Page 51 of Mob Bride

“Hello?”

I’m ready to go for my gun when three men burst into my bedroom. I’m still in my bathrobe with a towel wrapped around my head. He knocked the towel askew with his kiss, so I pull it off.

“Tymoteusz, what the hell are you doing here? Get out!”

I clutch my robe to me since I didn’t have the belt fastened. Tymoteusz expression screams he knows everything Bartlomiej and Jacek discussed last night. He’s aware I’m an agent, and I’m somehow involved with Shane. He’s always been the one to come to my defense. The one who’s protected me. Now he looks like he’ll be the one to gut me.

“Kaja, get dressed. Bartek wants to see you.”

“I know. I am getting ready. We’re going on our trip. You didn’t have to burst in here to make sure I’d show up. I already promised him I would.”

I try to sound as normal as I can, as though nothing out of the ordinary is happening. But I tremble for good measure. I allow my genuine fear to show.

Bartlomiej’s put a hit on me.

He’s giving his cousin a chance before he makes it an open contract.

“Don’t speak. Get dressed. If you don’t come out in the next three minutes, I’ll drag you out by your hair naked if I have to.”

“Tymoteusz, what are you talking about?”

“Don’t. I believe nothing you say. I know who you are. I know you’re a liar and a spy. Like I said, three minutes to dress, or I’ll drag you out of here naked. I don’t care who sees you. I’ll dump you in front of Bartek naked as the day you were born. It’ll make it easier for him to slash your throat if you don’t have a shirt in the way.”

My eyes widen, and my hands tremble.

“You can cut that shit out, Kaja. You may have fooled me before with your shitty acting, but you don’t fool me now. Don’t play innocent with me because I know what you are. Give me your phone. You’re not calling Shane O’Rourke to beg him to save you.”

I stand my ground for a few seconds before I go to my bedside table and throw the phone at him.

“Get out. You’re wasting my three minutes.”

There’s no point in pretending now. It’ll only piss him off more. He walks out along with the two men who stood as silent guards, guns pointing at me. They don’t close the door behind them. Luckily, I have a walk-in closet. I grab a bra and panties, then step into the closet. I find clothes that’ll be comfortable to run in.

If I wear sneakers, it’ll make it too obvious I plan to bolt. I won’t wear heels since I’ll break my fucking neck in them, and ballet flats will come off. Instead, I pick some flat boots thatwill make it easy for me to go the moment I have the chance. I’m silent as I leave my bedroom. I grab my purse, which I can already tell they’ve searched. There’s nothing incriminating. That’s one thing I’m always sure of. I always expect there’s the chance I’ll be made, so I carry nothing with me besides mace, which makes sense as a single woman living in New York. That’s entirely plausible.

I head out to a car parked in the underground garage. The two men who came with Tymoteusz get into the driver’s seat and the front passenger seat. Tymoteusz slides into the town car beside me. He has his gun resting on his lap, ready to put it to my head if I even breathe the wrong way. We ride in silence as we head toward Queens. We aren’t going to Bartlomiej’s since he lives pretty close to me in Brooklyn.

I keep an eye on our surroundings. I appear as though I’m sulking as I gaze out the window. That’s just fine, but I’m thinking about each place I could get out and run. They didn’t pay attention to me as I climbed in. One guy opened the door, but he focused on his partner, so I ensured the childproof lock was off. When I’m ready to run, I don’t want to pull the handle and be stuck.

As we get into Queens, I expect to wind up at one of Bartlomiej’s empty properties. We draw close to a neighborhood I recognize. It’s where all the Four Families’ married couples live. Now, that’s a trip and a half.

All the current senior members of the Mafia, the Cartel, and the mob grew up in the two same neighborhoods. Eventually, their parents had empty nests when the guys were single and on their own. A bunch of them lived in Manhattan, but as they got married over the last five years, not only did those couples move back into Queens, they all bought homes in the neighborhoods where their parents live.

When they were growing up, the district borders in the neighborhood meant they went to different elementary and middle schools, but they wound up together in high school. I did a full background check on all the major syndicate members. Obviously, it came back with scant details of their adult lives—plenty on their business and legal issues, just not them personally—but there were photos from different extracurriculars they did while they were in school together. It’s no surprise all of them were athletes in high school and college. None of them gained their physiques by sitting around or even by just going to the gym.

I might have recognized Shane the night we met if the lighting hadn’t been so poor. It also didn’t help that my eyes were nearly swollen shut.

I don’t know why we’re taking this route, but I pray it’s to my advantage. The syndicate community is gated, but there’s a car about to turn into it, forcing us to slow down. I unfasten my seat belt, praying it doesn’t make too much noise. Fortunately, Tymoteusz just lowered the privacy window to tell the driver to go around and to stop wasting time.

I pull on the door handle just as my belt slips from over my left shoulder. I bolt from the car, slamming the door shut behind me since the windows are bulletproof. It goes both ways. Just like a bullet can’t come into the car, a bullet can’t leave the car. In the time it takes for the driver to get the window down and the first shot fired toward me, I’m already through the gate. I’m running as fast as I can, even though I hear Tymoteusz and the guard at the gate yelling at me. Then Tymoteusz’s bellowing at the guard, demanding the guy let him in.

I look around, trying to get my bearings because I don’t know exactly which house is which. I don’t know who’s a syndicate member and who isn’t. But more likely than not, the house I pick’ll be one a member of the Four Families owns.

Almost all the houses have their own private gate. I spot a blonde man who’s just gotten out of his car. I know who he is.

“MISHA!”

I risk screaming and telling Tymoteusz where I am. He spins around, reaching for his gun. I put my hands in the air as I continue to run toward him. He sees the car pursuing me.

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