The Woman in the Wrong Place (Grassi Framily)

But no family.

If it had to be the Grassi men or me, I guess the lesser of two evils would be me. And I had to believe that the universe would know that and act accordingly.

“Excuse me,” I said, tone a little snippy. “I believe we were speaking,” I said, looking over at Luigi.

“This bitch…” the evil-eyed guy grumbled.

“I figured we were done since I don’t think I’m gonna need your information on Matteo. Since he isn’t likely going to be a problem after tonight.”

“Maybe not. But it would be naive of you to think you could get all the Grassi men in one night. I’m sure Matteo found out about Massimo and Aurelio, and promptly warned the others to be vigilant. You aren’t going to do a full housecleaning tonight.”

“And?” Luigi asked, jaw tight, not liking being told his plan had flaws built into it.

“And I know things.”

“What kind of things?”

“About the new security systems. About certain passcodes that might prove useful to finish carrying out your plan.”

“And you expect us to believe you’d just give them to us?” the evil-eyed guy asked, rolling his eyes at the idea. “Never met a bitch who wants something for nothing.”

“I’ve never met a man who actually listens when a woman talks,” I said, shaking my head at him. “I already told you it wasn’t going to be for nothing.”

“So you just want me to let you walk,” Luigi said. “How am I going to be sure you won’t go to the cops? Or blackmail me?”

“I’ve had just about enough of all this mafia bullshit,” I said, sighing like it was such an inconvenience. “I just want out. I have my money from Matteo. I can start over with it. You would never hear from me again.”

“Boss, you can’t be considering this,” the evil-eyed one said, throwing his hand out toward me. “She’s…”

He didn’t get to finish his sentence.

Because the front door was slamming open.

Men were yelling.

And that newly familiar pop-pop-pop sound was coming from the front of the house.

I didn’t pause.

I didn’t wait to see what these men were going to do.

Because even if this was the Grassis coming to save me, I knew for damn sure that I didn’t want to be caught in the middle of a gunfight.

I took advantage of my captor’s distraction, and I flew out the glass doors to the backyard.

I figured I could circle back if or when I heard the chaos die down.

But I had to get as far away from the flying bullets as possible.

So I charged off the deck, nearly face-planting when I missed a step, and started across the back grounds.

My heart was in overdrive, my breath huffing out of me erratically. Partly thanks to the fear, partly the pain in my ribs, and partly because I hadn’t done anything resembling cardio in more months than I cared to admit even to myself.

I had no real destination in mind, especially knowing that the fence wasn’t climbable, so my idea was just to get as far away as possible, maybe hide behind a tree or a big shrub, out of sight, until it was over. And I maybe saw one of the Grassi men moving around.

Until then, I just had to get lost and hide.

But even as I saw the tree I had in mind for cover, a hand was reaching out, grabbing my arm, and yanking back so hard that my shoulder screamed as I had no choice but to turn to release the ache.

Another hand shot out, closing around my throat.

And lifting me off my feet as my breath got caught beneath his palm.

I had no real way of knowing.

I’d barely seen him.

But some primal part of me was one-hundred-percent sure that this was the guy who’d attacked me at work, who’d taken such glee in hurting me, who would have killed me if he had just a few more minutes.

I guess he was getting another chance.

And I was helpless to do anything but gasp and flail and try to scratch at his hand with my nails.

To no avail.

“Meant to do you in then,” he said, confirming my worries. “Glad I’m getting a second chance to watch the life drain from that pretty face,” he added, actually smiling at the idea of watching me die.

And I was dying.

I could feel the way my heartbeat hammered harder, but slower, like it was already starting to give up.

My face felt foreign and tingly.

And the pressure in my chest from the lack of oxygen was painful.

The panic was something like I’d never experienced before.

The complete and utter helplessness as I felt my life drifting away was something I would never be able to find words to express.

Then I heard it, almost like from a football field away because my hearing was going wonky.

The pop-pop-pop.