Stepping out of the elevator, I glanced around, searching for Santi.
“I don’t see him,” I said, looking over my shoulder at Adriano.
He frowned, his eyes searching out the lobby. “He was just here,” he muttered.
“Why didn’t he just come upstairs with you?” I questioned him, my eyes roaming around as if Santi would appear out of thin air.
“You know how he is.” He shook his head. “Hates anything to do with your grandmother. He didn’t want to run into her.”
True. Santi didn’t like her, but he usually didn’t avoid anyone.
“Hmmm.” I continued my way towards the lobby exit door. I went through the roundabout circle door and found myself on the concrete, the sounds of the city and cars honking filling the air.
New Yorkers never even paused to throw me a glance. Men and women in suits rushed to their destinations, whether to homes where their families awaited, dinner dates, or parties.
I went to turn around when something pressed hard against my back.
“Don’t move or I’ll end you right here.” Disbelief washed over me.
“Adriano?” I whispered, my mind struggling to understand what was going on.
A black SUV pulled up in front of us, and a tall man I had never seen before stepped out. I watched in horror as he came around and opened the back door to the car.
Stupid! So stupid!
I should have kept DeAngelo with me. The entire time.
“Miss,” the guy holding the door called out. “Please get in.”
My eyes traveled over him. He wore a Dolce & Gabbana black suit with matching shoes. He seemed young, though apparently old enough to be kidnapping people.
I should have known only a man wearing Dolce & Gabbana would be a criminal and traitor. Gangsters seemed to like Dolce. They had to kill in style and die in style.
“Get in, Amore.” The barrel of the gun at my back pressed harder. Adriano’s voice was rough. Jesus, what has happened?
Frantically, my eyes searched for anyone familiar. But nobody even paid attention to us, no one wanted eye contact in this city.
“Now,” he rumbled. “Or I’ll have you bleeding on the concrete.”
Getting into that car was the worst thing I could possibly do. Before I could say another thing, he shoved me into the car. I stumbled, my knees hitting the floor of the car while my purse landed on the street. I went to scream, to make some noise, anything when Adriano’s hand covered my mouth.
Fuck, where is the security when you need them!
I struggled against him, kicking out, sinking my teeth into his hand, but it was for naught. He was much stronger than I was and held me at an angle that prevented me from elbowing him in the ribs the way DeAngelo taught me.
Jesus Christ!It almost looked like he was humping me. Only in New York would nobody even blink at a scene like that.
He slammed the door behind me. I started screaming, banging on the glass but it was useless. It appeared the damn SUV had bulletproofed glass. The driver and Adriano climbed in.
“Stop screaming, or I’ll just shoot you,” he growled, never turning back. “He’ll be pissed off he doesn’t get to finish you off himself, but he’ll get over it. He wants you dead anyhow.”
My eyes widened.
Who?I wanted to ask. George Anderson?
Was he really still alive? Or was it someone else? I didn’t know. Ever since our last trip to Venezuela, I've become too lax. So stupid! Probably the reason why I’d never succeed in running a cartel business. I’d get killed the first week on the job. And by none other than my best friend. How did things between us go so wrong?
Damn it! That was a stupid and careless decision to send DeAngelo ahead of me. I prayed that DeAngelo would get impatient and come looking for me. Unfortunately, he was an incredibly patient man.