But I can’t. Memories crash into me, one after another—of being dragged into the alley, the pillow coming down on my face, the bullet slamming into the car right above me—and I’m helpless to do anything but relive them.
I can feel the agony when my shoulder was dislocated. The explosion of pain when my head hit the ground. The suffocating terror as my air ran out.
I try to speak, shout, doanythingto help myself, but all that comes out is a strangled gasp.
It’s happening again.I thought it was safe. But it’s not.
The man pinning me to the wall bares his lips in a rictus of a grin. “Imagine my surprise, finding you here. I haven’t stopped thinking about you, you know.”
“What?” I manage. “Wha?—”
He slams me into the wall again. His hand tightens around my upper arm to the point of pain. Then he shoves something round and hard against my stomach. “Don’t try anything,” he hisses. “Or I’ll shoot you.”
My heart stops.
No, no, no, no, no.
This can’t be happening. It can’t. Not here. Not now.
“I couldn’t believe it was you,” he continues, “when I saw you outside that building. But then I thought; it must be fate, running into you like this.”
Fate?
What does that even mean?
Unless.
Did Elio somehow send someone after me? Or did Caruso decide he wanted out of Nico’s deal? Could I possibly be unlucky enough to have another case that ended me in trouble?
“I think we’re going to go for a little walk,” the man says. “Someplace more… private. Where I can show you what happens to women who think they’re too good for regular guys like me. Who waltz around in their tight clothes, just begging for men to approach them. But when they do, you bitches justloveshooting us down, don’t you? Making us out like we’re the bad guy whenyouwere asking for it.”
What?
Asking for it?
Who—
Like the last puzzle piece clicking into place, it hits me.
Blond hair. Blandly handsome features. A hint of bitter malice in his eyes.
“Do you remember me?” the man from the subway train asks. His gaze narrows on me. “Do you remember how much of a bitch you were?”
What?A bitch? He wouldn’t leave me alone after I politely asked him to. Then hecalled me a bitch when I left my seat. And he’s accusingmeof being the bad guy?
Panic fades as anger takes over.
This asshole. This psychotic, misogynisticasshole.
My frozen muscles thaw.
He thinks he can get what he wants by using his body to control me? Just like those men in the alley? And the one in the hospital?
No. Just no.
I’m not a victim anymore. And I’m not letting him get away with this.
“What are you doing?” I snap. “Get off me. Now!”
