by Cindi Madsen
She picked up a knife and glided it through the tomato, making thin, even slices to place on top of the chicken. After that she’d sprinkle Parmesan cheese over the top and bake it for forty-five minutes. Add a salad and the loaf of crusty bread and they’d have an amazing meal.
She let out a long breath, trying to exhale her nerves and her worry over whatever was up with Vince. There’s not much food can’t fix.
The blare of the TV cut through her cooking Zen. Must be a cop show, because there was yelling and shooting.
Cassie leaned over the counter, trying to get a look at what all the racket was about without getting her dress messy. She needed to buy an apron now that she had a reason to cook full meals.
Onscreen, a man had a gun trained on another guy who had his hands up and was begging for him not to shoot.
A prickling sense of wrongness crept up Cassie’s spine and sent goose bumps across her skin. Admittedly, she’d never liked violent movies or shows, but this was… That odd déjà vu sensation that occasionally popped up since waking up in the hospital hit her full force.
An ache worked its way across her forehead.
She wanted to look away, just lean back to where she couldn’t see the TV, yet she stood, transfixed, waiting to see what’d happen. The man with the gun pulled the trigger, and Cassie jumped.
The guy fell backward and hit the ground, a bullet hole in his forehead. Cassie saw an image in her mind, so similar…
Juice from the tomato squeezed between her fingers, and when she glanced down at the red running in streams, she saw blood.
A man pleading for his life.
Vince’s face.
The man’s head snapping back.
Blood. So, so much blood.
A skull with a hole blown out the back of it, so misshapen and wrong.
The man who’d pulled the trigger…
A sharp pain shot across her head, and then the memory barreled at her like it meant to pin her in place and never let go.
Carlo Rossi. The rumors about him being a mob boss were true. Her heart rate hitched up a notch, each pump sending a burst of fear through her.
And Vince. The one person she thought she knew. The man she loved. Betrayal turned the blood in her veins to ice, slicing them open and spreading it through her entire body.
He had been there, too.
Chapter Thirty
Jim hung up the phone and rubbed his burning eyes, bouncing between cautiously excited and exhausted. He downed the last of his cold cup of coffee and waved at Mancini. “Apparently one of the tech guys found something. Let’s go take a listen.”
Jim tried to shake himself awake. Ever since they picked up Dante Costa, he and Mancini had been pushing hard, pulling late nights. Dante toyed with them, not lawyering up until the last minute, then flipping them off as they officially charged him.
Looked like he was going to make bail, too. With the cat about to be out of the bag that the FBI was watching, it was time to make a Hail Mary pass. If they couldn’t bring Rossi in on something major, might as well screw with his livelihood as much as possible.
The bastard’s slipping through our fingers. That same worry was written all over his partner’s face. While the tech guys often got excited over tiny things that didn’t add much to the case, Jim decided to try on optimism for once.
Maybe this time they’ve found something incriminating enough to use against Rossi in court. Or at least lead to a stakeout that’ll take him down.
And then I’ll do a cartwheel down the hall, no worry about throwing my back out.
Jim paused at the door to the tech room, almost scared to go in, because it could be nothing again, and he and Mancini couldn’t handle one more day of nothing. They both thought they had Dante; they’d been so close.
Close counted in horseshoes but earned you jack shit in detective work.
Jim held the door open for Mancini and followed him in. “You have something for us?”
Kent, one of the tech agents, turned up the speakers to his computer. “We picked up this off Salvatore Esposito’s cell. It’s from earlier today.” He pushed play, and they listened to a conversation between Carlo and Sal that sounded suspiciously like a hit had just been ordered.
“How long ago did he make that call?” Jim asked.
The tech guy winced, and Jim knew it wasn’t going to be good. “We’ve got so many calls, and we’ve been focusing more on Carl—”
“The time, Agent.”
“It was around four.”
Jim glanced at his watch and swore. “We’ve got to get to Cassandra Dalton’s place. Mancini, call for back up.” He pushed out the door, checking that his weapon was in its holster, despite the fact that he never took it off while he was on duty.
“We can’t let that girl die,” he said as he and Mancini sprinted toward the building’s exit.
But with how late it was, he worried they were already too late to stop it.
