The Woman from the Past (Grassi Framily)

“Shit. That’s a long-ass line,” Lucas said as we got close to the deli.

“Rizzo is probably losing her mind,” I said. “I better go,” I said as the car idled, waiting for someone to park.

With that, the next several hours were a complete blur. If I thought I’d dealt with a rush before, I’d been sadly mistaken. The weekend crowd was never-ending and impatient, putting an already moody Rizzo in a worse and worse mood as the hours went by.

Which set my nerves on edge, making me feel overheated and frazzled, my mind not able to focus on anything but sandwich ingredients and side work that needed to be done.

“Go. Just go,” Rizzo hissed when I brought the wrong thing out from the back, making her snatch it out of my hands and start to charge back from the kitchen.

“My ride—“ I started.

“Just wait out front. I’ll call my son,” she growled before disappearing.

Not really wanting any more of her wrath, and needing some air that didn’t reek of deli meat, onions, or sauces, I washed my hands and moved outside, taking a slow, deep breath, and trying to pull myself together.

I didn’t want Colin suspecting anything, even though I logically knew there was no way he could guess that I was working behind his back with the mafia.

I was turning to go to Traveler’s place to grab a quick coffee before my ride got there.

And that was when it happened.

A hand slapped over my mouth.

An arm went around my waist.

And I was yanked off of my feet, turned, and shoved into the trunk of a car before I could even process the fear as it exploded through my system.

By the time my actual fight-or-flight instincts kicked in, it was too late.

I was already in the trunk, and the car was peeling away from the curb.

A scream bubbled up in my throat before I tamped it down.

What good would screaming do?

No one would do anything or say anything. Not in this neighborhood. They were too used to terrible things happening. They knew to look the other way and fight off that innate urge to do the right thing.

Screaming wouldn’t help.

Neither would trying to stick my hand or foot out of the taillight for the same reason.

Unless we drove around for long enough, then I might be able to get the attention of someone in a different area.

Better to save my energy. For when the trunk opened.

Then maybe I could, I don’t know, hit someone and try to make a run for it.

I wasn’t tied up.

I had that going for me.

Who would have taken me? The guys who left the note? The Calgary Family?

But why?

Yes, they’d made it clear they wanted to speak to me. It kind of came off as an “or else” thing. But they hadn’t exactlytoldme how we would go about having a meeting. So, doing the whole “or else” thing was kind of unfair.

Unless this was how they were going to choose to have the meeting. In which case, it was really risky to just grab me off of the street.