Page 48 of Brutal Legacy

I crept along the row of desks and sewing machines, past the heavy-duty iron we used to press the designs and the cutting table. My legs cramped at the position I was rolled into, but I pushed the discomfort out of my mind. This was serious, and there was a good chance I wasn’t going to be leaving here under my own control.

I nearly made it to the stairs. I was so close. Whether I’d have really gotten out, typed in the security code, and pushed the metal grate up in time, I’d never know.

I never got the chance to find out.

Hard arms wrapped around me from behind, and a hand clamped over my mouth, sealing in my sound of surprise.

I wriggled and fought, but the grip was too damn strong.

“You might want to cut it out, unless you want to die here tonight,” a deep, familiar voice murmured in my ear.

My mercenary. He pulled me against him, holding us flush against a wall near the coffee maker about five feet from the stairs.

“Who are they?” I whispered when he finally removed his hand from my mouth.

“Friends of your father, or I should say former friends. They might be under the impression that he sent you the information that would sink their boss, should your father meet an untimely end in prison.”

“What? They think my father made me his insurance?” I could have laughed. “I told you we don’t really talk.”

“Still, who else does Alfredo Bellisario have in this world, other than his precious only daughter? Are you trying to lie to me that he hasn’t sent you anything? I see you, Georgia… I’m always watching.”

The man was just as tall and broad as I remembered. Being pressed against his chest, the promise of his protection, shouldn’t have been a comfort. But it was. It felt like gaining an unexpected ally. Getreal.I had given the police this man’s description and tried to get him arrested for murder. There weren’t any warm and fuzzy feelings from his side.

“That’s why Renato wants me, too, isn’t it? My father could expose everything Salvatore has been up to in Napoli for decades… He could cut a deal and fuck the De Sanctis family in return.” I knew in my bones I was right. My father had never really cared much about anyone but himself. Of course he’d cut a deal and hang me out to dry.

“What if I told you that your father wants Renato to protect you?”

I scoffed softly. “Protect me? So they sent you? The Terminator? You just want to use me to scare him, right?”

The man was staring down at me, and for a second, I thought he might answer. It was an obvious one. I knew I was right. It was just the way things worked in our world.

“Would you rather I handed you over to the other guys? I can do it right now. The gang’s all here… I could hand you over and be back in New Jersey tomorrow and forget you ever existed.”

“Then you’d fail your little mission, and I have a feeling that’s important to men like you,” I said, raking my gaze over him. He had to be former military; there was no mistaking his upright carriage and the precision of his movements.

“Men like me?”

“Rule followers. Mercenaries. I’ve met toasters with more empathy,” I blurted out before I could stop myself.

He studied me and then grinned. There was more warmth in an ice storm.

“In that case, why don’t you decide who you want to go with. Them, or me. Decide now. I’m happy to break the rules and give you up, if that’s what you choose.”

My throat tightened, swallowing the rush of words I wanted to spit at him. But in reality, what could I say?

“Come on, Signora Conti, choose. Them, or me.” His arms tightened around me.

“Don’t call me that,” I muttered, distracted by my impending doom. I had no idea what the other men wanted, but this one was taking me to Renato De Sanctis. At least that would buy me time… and I knew Renato. He’d never been a true monster.

“Fine, I choose you. Take me to Renato and let me plead my case. I know him. He won’t kill me.” I raised my chin and tried to feel as confident as I sounded.

My mystery man tilted his head to the side. “If you think that’s the worst he could do, you’re going to be sorely disappointed. Now, where do you keep the knives in this place?”

“Knives? Don’t you have a gun?” I was distracted from his ominous warning by his question. There were dangerous men sneaking into the building as we spoke, and he didn’t have his gun?

“Yeah, because I’m going to wander around LA while the cops are looking for me, carrying a murder weapon. Great idea. No, I don’t have a gun, but I don’t need one for these fuckers. Kindly direct me to something with a sharp edge.”

“There has to be at least ten of them,” I said.

---