Page 8 of Married to the Mafia

But at ten after twelve she stood, drive in hand, and nearly walked straight into her boss.

Mikey caught her by the elbow as she stumbled back, keeping her from anything more embarrassing, like falling on her ass. “Trying to work through lunch again, Richardson?”

Brandi blew out a breath. “No, sir.” She raised the drive. “I was just finishing up. The file’s right here.”

He raised a brow and held out his palm, allowing her to drop it into his hand. “Two hours, huh?”

She ground her teeth. “I apologize. I’ve just had something on my mind this morning.” She lifted her purse from the back of her chair, which wasn’t even where she usually put it, she realized. “If I’m free to go, I really shouldn’t skip lunch two days in a row.” Not that it would hurt her figure. Her doctor kept lecturing her about losing weight, the pig. He didn’t seem to give a shit about her sense of self or the fact that she was comfortable in her skin. The numbers on the chart said she was overweight, so he wanted the pounds off.

Mikey shifted his weight, lowering his arm and closing his fist around the drive. “You’re still ahead of schedule. I’ll look it over this afternoon.” He paused, but didn’t move. “Is something the matter, Richardson?”

The name grated down her spine. “Only that you refuse to call me Brandi.” She didn’t let the words linger. “May I take my break now, Mr. De Salvo?”

She swore his lips twitched, but it happened so quickly she wasn’t sure she hadn’t hallucinated it. This time he stepped aside. “Give yourself an hour. Try to unwind.” He held up the drive. “A reward for coming in a full week ahead of schedule.” Then he turned and strode back to his office.

Brandi blew out a breath and went straight to the elevator. She didn’t have the energy to argue. If she had extra time, she could use it to actually eat and hopefully get some answers. But she wasn’t foolish enough to make that call until she was back in her car, the doors locked and her seatbelt buckled for peace of mind. She rolled the engine over and paired her phone to the car so she could multitask, then put the car in motion.

This time, by some miracle, her jackass father answered. “Three calls in one morning. The guilt must really be eating at you.”

“Shove it,” she snapped. She swung a little too sharply into traffic and aimed for the first place she could think of. “Who the hell do you owe money to?”

“I beg your pardon? You have a lot of nerve speaking to me this way after last night, young lady.”

“First, you don’t get to ‘young lady’ me anymore,” she said in her firmest tone. She switched lanes and her gaze snagged on a familiar, stomach-churning SUV in her rearview mirror. And she wasn’t hungry. She was only scared. She passed the turn she’d wanted and decided to go for the interstate. Maybe she could lose the bastard. “Second, if you would pay your goddamn debts—or, here’s a thought, control your spending like a grown-ass adult—then maybe I wouldn’t have woken up to a stranger standing over my bed at four o’clock in the morning.”

Wesley was silent for several seconds. Then, of all the responses she’d expected, he let out a heavy, disappointed sigh. “You really are on a tear, Brandi. Pull yourself together.” The line clicked.

Her jaw dropped. “Are you fucking kidding me?” She screamed the words into the empty car, tears of frustration and fury burning her eyes. No. No more crying. Her throat swelled and she swallowed hard, forcing the emotion down to the depths of her soul. She’d wasted enough tears on that man, and the messes he remorselessly dumped her in.

Her father wasn’t the only grown-ass adult in this situation. She would get herself out, somehow. And if he didn’t like her methods? Well, she’d given him the opportunity to do it his way.

The real question was, what method did she have available?

Brandi switched lanes and accelerated, hoping to get lost in lunchtime traffic. It was ultimately a losing strategy, because she wasn’t going to run away from her job. She liked her job most days. But if she could ditch the monster tailing her, even just for a moment, she might feel a little stronger.

Her plan was going great. She lost sight of her stalker’s SUV in less than ten minutes, and just to be safe, she took a few extra atypical turns. She knew the area; she wasn’t worried about getting lost.

She never considered being worried about suddenly becoming stranded.

On a less-than-desirable side road, in an attempt to circle back around to somewhere she’d prefer to be, Brandi heard an unfamiliar bursting sound and her car gave a violent jerk. She managed to get it under control, but was forced to pull to the side of the one-way street. Her heart hammered in her chest. She checked all her mirrors, again, but still saw nothing.

There was a building not far behind her, but it didn’t look occupied and she saw no movement. No other cars were visible. She couldn’t even see a bird.

Telling herself not to freak out, Brandi cut the engine, grabbed her phone, and stepped from the car. She saw the problem as soon as she shut the door. Her front driver’s side tire was shredded.

“Sonofabitch.” Brandi popped her trunk and moved around to the back of the car, hoping she misremembered her bad habit. She was fairly sure she hadn’t removed the spare, though figuring out how to get into the underneath panel was another thing. The larger issue was her tendency to take the tools out of her car and forget to put them back.

A subtle, but undeniable click from behind her made her go completely still.

“Go ahead an’ step back from the car,” an unfamiliar male voice said. She shouldn’t have been relieved that it wasn’t her stalker, but it wasn’t, and she was.

Brandi released a slow breath. “Okay.” She didn’t insist on saying more or try to turn around. She very literally stepped backward, slowly, until she was out of arm’s reach of her car.

Two figures moved past her, one up to the trunk and one toward the shredded tire. A third figure remained in her periphery. “You got anythin’ traceable in there?” The third was definitely the one who’d spoken originally.

Brandi made no attempt to look in his direction. Instead, she kept her head pointed down. She could see shoes and pant legs, enough to get a rough idea of body size, but not enough to confidently identify anyone. “There’s a built-in GPS.” She had left her tablet at the office, thank goodness.

“And?” her babysitter pushed while his companions set about replacing her shredded tire.

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