Page 113 of Immoral

I sarcastically laugh. "Protect me from what?"

"Your husband. His family. Anyone else who's working for them who scares you."

I step closer to him and cross my arms. Tilting my head to meet his eyes, I snarl, "My husband and his family,my family, would never hurt me. No one who works for them would dare lay a hand on me."

"Do you realize what happens to women like you?" he asks.

"Women like me?"

"Yeah. One of two things happens. You either end up in prison or dead."

"I'm out of here," I claim, moving toward the door. I reach for the handle, and he presses his palm against the door.

"I can help you prevent all those things. All you need to do is help us out, and I'll give you full witness protection," he states.

I release the doorknob and gape at him.

His eyes widen. His voice turns fatherly. "Stop thinking it won't happen to you. All I need is for you to cooperate—"

"Listen to me closely. I will never—never—do whatever it is you want me to do. Whatever you're trying to pin on my husband, stop," I demand.

"Don't be stupid—"

"I'm ready to leave. Let me out," I order.

He clenches his jaw and doesn't move.

"Now," I seethe.

"Last chance," he states.

"No."

He shakes his head but removes his hand from the door and steps back.

I yank it open and practically race through the hallway and out into the main area. I don't stop until I step out into the fresh air. Five times I breathe deep then glance around.

I need to get home and talk to Angelo.

The cold air quickly seeps through my clothes and into my bones. I don't have a coat since I ran out of the fashion show without thinking. All I want to do is get away from this police station and figure out how to get Gianni out of there.

Oh God. He's still in there,I fret while walking down the street. Several taxis sit on the corner, so I move faster. I open the door and slide into the back of one. I give the driver the address to the Marino estate.

The taxi takes off, weaving in and out of traffic. I stare out the window, trying to calm myself from everything that just occurred, but I can't.

The gruesomeness of the photos sticks in my mind. I don't know if Gianni did it, but if he did, I assume the men deserved it. Regardless, I wonder if they actually have anything on him or if it was all a lie.

Angelo will take care of this. I just need to get home.

Based on where we're at in the city, it'll be at least another forty-five minutes with traffic. I lean my head back against the seat, closing my eyes and trying to quiet my mind. I almost fall asleep, but the car veers sharply, and the driver yells, "What the hell!"

My body tenses. Panicking, I open my eyes and sit up. "What's wrong?"

Several black SUVs surround us. One pulls near the left side of the car. The window rolls down, and a man sticks out a gun. He shoots, and a loud bang explodes in my ears.

Glass shatters, blood spurts everywhere, and the taxi driver's body slumps in the seat. I scream, and more shots ring in the air. The car drops, as if the tires are shot out, and scrapes on the pavement.

The SUVs stick with the taxi while it rolls forward until it slows to a stop. I lock the door, unsure what else I can do to escape whoever these men are, but it's pointless.

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