Chapter 2
I frown as I reach the main floor of the parking garage and slip through the wide double doors that I assume will take me to the hospital entrance. Lost his wallet, my ass. He is leaving. There is no doubt in my mind. Sneaking out to avoid the mayhem and police while I am about to be stuck playing fifty questions with some of Bama’s finest—something I really don’t need to be doing.
The bastard.
“Miss. Miss, are you okay?”
I swing my gaze toward a nurse rushing my way. Concern and terror are prominent in her dark blue eyes, but there is also determination. As if she is going to help me, no matter what. It crosses my mind that she is a true first responder, one who cares and will jump into hell for others without thinking of the consequences to herself.
Suddenly, I feel a hand close over my bicep, halting my steps forward. I stiffen when a microphone is shoved into my face, and I can hear the excitement in the man’s voice when he says, “Ma’am, were you out with the others? Did you see what happened? Can you tell us?”
Shit. This isn’t good. I may have changed my name, but everything else about me is pretty much the same as it was four years ago. I still have thick, wavy black hair that I refuse to color, wide, dark brown eyes because there is no way I am wearing contacts, and light, olive-colored skin. Same height, a few more curves, similar clothing style.
I really do not want to have my image splashed all over the news networks. Not that it matters if my family sees me. They all know exactly where I am, even if I made the decision to distance myself from them and their not-so-ethical business practices. The problem is, their enemies have no idea that I now live just a seventeen-hour drive down the coast. I disappeared a long time ago, but even though I’ve been out of that life for years now, I am still the daughter of the head of the notorious Italian crime famiglia in New York.
All it will take is one look, one person to recognize me as the mafia princess I was born to be, and Alabama will be flooded with those enemies, each vying to be the one to either kidnap or kill Lorenzo Allegrini’s only child.
“How many gunmen were there? Did you see if there were any casualties?”
“Please, come with me so I can check your injury,” the kind nurse says, interrupting the reporter as she easily slides my arm from the man’s fingers and quickly guides me away and into an open triage room, shutting the door behind us. “Have a seat on the bed so I can get a look at that cut.”
My hand goes to my cheek and comes away with dark red blood staining my fingertips. I’d almost forgotten about it, the pain being minimal before and my mind on other things—like guns and sex.
“I’m fine,” I say absently, my mind going back to the sounds of gunshots and screams of the other volunteers. I wonder if my co-workers made it. “It’s just a scratch. You need to help the others.”
“Ma’am, do you have anyone we can call for you?”
Goliath. It’s the only name that comes to mind as I wipe my fingers on my black leggings. Of course, that’s his road name. I have no idea what his real name is. Or even what the name of his MC is. The only thing I really know is the size of his dick. That, I was up close and personal with.
I shake my head. “No…”
Before I can say more, there is a sharp knock on the door, and then it’s shoved open, and a large cop with some of the widest shoulders I’ve ever seen is stalking into the room. He is huge, but not as big as the man I just spent the best fifteen minutes of my life with in the back of an old truck, with just a camper shell shielding us from view while fiery hell rained down around the hospital courtyard.
“I need to take your statement,” he says abruptly. His face is set in what I assume is a permanent scowl, and I shiver at the distrusting, angry look in his gaze.
I tilt my head to the side, letting my eyes trail over him to where his name and rank are displayed on his uniform. “Of course, Officer Templeton.”
“Your name?”
“Alex Bianchi.”
“Alex?” His voice is scornful, a slight sneer on his lips.
“Yes, Alex. You have a problem with that?” Once again, my damn New York accent is slipping out, but the officer’s attitude is pissing me off, and we haven’t even been talking for a full minute yet. When he just stares at me, one eyebrow cocked, I sigh deeply. “My name is Alessandra Bianchi.”
“Age?”
How was that relevant to the conversation? “Twenty-two.”
“Address?”
I give it to him and wait for the next question. This isn’t the first time I’ve been interviewed by law enforcement. I was trained by my Uncle Carlo in not only how to act in situations like this, but also how to reply to any and all questions if taken down to the precinct back home. But for some reason, this guy is rubbing me the wrong way. I don’t want to behave like I know I should, and I have a bad feeling my sassy side is about to come out to play.
“And what are you doing here at the hospital today, Ms. Bianchi?”
Was he for real? What did he think I was doing here? Although I was dressed in what could be considered normal clothes while doing my best to impersonate an elf, the green hat Goliath was going to give me was lost somewhere in the rush to get out of the range of fire, and I had on black boots instead of a pair of those cute slipper-shoes with bells on them that you see the elves in malls wearing. Still, I could pass as an elf. Maybe.
“I thought I would take a stroll through the courtyard, chat with all the sexy Santas, and see if one wanted to take me back to the North Pole with him.” Yes, I may be getting snarky, but they could have sent someone a little less assholish to do these interviews instead of Mr. Personality. He rakes his gaze over me, and I can’t help myself. “Like what you see? Ya know, I’m only this cute a couple of months out of the year. Christmas brings it out in me.”
“Are you always such a smartass?” he growls darkly.
I shrug, suddenly exhausted and tired of the games. I just want to go home. “I work for a local law firm and was voluntold to offer my services as an elf to help with the children and their visits with Santa.”
“Voluntold?”
“Volunteer, voluntold. Same difference.”
My cheek is really starting to hurt now, and my head is throbbing. The nurse has been cleaning my cut as we talk, and I hope she’s about done so I can leave.
