Page 209 of Dangerous as Sin

“Grab her.”

I reverse course and race toward Ciro’s office.

A bullet ricochets off the floor, causing me to screech to a halt. They’ll shoot me if I keep going.

I begin to shake. I grew up on white bread and bicycle rides, Sunday dinners and county fairs, loving parents and a community where everyone looked out for each other. In a safe world, until cancer and later murder shattered the illusion. But even that could never prepare me for something like this.

“Cazzo. Stop shooting.” Scarface glares at the kid. “Call the boss and let him know we’ve got a situation.”

The kid makes a face. “Stai scherzando?”

“Do I fucking look like I’m kidding you?”

“He might not feel up to taking a call.”

Scarface glares at him, unwaveringly, until the kid pulls out his phone.

I’m grabbed by the arm, dragged back to the foyer, and pushed to the floor. I fall backward, my head hitting the cement floor.

Ciro swings like a piñata overhead, blank eyes staring off into nothingness.

I sit up, but my fingers feel sticky. Blood. Ciro’s blood. I’m covered in it. Panicking, I wipe my hands on my shirt. “Oh, gross, gross, gross.”

“Shut up,” Scarface warns.

Horrified, I glance around, only to discover two men pointing guns at me. All six men are wound tight.

Mafioso … they have to be.

“You the girl who left earlier?” Scarface demands.

So, I was being followed. “Yes.”

“Tough luck, then.” He shakes his head. “You should have stayed gone.”

The kid’s anxious voice draws everyone’s attention. “Boss. Hi. Yeah, sorry to bother you.” He shuffles on his feet. “An employee interrupted us.”

Scarface’s cheek tics while the men listen intently. Whoever their boss is, the man terrifies them.

The kid begins stuttering. “Yeah, yeah, I followed her. I thought she was gone for the day. We locked the building up good and tight like you said. She must have come in through the back.” There’s a lengthy pause. “No. Nothing on Conti. But we’ve got some files you’ll wanna see.”

I draw in a breath, then gag, the stench of blood unbearable.

Will I be covered in my own blood next?

“Yes, I understand. We won’t leave until we’ve collected every fucking paper.”

The men exchange worried looks. Soldiers, isn’t that the term for lower-ranking mafioso? And the kid did address the man on the phone as “boss.”

“Ask him if I can call my grandparents back in Marietta before …”

Surprised is the only word to describe their reaction, and my heart sinks. But I had to try, not wanting to leave this world without telling my grandparents I love them one more time.

The kid laughs, then immediately looks ready to cry. “No. No, I don’t think this is funny. It’s just … she’s asking to call her grandparents in motherfucking Marietta, wherever the hell—” The kid stops, frowns, then is raking his eyes over me. “Brown hair. Short, like five foot three. Really pretty, even with blood all over her.”

There’s a short pause.

I blink when he passes me his cell phone.

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