Page 99 of Mafia Redeemer

David blurts out the explanation as the four men, including Marco, surround me.

“How do you know?”

Marco’s the one to answer.

“Because we made sure the security company hired eight of our men to work here. We have someone watching the security monitors and at the front desk around the clock. Did they see who it was?”

David shakes his head as we join my colleagues and staff, trying to get into the hallway. We’re on the thirty-eighth floor. It’s a long way down by foot. If there really is a fire on the seventh floor, it will trap everyone above it. This isn’t something to fuck around with when it comes to New Yorkers in Manhattan. We enter the stairwell, and I don’t hear any panicked voices, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t a bunch of people reliving that day.

I’m in shape for the most part — at least I thought so before today — but I’m struggling by the time we reach the twenty-first floor. I’m winded, and my knees feel like they’ll give out. But the Mancinelli men haven’t broken a sweat, and they’re all in suits and ties. I know Enzo worked out twice a day before we started dating. He still works out at least once a day. Is it for shit like this?

I don’t know how Marco feels or hears his phone, but he pulls it out.

“Carmine, what’s going on?”

Marco’s quiet, but there’s no way I can hear anything other than footsteps on the stairs and everyone’s labored breathing. I don’t even notice when he hangs up because I’m clinging to the handrail and clutching David’s suit coat to keep from sliding the rest of the way down the stairs. Our progress is slowing as people struggle to keep going. Pure adrenaline propels me every time I think I can’t take another step.

It takes us nearly forty minutes to get to the lobby. That proves it was a false alarm since we’re all still alive to make it there so slowly. But that doesn’t seem to have registered with anyone but my guards and me. The panic and pushing started around the twelfth floor when we were so close yet so far away from the ground floor.

“We have a gathering place. I have to go, or they will list me as unaccounted for. The firefighters will have to search for me.”

I point toward Imogene, our office manager. The woman is in her sixties and sweating profusely, but she has her clipboard with the company roster. She’s calling off names, and I arrive just before she gets to mine.

“Michelle?”

“Here!”

I raise my hand and wave it over my head. I feel a hand wrap around my wrist and yank it down. I’m staring up at Alonzo, who looks at me like I’m an idiot. It’s his brother, Afonso, who explains.

“Don’t make it obvious where you are. We need to keep you lost in the crowd.”

I look over my shoulder at Marco, and his expression is grim, but I can tell he agrees. I look around as firemen flood the sidewalk, some going in and out of the building. Traffic’s backed up for blocks. Am I being watched? How long do we hide here?

Out of nowhere, Afonso staggers backwards as blood seeps through his sleeve. People notice and scream, but I don’t know what just happened. David just bolted in the direction the shot came from. Marco and Alonzo are dragging me down and away as more blood appears, soaking Afonso’s middle.

“Your brother! Go!”

I try to shake Alonzo off me, but he’s still pushing me through the mass of people. I trip, and Marco loses his hold on me.

“Go back!”

Alonzo still has hold of me, and I can’t believe he’s putting me ahead of his brother, who’s just been shot twice. His oath to the Mancinellis supersedes his love for his brother. I know how close they are. I twist away until the momentum of the crowd forces him to release me.

Marco shoves to get to me, but as I look around, I spot a cab that’s about to pull away from the curb when traffic opens up enough for his lane to move. It’s my turn to shove as I break out of the masses. I sprint to the cab and am in it before I know what I’m doing. I hear Marco and Alonzo calling my name. Then I see Alonzo turn back for his brother as Marco barrels toward me.

“Drive.”

“Where to?”

“Anywhere for now.”

I need to think for a moment. Was all of this done because of me? A fire alarm pulled only minutes after I get a threatening call. Then one of my bodyguards is shot twice. The preponderance of evidence would say I’m the reason. As much as I don’t want to die, the idea of putting Marco in a position where he might get shot too is so abhorrent that I had to get away from him. He’s a target as long as I’m near him, and I can’t be the reason one of Enzo’s brothers dies.

An idea comes to me as I think about what’s around me.

“Thirty-fifth, Midtown between tenth.”

I watch out the window as the chaos vanishes. It’s slow going, but we’re inching along. It’s not too long before I see the sign for the rental car place. I pay the driver and head into the business.

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