“What time did you get here?”
“I was running a bit behind,” I admit, as I watch the nurse throw away the gauze she used to wipe the blood from my skin. “I was only here for about five minutes or so before the van pulled up.”
“Van? Did you get a good look at it?”
Of course, I did. I was trained to take in the smallest of details, but he didn’t need to know that.
“It was white. There was a blue logo on the side for a medical supply company—Jepsen, I believe.”
“What happened after that?”
Well, officer, they kindly introduced themselves before opening fire on several innocent individuals. Thank God the children weren’t out there yet.
“I saw three people, but they were wearing masks. The driver, the passenger, and the one who opened the side door.”
“Then what happened, Ms. Bianchi?”
We had a few drinks that led to some kissing and a wild orgy.
“They started shooting, and I ran, Officer. I’m sorry, I didn’t stick around to get more details for you. I was scared, and I ran.”
“Where did you go?”
“Into the parking garage.”
“Alone?”
“Yes.”
I don’t have to think twice about telling the lie. I don’t know it for a fact, but something is telling me there is a reason Goliath ghosted me. And that same something is strongly saying to keep my mouth shut about all things to do with the gorgeous biker.
“Where did you hide?”
No way in hell was I telling him about our little love nest and what took place in it.
“It was a parking garage. I was by vehicles.”
“So, you ran into the garage and hid by some vehicles but have no idea what vehicles?”
I feel a slow grin turn up the corners of my mouth as I reply, “Well, one of them did look a lot like Santa’s sleigh, but I didn’t see his reindeer.”
“Do you think this is a joke, Ms. Bianchi? When I left the courtyard to come in here, the body count was up to twelve. It was a mass shooting. The death toll is higher than we’ve seen in a while. What part of this is funny to you?”
I had enough. I was done. The officer was being a condescending prick for no reason. I was just as innocent as all of the other people who were fired at; I just happened to be alive. Maybe that was his problem with me. I survived when others didn’t.
Rising slowly, I smile over at the sweet nurse who stayed in the room with me even after she finished cleaning and bandaging my cut. She will never know how much that means to me. “I appreciate everything you did for me today,” I glance down at her badge, “Nurse Reynolds. You have been wonderful.”
“We are not finished here.”
“You have my statement, Officer Templeton.” There is no reason for him to keep me here. I may not be an attorney yet, but I do know my rights. Resisting the urge to reach out and nut-punch the cop, I walk to the door and open it. Glancing back, I level a hard stare at him. “No part of what happened out there today is funny. None of it. People were hurt. Several died. But instead of being out there trying to find the killers, you are in here interrogating me. An innocent victim. There’s something about me you don’t like. I have no idea what it is, but you latched onto it and became an overbearing jerk the moment you entered the room. Now, I’m going home because even though you seem to think I don’t have a heart, I do, and it is breaking for the families of the fallen today. If you need anything else, have someone call me. Anybody but you.”
I leave before he can say another word, the nurse on my heels.
The next morning, I wake to the sound of someone pounding on my door. Groaning, I slide from bed and grab my robe from the back of a chair. My head is throbbing, and my face is sore. I glance longingly back at my bed before sighing and leaving my bedroom to go find out who is about to remove my door from its hinges with their fist.
Yanking it open, I freeze as I stare up into the angry eyes of someone I haven’t seen since I left New York so long ago. Eyes that are exactly like mine. “Papá.”
I can’t hold back the tears. I miss my family so much. To everyone else, Lorenzo Allegrini is the devil. To me, he is my papá. My hero, my protector, my world. There are so many times I’ve rethought my decision to leave the famiglia , but I just can’t condone what the mafia stands for. Especially not when I am going to school to become an attorney.
“You are coming home, figlia .”
“Papá.”
“No!” His voice thunders throughout the room, and I cringe as I worry about him waking people in the surrounding apartments. “You will pack your bags right now. You are coming home. I will get you an internship at the attorney’s office where your cousin, Enzo, works. You can go to college there. You will move back in with me and your mamá, where you will be safe!”
There is fear in his eyes, worry lines between his brows. I glance over at the clock on the living room wall to see how early it is and realize he must have seen what happened on the news late last night. It is obvious he’s gotten no sleep. I put my phone on silent before I went to bed, and I’m afraid when I look at it, it will be filled with missed calls and texts.
He came for me. When I thought I had no one, that I was going to have to deal with everything all on my own, my papá hopped on his jet in the middle of the night and came for me.
Stepping forward, I slide my arms around his waist and lay my head on his chest. Then, I let the tears fall that I’ve been holding back since the incident the day before. As much as I want to be independent, I need my father’s strength right now. I don’t want to be alone. It’s too terrifying after being shot at less than twenty-four hours ago.
“I will come home, Papá.”
“Good.”
I lean back and hold up a hand. “For Thanksgiving. The law firm has given me a few weeks off work after what happened, and I can talk to my professors about taking my classes online for a short time. I’m sure they will be fine with it after what happened. So, I will come home with you now, but after Thanksgiving, I am coming back to Alabama.”
“We shall see.”
I shake my head and let a small smile appear. My father is upset now, but I know him. In time, he will be fine. Hopefully, that time is by Thanksgiving, but if not, I will still be coming back. I have a plan for my life, and I fully intend to follow through with it.
I just need some time with my family first.