“Malen’kaya shlyushka,” he howled.
Little slut.
His rage allowed me enough time to flick open the blade, driving it into his neck.
With him stunned, I was able to break free, almost reaching the door when I was dragged back by my hair.
Everything happened so quickly as I struggled, fighting them with everything I had. The fact they were brazen enough to attempt a kidnapping now meant they had no intention of leaving anyone alive who got in their way.
I refused to go down quietly, kicking and punching. As soon as I broke free, I issued a sharp cry, the sound much shriller than before. The man with the scar tried clamping his huge hand across my mouth again, but I bit down as hard as possible, tasting blood.
He jerked his hand free, cursing in Russian before backhanding me. The force pitched me across the room. I was dazed, gasping for air as he came for me, snarling as he did.
“What the fuck is going on here?”
The voice I recognized, the nice janitor I’d talked to almost every time I was in the building.
“Jimmy!” I crawled up the wall, thankful he wasn’t alone. As a scuffle broke out, I used the chaos, grabbing my bag and fleeing the room. My tennis shoes pounded on the concrete floor as I fled the scene, only looking back once.
If I could get to the back door, I stood a good chance of making it to the subway before they caught up with me.
Just as I threw open the door, I heard a noise that I’d never forget and never wanted to hear again.
Two gunshots.
I ran, never stopping once, never turning around until I’d safely jumped onto the subway. As I sat down, hugging my bag, only then did I allow tears to fall.
I’d never be free.
I’d never have a normal life.
I would always be the daughter of an Italian Don.
I would always be collateral.
As the bright lights of the beautiful city I loved with all my heart passed by, I pulled out my phone, staring at the screen for a few minutes. My heart was heavy, my mind barely able to process what had just occurred. But I had to keep moving. I had to keep fighting.
With a heavy sigh, I dialed the phone number, still struggling with my decision until the beep indicated I should leave a message.
“Hi. This is Anna Scavo. Thank you so much for contacting me and I’m very excited. I called because… if the position is still open with the New Orleans Ballet, I’d love to take it.”
CHAPTER 2
Jaxon Prince
“There’s scuttlebutt on the street you’re not going to like.”
Donatello’s voice seemed an odd combination of amusement and concern. As my Capo, my closest friend, and the only person who I allowed get away with a hell of a lot of shit, he’d been grating my nerves all morning. “What scuttlebutt are we talking about?”
“Don’t shoot the messenger.” He adjusted his tie before continuing. “About the Italians possibly invading our territory. I know. Don’t say it. Not possible. Right?”
“What? You better be wrong.”
He shifted in the seat. “I don’t think I am. A couple informants heard some shit.”
“Which informants?”
“Ones I trust.” He rubbed his jaw, his eyebrows pinched together.
