Page 13 of Primo DeLuca

The big bully leaned down and peeked into the window at the Uber driver, who looked like he was swallowing rocks at the sight of the bigger man. I wasn’t sure what was exchanged between the two, but when my abductor straightened his intimidating posture, the driver screeched away, almost getting hit by an oncoming car.

I continued my useless struggling while being dragged closer to the back of the big black SUV that I should have been more suspicious of when it drove up and parked. The big hulking man with me in his tight grip opened the back door.

It took little effort on his part to manhandle me. First, he spun me to face him before he got a good grip under my arms and lifted me into the back of the vehicle, even as I kicked and screamed like a madwoman.

As soon as my butt landed on the smooth dark leather, my imposing captor climbed in after me. He used his body to shove me further into the vehicle and closed the door.

He didn’t say a word but flashed me that glare a mother flashes at a child who’s been acting up. The driver was a small figure shrouded in black who merged into traffic with ease.

Why hadn’t I listened to Primo? Now, I was being taken and had no idea if it was by his guys or his enemies.

“What do you guys want? I don’t know anything. I’m a nurse who works long hours and double shifts because I live a boring life and would rather be at the hospital helping my patients than socializing.”

The man lifted a brow while the driver glanced back and winked, revealing that she was a woman.

“We are DeLucas. You’re safe with us as long as you’re with Primo. But there is no telling what will happen to you if you wander off and end up in the wrong hands.”

The news calmed me a little, but a big problem remained. If these guys were who they said they were, it meant Primo had spoken the truth. It meant my whole lifestyle was about to go from boring as hell to hell on earth.

What the hell was I going to do now?

I breathed through my anxiety and did what I did best when I was in a troubling situation. I chanted every motivational saying I knew with prayers thrown into the mix. The mental self-therapy session left me unnervingly still, so much so I sensed my escorts watching me. They probably thought I was crazy.

***

Assassins?

I was usually underestimated because I looked about as innocent as I acted. It was an assumption I preferred. Most people automatically assumed I didn’t know certain lingo or street terminology. People who looked at me didn’t see someone who knew how to use a gun or could hold my own in a fight.

In the case of my current abductors, I had gathered enough from the big guy's conversation on the phone to know that these two were sister and brother and assassins for the DeLuca family.

The man never outright said the word assassin, but the context clues painted me a clear enough picture. Words and phrases like, receiving assignments, security, lists, and eliminating targets was more than enough for me to jump to my current conclusion. Add to that, he referred to the driver as “Sis” in an endearing tone.

In families like this one, the security team was code for killers. And not the lame ass wanna-be killers either. They were the big bad ass ones who wiped out whole families and went out and had drinks afterwards. They were the ones who took out the trash, struck down the family enemies, and provided protection when and wherever the family needed it.

And here I was, plucked from the streets against my will and shoved into the back of what I was willing to bet was a bulletproofed SUV with no idea where I was being taken.

If my heart fisted any harder it would cease up in my chest. I prayed that Primo and I had made a genuine connection and these two were truly members of the DeLuca family, ones who Primo trusted. Otherwise, I was going to have to out think two trained killers to live to see the next day.

“He’s an asset until he isn’t anymore. We’ll need him to provide the codes, after which, he will no longer be of any use to us,” the big guy told his sister.

They were talking about whoever he had just been having a phone conversation with.

“I know, but I could use him in the future. You think he’ll be more trouble than he’s worth if we keep him around longer than we projected?”

Why were they speaking so freely in front of me, not only about who they were in relation to the DeLuca family but who they were planning to take out? Was it because they were planning to kill me and it didn’t matter what I knew about them?

The big guy, though sitting in the back with me, was on and off the phone and working on some type of tablet during our drive. Other than communicating on the phone and with his sister, he only cast me a few fleeting glances.

The SUV idled, slowing in this upscale residential neighborhood we were rolling through. My eyes bucked and my head jerked around in every direction, attempting to push my vision through the darkness outside to see landmarks and street signs.

Although I was born and raised in St Louis, I wasn’t familiar with this area or neighborhood. I couldn’t recall an exit number from the interstate either.

My phone.

They hadn’t taken my phone which was still shoved into my back pocket. I could at least be tracked and if given a chance, I could call 911. But was I truly in trouble?

Of course I was in trouble. After walking in on a mob meeting in progress, I was claimed by a mob boss, and was now a hostage to who I assumed were two of the family assassins.

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