Page 36 of Assassin's Obsession

Knowing Freddy is the man holding me doesn't give me comfort. He and his friends are mafia. I don't know if they're Genovese, like Angelo and my sperm donor, but they've got that made man attitude.

Cold and soulless.

The door cracks open and hope makes me double down on my struggles.

Pressing his hand so hard against my mouth, my teeth cut the inside of my lip, he barks, "Get lost. There's nothing to see here."

And the door shuts again. Just like that.

I don't even know who was on the other side. They didn't step out into the alley to check who was pounding on the door even. And I don't really blame them.

Looking is just asking for trouble. But I doubt anyone's calling the cops either. If I recognize the guy holding me, they probably do too.

The mafia doesn't take kindly to snitches and they don't leave witnesses.

The only one who's going to save me, is me.

I bite hard on the fleshy part of Freddy's hand. The coppery taste of blood lets me know I broke skin. Good.

Take that, asshole.

"Son of a bitch!" Freddy pulls his maimed appendage out of the reach of my teeth and his other arm loosens just enough.

Jerking away, I drop low, and breaking out of his hold completely, run toward the mouth of the alley.

"Catch her," the older guy still standing over their intended victim yells.

My arms and knees pumping, I sprint with all I've got. I don't waste breath screaming again, I'm set on one goal. Getting to the street.

But then, silhouetted against the light from the street, two more large human shapes come into the alley. They head toward me at a jog and my heart sinks.

Backup has arrived for the guys intent on killing the deadbeat debtor and my goose is cooked.

With a burst of terror driven adrenalin, I sprint at an angle, hoping to avoid their long arms by scooting close to the brick outer wall of the club.

"Don't let her past!" The guy who's doing nothing to chase me down shouts.

The two men spread out, making it harder to avoid getting caught by them. The alley is narrow, but not so narrow I won't try it.

I duck down and try running right between them. I think I'm going to make it when I'm lifted clean off my feet by an arm around my waist.

"Help me!" I scream, hoping I'm close enough to the mouth of the alley to be heard over the street noise. "Call 911!"

"Shh, Ms. Candi. Don't hold her so tight, Derian."

"She's a wildcat, Mario. If I let go, who knows what she'll do." He looks down at me and grumps, like he's feeling put upon. "We're not going to hurt you."

Ms. Candi? Not going to hurt me? Who are these goons?

"I don't believe you.Help!" My shout has less oomph because the hold around my middle is making it hard to fill my lungs.

Then I do the only thing I can think of, knowing it's probably the most ridiculous claim I'll ever make. "If you hurt me Angelo Caruso will cut off your hands."

"He wouldn't stop at our hands if harm came to you because of us, trust me," the guy my captor called Mario says in enthusiastic agreement.

"Then let me go."

"No can do. Those two work for somebody else," Mario explains. "We let you run, and they follow. Maybe not now, but later. We let that happen and we might as well order our own gravestones."

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