14. Kara
Kara
ONE WEEK LATER.
I sit across from Maya at a small corner table in a quiet Italian bistro four blocks from my apartment. Maya is my oldest friend from law school, a senior public defender who wears her hair in an unruly bun and views the entire judicial system as a personal challenge.
"You're looking at the door again, Kara," Maya notes, setting her wine glass down with a soft clink against the tablecloth.
"I'm checking the room," I reply, taking a small bite of my caprese salad.
"You've checked the room four times since we got here. Are you waiting for someone? Or perhaps something?" Maya asks, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms.
"I’m not waiting for anyone or anything, Maya." I tell her. "I’m just security conscious."
Maya tilts her head, her dark eyes scanning my face with sharp curiosity. "Right. How has life been lately? How’s Work? Perhaps there is a new beau?” She wiggles her brows playfully. “And how’s your “betrothed”? Found a way to convince your father yet?"
"He’s not my anything. Although, my father is trying to make it official. Never mind that I’m dating Vincenzo’s brother." I reply, setting my fork down. "And Vincenzo, in turn, has been trying to intimidate me, told me to watch my neck, and then vanished."
"What?! Girl, your life sounds like a soap opera.” Her eyes are wide as she processes what I just said.
” We’ll come back to your new beau, but babes, men who tell you to watch your neck don't usually vanish," Maya says, her tone dropping into a serious, grounded register.
"They wait until you think they've moved on. "
I know.
"I'm not letting my guard down, Maya," I whisper. "I have the audit filings ready on an encrypted drive. If Vincenzo makes a move toward my apartment or my office, those documents go directly to the federal inspector's desk."
“Please promise me you’ll be careful, Kara.”
“I promise.” I smile.
She looks at me for a few seconds, and I guess when she’s satisfied with what she saw, she nods and taps my hand lightly.
"So your new beau…" Maya drawls, a faint, knowing grin softening her expression.
"Leander," I say, his name slipping past my lips before I can filter it.
"Leander," Maya repeats, testing the word. "You say his name differently than you say everyone else's. Tell me everything about him and how you guys met.”
I tell her everything from how we met to how we got to where we are right now.
“…He’s dependable, sweet, considerate, and he listens to me. He sees me."
"You like him," Maya observes.
"I do and I trust him." I tell her.
Maya smiles softly, picking up her wine glass again. "Just be careful, Kara. You've spent two years building a wall between yourself and your family's business. Don't get caught in the crossfire now that you're standing your ground."
"I'm not standing in the crossfire, Maya," I reply, looking toward the glass front window at the street outside. "I'm directing it."
We finish dinner twenty minutes later. I split the check with Maya, step out onto the quiet sidewalk, and give her a brief, warm hug before she heads toward the subway entrance down the block.
I pull my phone from my coat pocket and dial Leander's number as I walk the four blocks toward my brownstone building.
He answers on the second ring.
"That took a while," Leander's raspy voice comes through the speaker.
"Dinner ran long," I say, my heels clicking against the concrete. "Maya asks too many questions. How was your floor today?"
"Two appendectomies, a fractured tibia, and Julian brought three boxes of powdered donuts into the breakroom," Leander replies. "It was chaos."
"Did you eat?"
"I ate an apple," he responds. "Where are you right now?"
"Walking down Fourth Avenue," I tell him, crossing the street at the green light. "I’m two blocks from my front door. The neighborhood is quiet."
"I'm ten minutes away from your building. Wait inside the lobby until I pull up," Leander mutters. I can hear the faint rustle of fabric on his end, he's in his sedan, engine idling.
"Leander, I've walked these four blocks by myself for two years." I turn the corner onto my street.
"That was before you met me and my brother threatened you," Leander replies, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Stay alert, Kara."
"I'm always alert.”
My brownstone sits halfway down the tree-lined street. The front porch light is on, casting a warm yellow glow across the stone steps.
I'm thirty feet from my front gate when a dark SUV idling near the curb kills its headlights.
I slow my pace by half a second, my right hand sliding into my coat pocket, my fingers wrapping around the brass pen I keep inside.
"Leander," I call into the phone, keeping my voice completely flat and level.
"What is it?" he asks instantly, the background noise in his car vanishing as he steps on the gas.
