Page 17 of Savage Prince

This is a hostage situation.

The question is: what does Antonio Ferrara want?

As if he’s read my mind, he finally responds, “You’ll find out soon enough. For now, just sit back and enjoy the ride.”

I pretend to follow his commands and slide as far away from the guard sitting beside me as possible until I’m pressed up against the door. He has a gun at his hip, and I fully intend to snatch it from him as soon as I figure out a plan. A complete bar is stretched out in front of me, crystal tumblers and every top shelf liquor one could ask for. Alessandro would be in heaven with all the alcohol.

I tick my head toward the bottle of Grey Goose, impressed by my coolness despite the turn we just took onto Grand Central Parkway. I took this exact drive yesterday. We’re heading toward the airport and nothing good can come of that. “May I?”

“Prego.” He motions to the thug next to me. “Otto, make her a drink.”

“I’d rather make it myself, thanks. I don’t need your hired help slipping something in my beverage.”

“I’m insulted you think so little of me.”

“Well, you did resort to kidnapping so there’s that…”

With an exaggerated eyeroll, I unbuckle my belt, lean forward and grab a tumbler, slowly filling it with ice. The tongs have pointy tips and in a second, I’m going to jab them into Otto’s eyes. But before that, I need to solidify my next move. The slider between the front and back seats is closed, and in my experience, generally pretty soundproof. The limo slows, pulling toward the off ramp to LaGuardia, and I thankDiofor the perfect timing.Seems like someone up there is looking out for me.

Here goes everything. I drop the tumbler, and glass shatters across the floor. The next part happens so quickly, it’s nothing but a blur. With both men distracted, I whirl around and stab Otto in the face with the tongs. He lets out a shriek when the jagged end scrapes across his eyeballs, and I lunge for his gun.

Before Antonio can release his weapon from inside his jacket, I have the muzzle pointed at his head. “Now, I’m in charge,bastardo. Tell your driver to unlock the door.”

Otto is whimpering beside me covering his eyes and cursing up a storm. From my periphery, I can see the blood dribbling down his face.

“Do it!” I shout at Antonio, who’s staring at me wide-eyed. “Or I’ll shoot you in the face.”

“We’re on the highway, you can’t just jump out of the car.”

“We’re not actually.” I tick my head at the street ahead. Not only is there a stoplight but also a narrow sidewalk I can sprint down if I can just get the asshole to unlock the door.

He slides to the edge of the seat, and my finger tightens around the trigger. “Not an inch closer,SignorFerrara. I’d hate for Raf to become an only child.” I throw him a cheeky grin. “Now, tell the driver to unlock the damned door,” I growl.

His eyes narrow as he regards me for a long moment before his knuckles tap the divider. It slides open, and he hisses at the man upfront. “Unlock the back doors.”

“But—”

“Just do it,” he roars.

The unmistakable click ignites a flare of hope, and my smile grows wider. With my fingers closing around the door handle, I twist my head over my shoulder. Antonio’s glare is murderous, and I barely restrain a giggle. “Next time my profile pops up on Tinder, do me a favor, and don’t swipe right.”

I jerk the door open and leap out with the limo still moving. As sure of myself as I sounded, I’ve never actually jumped out of a moving vehicle, and I did not account for the intense momentum from the car, even going less than thirty miles per hour.

I hit the asphalt and my right ankle twists, sending shooting pain up my leg. “Fuck!” I grit out as I attempt to run across the street to the sidewalk in my sky-high heels. Adrenaline from the blinding pain courses through my veins, compelling my legs to keep moving. The sharp blasts of horns and angry shouts provide a steady symphony, but I ignore them all and weave between the vehicles.

I pause in front of a beat-up old van and wave wildly. “Help!” The man, who looks shadier than shit, drops his gaze and presses his foot on the gas, nearly running me over as he weaves around my stumbling form.Son of a bitch! The light turns green, and I’m shit out of luck as not a single car stops to help me. Which isn’t entirely surprising since it’s almost one o’clock in the morning and definitely not the best part of town. Withthis outfit, these drivers probably think I’m a freakingputtanalooking for a lift.

The slap of heavy footfalls behind me only escalates my pulse. I stagger between two more fleeing cars and finally hit the safety of the sidewalk. Hazarding a quick glance over my shoulder, I find Antonio racing after me, on two good legs. Dammit. I should have just shot him when I had the chance. I clutch the gun in my fist, but it’s not like I can just turn around and shoot the guy in the middle of the streets. Or should I?

The moment of indecision costs me valuable seconds, and by the time I start running, or more like, hobbling, he’s almost on me. My breath comes in ragged gasps, the balmy night air squeezing my lungs as I push myself into a sprint.

The sound of Antonio's rushed footfalls echoes behind me, a haunting rhythm to the chaotic pounding of my heart. I glance back; he's too close. Fear propels me forward, my mind racing as fast as my feet. I need to find cover, disappear into the shadows before he can reach me.

Merda! There’s nowhere to go. Only trees line the streets, stretching endlessly ahead, the sidewalk dotted with closed shops and darkened windows. With every step my ankle throbs in protest, but I can't stop. Not now. Not when my freedom is just within reach.

I can feel Antonio’s presence looming behind me, his ragged breaths nearly at the back of my neck.

“There’s nowhere to go,tesoro.” His shout is taunting, a hint of amusement in his tone.

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