Page 68 of Craving Danger

Thorns of fear prick at my skin, and the words just fall over my lips, “Don’t hurt my family. Please. I’ll be back on the eighth.”

He lets out an annoyed-sounding sigh. “It wasn’t a threat, Miss Blakely. I won’t touch your family. You need the break, and I hope you enjoy your vacation.”

Oh.

When I keep quiet, he adds, “I don’t kill innocent people, and I’ll never hurt you.”

Too brave for my own good, I ask, “What will happen if I resign as your assistant?”

“I won’t accept your resignation, Miss Blakely. Have a safe flight. I’ll see you on the eighth of July.”

The call ends, and lowering my trembling hand, I watch as the screen goes black.

Shoving the phone into my handbag, I grab my luggage and rush out of my apartment. As if all the demons from hell are chasing me, I hurry to the subway.

I need to get away from New York and the Cosa Nostra. In Seattle, I’ll be able to think clearly and make sense of the mess I find myself in.

When I walk through the doors at the airport, Mom catches my attention by jumping up and down.

During the six-and-a-half-hour flight, I focused on calming myself down, but as I walk to my mother, my emotions are all over the place, and I can’t stop the tears from falling.

When I reach her, we hug, and I cling to my mother.

She notices I’m crying and coos, “Aww, sweetie. What’s wrong?”

“I just missed you.”

It’s only half a lie. I did miss her.

She pulls back, and smiling at me, she wipes my tears away with the pads of her thumbs. “You need to visit more often.”

I nod, and as we walk to the exit, I say, “If I had more vacation time, I would.”

When we reach Mom’s Prius, I feel a little better.

I’m going to put on the best performance of my life so I don’t worry my parents. They can’t find out about Mr. Vitale being a mob boss or that we were attacked yesterday.

Once we’re both seated in the car and Mom’s driving away from the airport, she asks, “Are you tired from the flight?”

I shake my head. “No. I napped a little.”

“Oh, good. Do you want to go shopping? I want to get some things for the Fourth of July.”

“Sure.”

She grins at me before turning her attention back to the road. “The whole neighborhood decided to BBQ in the park.”

I inject some excitement into my voice. “That sounds nice.”

“Oh, did I tell youMs. Jameson and Mr. Parkergot married?”

“Wow. Seriously?” I gasp.

The elderly couple have been on and off for as long as I can remember, so I’m surprised to hear they finally got married.

“Yes. They eloped in Vegas.” Mom scrunches her nose. “But they’re still living in separate houses. Every night, Ms Jameson shouts at Mr. Parker to come over for dinner.”

I let out a chuckle. “You mean Mrs. Parker, or is she keeping her last name?”

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