"There’s a grey SUV with blacked-out windows, parked near my gate," I tell him. "No license plate on the front bumper."
"Don't go near the steps, Kara," Leander commands, his raspy voice vibrating through the speaker. "Turn around and walk back toward Fourth Avenue. I'm three blocks away."
"I can't turn back," I say quietly.
The rear doors of the SUV swing open.
Three men step out onto the pavement. They move with disciplined weight, wearing dark jackets and leather gloves. The man in the lead is tall, thick-necked, with a jagged scar running along his jawline. I recognize him.
Gino. One of Vincenzo's personal enforcers.
Shit!
"Kara Rossi," Gino says, his voice rough and deep as he steps into the yellow glow of the streetlamp.
"Gino," I reply, standing my ground on the sidewalk fifteen feet away. I keep the phone pressed to my ear with my left hand, my right hand steady inside my pocket. "You're off your usual turf."
"Vincenzo sent us to pick you up," Gino steps forward. The two men behind him spread out, cutting off the path toward the main street. "He wants to discuss the harbor filings."
On the phone, I hear the roar of Leander's engine accelerating hard through an intersection, the screech of tires echoing faintly through the receiver.
"I don't discuss legal filings in the back of an unmarked SUV, Gino," I tell him, my eyes locking onto his without a fraction of hesitation. "Tell Vincenzo if he wants to talk, he can call my office during business hours."
Gino lets out a short breath through his nose. "He said you'd be difficult. He told us not to waste time talking."
I hope Leander gets here in time.
"Kara!" Leander's voice snaps through the phone speaker, loud and urgent. "Where are they?"
"In front of the gate," I say into the mic, keeping my posture entirely still. "Gino brought two men."
"I'm turning onto your block right now!" Leander growls.
Gino reaches into his coat, pulling a steel retractable baton from his pocket, extending the metal rod with a loud, sharp SNAP.
"Drop the phone, Miss Rossi," Gino orders, taking another fast step toward me.
I take one fast step backward, plant my weight firmly on my back foot, and swing my leather tote bag with all my force straight into the face of the second enforcer stepping up on my right.
The metal buckle on my bag catches the guy right across the bridge of his nose.
A sickening CRACK echoes down the quiet street. The man grunts loudly, staggering back two steps, his hands shooting up to cover his bleeding face.
"Grab her!" Gino barks out, lunging forward with the steel baton.
I don't try to run down the open sidewalk, Gino is taller and has a longer stride. I pivot instantly to my left, diving toward the narrow alleyway between my brownstone and the dry cleaners.
Bottleneck the space, they can't surround me in a three-foot gap.
Gino's baton swings downward, barely missing my shoulder, slamming hard against the brick wall with a loud clang that sends sparks flying in the dark.
I push through the narrow alley entrance, my heels digging into the concrete.
The third enforcer, a stocky man with broad shoulders, comes charging into the alley behind me, reaching out with both hands to catch my coat collar.
I turn sharply, my right hand coming out of my coat pocket with the brass pen held tight in my fist. Before he can grab my lapel, I drive the metal tip straight into the nerve bundle on the side of his neck.
The man lets out a wet, breathless gasp, his body collapsing sideways against the brick wall, his arm going completely limp.
"Kara!" Leander's voice roars from the phone lying on the gravel three feet behind me, it slipped from my hand when I struck the third man.
Before I can pick up the phone, a boot slams into my ribs from behind.
The force of the kick knocks the air completely out of my lungs. Pain explodes across my side like a hot iron, sending me crashing face-first onto the hard concrete floor of the alley. My shoulder hits the brick wall, skin tearing across my cheek, blood instantly blooming warm against my skin.
My vision flashes white for seconds.
I roll onto my back, clutching my side, gasping for air that refuses to come.
Oh god.
Gino stands over me in the narrow space of the alley. His face is dark, twisted with a bitter, furious glare as he raises his steel baton high above his head.
"Vincenzo said bring you alive," Gino growls, his voice raspy in the dark alley. "He didn't say whole."
"Touch her and you're a dead man, Gino!" a voice roars from the street entrance.
The sound of screeching tires and a car door slamming echoes through the block.
Gino turns his head toward the alley mouth just as Leander comes bursting into the narrow space like a freight train.
Leander closes the ten feet between them in two strides.
