Page 18 of Taken By the Mobster

Declan put a hand in the middle of her back and pushed her out the bedroom door in front of him. His men rushed around the house, gathering weapons and supplies. Through the open front door, she saw the dark blue SUV with its open doors. Parked behind it was a dark blue Mercedes. Declan pushed her through the house and ushered her down the porch steps. She flinched when her bare feet hit the wet, muddy ground. A rock pierced the bottom of her foot as she stepped into the dead grass. Afraid to utter a word of protest, she kept her mouth shut as Declan guided her across the dying lawn and shoved her into the backseat of the Mercedes. He climbed in beside her and pulled the door shut.

Olivia huddled in the backseat’s corner and wrapped the quilt tight around herself. She gnawed on her lower lip and tried to ignore the pain from the cut pulsing in her foot.

Conor climbed in the driver’s seat and turned to look at Declan. “How long?” he asked.

Declan leaned over the front seat and checked his watch. “My guess? Thirty minutes.”

“We can go,” Conor said. “Walsh and Murphy can finish here.”

“Then let’s go,” Declan said.

Conor nodded, started the car, and pulled away from the house. Olivia watched over her shoulder as the house disappeared behind her.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

As Declan sat back, his hand brushed against hers. He pulled his fedora down low and stared straight ahead.

“Albany,” he replied. “I have a friend there who can help us.”

“Help you do what?” she asked.

Declan looked at her out of the corner of his eye. He scrubbed a hand over his face.

“Hide.”

It was dark after the four-hour drive to Albany when Conor parked the car in front of a large, two-story home in Albany, New York. Declan opened the door and stepped out while Conor kept the car running. He surveyed his surroundings before he leaned down and peered into the car. He held out his hand.

“Come on,” he ordered.

Olivia gathered the quilt around her and slid across the seat. She hissed as her bare feet hit the cold concrete, and pain lanced through her injured foot. She glanced up and down the street, contemplating her chances of getting away.

Declan cleared his throat, drawing her attention back to him. He shook his head, a silent communication she immediately understood. He might as well have reached beneath his coat and pulled his gun from his holster. She nodded and followed him through a wrought-iron gate and up a steep set of stairs.

Declan pounded on the door as she shifted from foot to foot and shivered. She tried pulling the blanket tighter around herself, but it didn’t do any good.

A tall, rail thin woman opened the door. She was older than either Olivia or Declan, with beautifully styled gray hair and dark pink lipstick. She wore a simple black dress and high heels, which only made her seem like she towered over them.

“Declan!” She smiled widely, then she pushed past them to look up and down the street. “Thank God! Get in here.”

Declan didn’t speak until they were in the foyer, with the door locked behind them. He stepped around Olivia, gathered the woman into his arms, hugged her close, and kissed her cheek.

“Thank you for this, Ezra. I know it puts you in danger—.”

Ezra cut him off by grabbing his cheeks and squeezing. She shook her head and clicked her tongue. “Enough of that. You know I don’t care about that.” She tipped her head in Olivia’s direction. “Is that her?”

“Yeah, that’s her. Olivia. Do you have a place we can stash her?”

Red-hot irritation rushed through Olivia. She didn’t take kindly to being treated like something that had to be hidden. For crying out loud, she was a living, breathing person. She kept her mouth shut and silently fumed. Speaking up wouldn’t change anything.

“Declan.” Ezra shook her head, but her protest died on her lips as Declan cut her off with nothing more than a look. Her mouth snapped closed, and she nodded.

“Conor is around back, putting the car in the garage,” Declan explained. “Put Olivia somewhere. I need to go help Conor and make sure he’s not seen. Walsh and Murphy will be here soon. They were right behind us.” He glanced at Olivia before disappearing down a hallway that stretched out in front of them. A few seconds later, Olivia heard a door slam at the back of the house.

Ezra pointed at the stairs. “If you’ll follow me, dearie.” Her tone was sharp and curt, the endearment harsh and almost spiteful.

Olivia followed Ezra up two flights of stairs to the third floor, then they made their way down a long, narrow hallway. Her limp became more pronounced with each step, thanks to the cut on her foot. At the end of the hall, Ezra opened a door and turned on a lamp, the light spilling into the hallway.

Olivia peered around the older woman, curious to see where they would put her this time.

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