Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76501 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76501 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
“Train station,” I say quietly to myself. “Subway first. Then Amtrak or something else as far west as I can go. Maybe a bus.” I tighten the straps on my pack.
I can do this.
I get three steps across the street when a car comes roaring toward me.
I hurry on to the other side, but instead of passing through, the car slams to a screeching halt. I stare in sudden panic and begin to run, sprinting as fast as I can as two men leap from the car and chase after me.
I don’t recognize them and I don’t have time to look over my shoulder. They could be Russian or Italian or Greek, I really have no clue, and it doesn’t matter. All I know is, two mafia-looking guys are chasing after me, and I need to get away.
I sprint around the corner. I’m totally lost, but I run as fast as I can, whizzing past parked cars and the few night owls out late walking home from the bar or taking their little dogs for a stroll. The guys chasing me are closing in, and even though I’m in good shape and a strong runner, I still haven’t been able to keep my fitness up to where I want it to be. I’m getting tired, my breath coming in ragged, my legs burning, my arms heavy, my throat on fire.
“Stop running,” one of the men growls. He doesn’t have a Russian accent, which is good. I try to dodge away but he grabs my wrist and yanks, and I release a wicked scream as I slam into a stoop and tumble sideways.
He’s on me before I can scramble away. Two big men drag me from the ground. I thrash and fight but their grip is iron, and I can’t escape. They take me to the street and a second later that car appears again, tearing to a halt. They rip open the back door and throw me inside. One follows and the other gets up front.
I’m squeezed between two bastard in the back seat of a large black Range Rover, and my head’s pounding and my heart’s racing and sweat pours down my back.
“I’ll be honest, Ms. Florakis, I didn’t think you’d have the balls to try that.”
I stare at Yianna Calimeris. He’s not in a suit anymore—instead, he’s in a black sweatshirt over jeans. His men are all dressed in similar outfits, probably better to blend into the night that way, and it’s easier to hide a gun.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I ask him, on the verge of panicking more.
He sighs and rubs his face. The man looks tired, like he’s been out late every night for weeks.
Or like he’s been surveilling the Valverde house.
“When your husband came to meet with me, I decided that he’s going to be a problem. We’ve been watching you ever since.”
“But why are you here?”
“Despite what you might think, I get my hands dirty.”
I try to get my breathing under control. The thug to my left is looking at me like he wants to break my neck and the men up front stare studiously out the windshield.
I’m in a lot of freaking trouble right now.
“I was just going for a walk,” I say stupidly and I can tell by the way Yiannis grimaces that he doesn’t believe me.
“Yes, I’m sure you were. All the way to the subway and hopefully out of the city, am I right about that?”
“You might be.”
“Tell me something. Why are you married to that Italian?”
I close my eyes and try to steady myself. I have to remain calm. This seems like a terrible situation—if I look at it from Luca’s perspective.
But these men are Greek. They’re my people, even if they’re the American counterparts to my father’s family. They still care about me, or at least they want to use me for their own purposes, which means they don’t want to see me get hurt right now.
They might even be my salvation.
“He was sent to kill me, but he didn’t. Instead, he offered me a choice. I could become his wife, or he could throw me out a very high window.” I don’t mention the ring or the bullet, because that memory perversely feels too private, like it belongs only to me. Like it’s special.
“You chose life. I can’t blame you. Luca Valverde isn’t such a bad one, as far as Italians go.”
“He killed my father. He killed Perico. My entire life is in shambles because of him.”
“And here you are, running away.” Yiannis leans closer. “Did you mean it back in the diner? What you said about mending the rift between the families?”
I open my mouth and close it again. What’s he getting at right now? I tilt my head and possibilities rip through my mind. Maybe they want to marry me off to one of their guys, or maybe they want to see if I really am on their side. Either way, I don’t see any reason to lie.