I rub my eyes with one hand as I head to the change rooms to shower. I can feel the eyes of the blonde woman burning into my back, but I pay no attention.
“Her apartment’s been trashed,” Dario says. “No sign of her, though her bags had been packed. Looked like they’d been tossed into her apartment after some kind of struggle. Purse and passport all left behind.”
“Fuck,” I say, knowing this isn’t a good sign. He’s drawing me in deeper, in spite of my resolve. I’d tried to avoid showing any interest in her during those months she’d invaded our world. Not easy when the woman had intrigue written into every inch of her irresistible frame. And now, this is proving me right.
“Something’s happened to her,” Dario says.
No shit, Sherlock.
I could have predicted this six months ago. Why would the daughter of a high-profile hotshot live the way she did? The life of a pediatric doctor; comfortable but by no means decadent. Why would she keep her connection to her father so obscured? Andy Carter had given every impression that she was just a regular girl when she could have had anything she wanted.
It wasn’t until Dario’s woman had needed a place to hide out that there’d been a hint of more to Andy’s world. Nikki had been whisked away to one of Carter’s luxury mansions when the shit hit the fan in the Caraldi enclave. Sadly, the security hadn’t been up to the task of dealing with the Russian mafia. Dario’s soon-to-be bride had taken out an assassin while Andy had been locked in one of the nearby suites. I have no doubt that Dario still hasn’t forgiven himself. Which is probably why he’s asking me to get in on this new web of bullshit.
And I can feel myself being woven into that web, even though every instinct is screaming to stay out of it.
What the hell is wrong with me?
The men’s change room is abandoned when I make my way into it and reach the locker where I’ve stashed my gear.
“Fine, I’ll do it,” I huff out, not bothering to hide the reluctance from my voice. Maybe it’s not real reluctance. Or maybe I feel a sense of duty to the younger brother I promised my mother I’d take care of.
Like the don of a mafia family actually needs me to take care of him.
“This means a lot to me,” Dario says. I nod, even though I know he can’t see me.
“I’ll get onto it right away,” I say, then end the call. If Andy Carter is the woman I think she is, and what Dario has told me is true, it may already be too late.
Chapter 7
Andy Carter
Iswing the wheel of the Ferrari and angle the sleek vehicle into a spot in front of the diner on the outskirts of the small town I’ve driven into. Thanks to a full tank of fuel, and a sense of self-preservation, I’ve managed to put at least fifty miles between my captors and me. Though I’m pretty certain it’s only a matter of time before I’m tracked down. I clamber out of the low-slung car and head to the door of the diner. It’s early morning, and the place is empty, aside from a time-worn woman wiping down the counter.
“Mornin’, sweetie,” she says with a smile. “What’ll it be today? Can I get you a coffee? Breakfast?”
I’m impressed that she seems unperturbed by my unkempt appearance, but that’s the least of my concerns now.
“I’ve had a bit of trouble,” I say, trying to keep my composure. “I’ve lost my purse…my identification…all of my cash.” I run a hand through my hair. It’s not hard to appear exasperated. I’m more than flustered.
“Oh, you poor dear,” she says, stopping her cleaning. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“I need to make a call,” I answer. “Is there any way I can use a phone? I can pay you for the call – as soon as I reach my um…family.”
She nods immediately, reaching into the pocket of her faded pink uniform. “You can use mine. No trouble at all,” she says, handing me her cellphone. It’s a battered, old-model Samsung. I half wonder if it even uses data. Maybe that’s better – maybe it’ll be harder to trace the call if anyone’s tapping into any communications I might be attempting. Though, with my luck lately, that’s unlikely.
I reward her with my brightest smile – which is an effort, despite my sincere gratitude. Part of me keeps wanting to check over my shoulder to see if anyone is coming through the door. I started out on some back roads until I realized I’d probably get completely lost. Then I’d made my way onto the highway and picked up speed. It hadn’t taken long to figure out that I’ve been driving through some part of New York State.
Pretty disconcerting since I’d been packing my bags and preparing to leave my Vegas apartment when Mark’s men had abducted me yesterday morning. They must have gotten me clear across the country while I was unconscious. Not impossible, considering Mark’s resources – though I have no idea how much time has passed since I was taken.
“Um, could you tell me what day it is?” I ask, hoping she doesn’t think I’m some sort of psycho.
“Why, it’s Monday mornin’, sweetie,” she says, not hiding her concern. Shit! I’d been packing to leave on Saturday. I’ve been out of reach for nearly two days.
“Are you sure I can’t help you with a cup of coffee or something? Maybe I should be getting you some help to—”
“No!” I say sharply, remembering Mark’s threats about owning the police. I’d assumed he meant the cops in Vegas, but there’s no telling how far his reach extends. Especially now that he’s in league with my fucking father.Corrupt bastard.
“No, I just need to get in touch with my people.” I focus on the keypad of the phone, struggling to remember Nikki’s phone number. Panic must be sharpening my recollection because when the call rings through, the voice that replies is immediately familiar.
