boot into someone’s knee. He folded with a groan, and I laughed maniacally. Still, when they pulled a black hood over my head, the fun was over. Darkness swallowed everything.
I kept kicking and clawing, hearing men swear in Italian.
“She’s even worse than they said!”
A pair of rough hands forced mine behind my back, and plastic restraints bit into my wrists. My stomach flipped when I was lifted off the ground and thrown on a leather seat.
The door slammed, and the engine started before I fully landed. My training kicked in. Grandpa didn’t teach me only how to fight. He taught me how to survive after losing. I counted every turn, every acceleration, every stop, my head pounding from the concentration.
This couldn’t be right.
As the SUV rolled to a stop and the door opened, calloused, large hands pulled me out.
The hood covering my head disappeared. I blinked, forcing my eyes to adjust more quickly.
Warm lights illuminated the familiar stone driveway, the Valentino estate standing before me exactly as I remembered it. Proud and intimidating.
“Why here?” I asked the man who squeezed my arm and dragged me inside. “No one has lived in this museum since Grandpa died.”
“No one will look for you here then, right?” He smirked, pushing me past the front door.
My heart dropped. Just when I thought this day couldn’t get any worse, my father decided to prove me wrong. But what the fuck are you planning, Dad?