Gino swings the steel baton straight for Leander's skull. Leander doesn't even duck. He catches Gino's forearm mid-air with his left hand, the impact making a sickening thud, and drives his right fist straight into Gino's throat.
Gino lets out a choked, gurgling sound, his eyes rolling back as his airway collapses under the blow.
Leander grabs him by the front of his jacket with both hands, lifts the two-hundred-pound man off his feet, and slams him back-first onto the concrete wall.
The brick cracks under the impact. Leander drives three fast, brutal knee strikes straight into Gino's ribs, feeling the bones shatter under his weight.
Gino sags onto the gravel, completely unconscious, blood pooling from his mouth onto his coat collar.
The first enforcer, the one with the broken nose tries to scramble back toward the street. Leander turns on his heel, catches the man by the back of his neck, and slams his face flat onto the steel edge of a nearby dumpster.
The sound of shattering bone echoes through the alley. The man falls limp beside Gino.
Silence falls over the alleyway.
Leander stands in the middle of the narrow space, his chest heaving with deep, ragged breaths, his hands clenched into blood-soaked fists. His eyes are wide, dark, and wild.
He turns, his gaze finding me lying on the concrete against the brick wall.
The violent storm in his eyes instantly breaks, replaced by a terrifying panic that I've never seen on his face before.
"Kara," he whispers, his raspy voice shaking as he drops to his knees beside me.
"I'm here," I manage to say, my voice shallow as I fight to pull air into my crushed chest.
Leander reaches out, his large, warm hands touching my shoulders with incredible gentleness.
"Where are you hit?" he asks fast, his hands scanning my body, checking my collarbone, my head, my arms.
"Ribs," I gasp out, leaning my head back against the brick wall, my left hand holding my right side. "Left side. Gino... kicked me."
Leander's fingers move carefully down to my left ribs. The second his palm presses lightly against the fabric of my cream blazer, a sharp, excruciating spike of pain shoots through my side, making me let out a choked gasp.
Leander's breath catches in his throat. He pulls his hand back slightly, his palm is wet and dark with fresh blood.
A jagged piece of broken glass from a shattered bottle on the gravel had driven straight through my blazer and silk blouse when Gino kicked me onto the ground.
Leander unbuttons his charcoal coat in one fast motion, rips his white shirt open at the collar, and presses the clean linen fabric firmly against my left side to staunch the bleeding.
The pressure makes my vision blur at the edges, tears springing to my eyes despite my absolute resolve not to cry. I reach up with my right hand, catching his wrist, holding onto him like an anchor in the dark.
"Hold still, baby." Leander instructs softly, his forehead dropping against mine for two seconds, his chest shuddering with heavy, controlled breaths. "I've got you. I've got you, Kara."
"The drive," I pant out, my eyes looking into his dark ones. "In my coat pocket... the harbor logs."
"Forget the drive," Leander commands, his voice firm and absolute as he scoops his right arm under my knees and his left behind my back.
He lifts me off the cold concrete in one smooth, fluid movement, pulling my body flush against his chest. I wrap my good arm around his neck, burying my face into the crook of his shoulder as a fresh wave of pain rolls through my ribs.
He carries me out of the narrow alleyway, stepping over Gino's limp body without a second glance, heading straight toward his idling sedan parked at the curb.
He opens the passenger door, sets me down carefully onto the leather seat, and pulls the seatbelt across my chest, clicking it firmly into place.
He leans in close, his hand catching the side of my face, his thumb gently wiping a smear of blood from my cheekbone.
"Look at me, Kara," Leander whispers, his raspy voice steady and sharp.
I open my eyes, locking my gaze onto his.
"I'm driving you to the clinic," he tells me softly. "You're going to be fine. Do you hear me?"
"I hear you," I whisper.
Leander slams the passenger door shut, runs around the hood, and gets into the driver's seat. He hits the gas, the engine roaring as the sedan speeds down the dark street, leaving the brownstone and the broken enforcers behind us.
I lean my head back against the leather headrest, holding his shirt tight against my bleeding side, watching his hands grip the steering wheel with white-knuckled force.
I look over at Leander's dark profile in the amber dashboard light—his jaw clenched, his eyes fixed on the road ahead with lethal, unwavering focus.
Vicenzo, that son of a gun has no idea what’s coming for him.