***
Vince closed the door to Cassie’s bedroom and worked the zipper on the duffel bag. He wished they had time to enjoy one last night together.
While he was wishing for shit, he wished everything could be different, actually. Now he had to rip away the future she’d planned, and he had a feeling she wasn’t going to make it easy. He’d turned on the TV, hoping to drown out the noise if she started yelling and freaking out.
What was he thinking? Of course she was going to freak out. Maybe he should go the tranquilizer route. Slip sleeping pills into her drink.
If he’d gone through with the original plan, it would’ve been easier. Now there were so many messy emotions involved.
He rounded the corner of the hallway. Cassie’s gaze was on the smashed tomato in her hand, her features completely drained of color. She had the knife raised like she’d forgotten to slice.
“Cassie?”
She swung the knife toward him, the blade glinting in the light. “Don’t come any closer.” Her voice trembled, and a tear ran down her cheek.
Vince put his hands up in front of him and took a slow step in her direction. “What’s wrong?”
“Stop right there!”
He froze, trying to figure out what was going on. He’d expected yelling, just not quite so soon. She shouldn’t already be mad. Unless…
“Why do you look so confused?” she asked, her voice an open wound. “You remember what happened, right? I just did. Mr. Rossi blew that guy’s head off, and you just stood there and watched. He pulled the trigger like it was nothing, like he’d done it before.”
Her chest rose and fell with rapid breaths, and a couple more tears slipped down her cheeks.
“Look baby, it’s not what you think.” Vince took another step, and she thrust the knife in his direction. It wasn’t a very big knife, maybe four inches, but he’d rather not get slashed with it all the same.
“Don’t you dare call me baby! Have you been…what? Playing with me? I told you everything. I fell in love with you.” Her eyes darted wildly around the room, from the counter to her left to the one on the right. She didn’t look behind her, but she was no doubt realizing the fridge and wall blocked her in, no possible escape route.
Working to keep his voice calm, he said, “I’ll explain, but we don’t have a lot of time. I’m guessing you remember everything?”
“Yeah, unfortunately for you I do.” She glanced at the door, most likely calculating her chances of leaping across the counter and making it there before he did. She wouldn’t. Especially not in that sexy getup.
“Listen to me, if you leave here, you’re dead. I’ve got a plan, but you need to let me explain.”
He could see the cracks forming—she wanted to believe him but wasn’t sure she could. He thought he’d felt guilt before, but it was nothing compared to the overwhelming rush he experienced right now. “Do you remember last night when I told you that I love you? I meant that. Cassie, you’ve got to believe me. It the most truthful thing I’ve ever said.”<
br />
Her bottom lip trembled, and another tear slipped down her cheek. It made him feel like the lowest piece of shit ever.
“I always liked you, even when we worked together,” he said.
“You never showed any interest.”
“I talked to you whenever I could. I nearly asked you out a dozen times. Surely you noticed the way I looked at you?”
A flicker of doubt crossed her features, and he grabbed on to it.
“But you were smart and sweet, and I didn’t want to involve you in my life, with my crooked family and the business they run on the side. Hell, I didn’t even want to be involved in my life.”
“Is that supposed to make it okay that you all kill people? Like, well, at least you don’t want to do it.” She took a step backward, and he fought the urge to close the distance again. If he could just get her to a place she felt safe, he could talk her down. Make her see.
“I’ve never killed anyone. I ran the restaurant—the legitimate business. But whenever Bobby got into trouble, Carlo would bail him out, and then he’d disappear before paying him back, so I’d have to repay his debts by convincing people to pay theirs. Most were scared enough of me that I didn’t have to get physical with them. I still felt horrible every time, and I told my uncle I didn’t want to be involved in that side of the business. But when you got out of the hospital, I overheard him and his boys talking about killing you.”
Cassie’s eyes widened, and she gripped the knife tighter, her arm shaking with the effort. “Carlo Rossi sent you here to kill me.”
Not a question. She knew. Might as well give it all to her. Then hopefully she’d believe him. “I volunteered, actually.”
She pressed her lips together, her chest caving in on itself like the words struck her. “This just keeps getting better and better.” With her free hand she wiped at her tears, but the knife remained aimed at his chest.
He almost pointed out that he could easily grab a much bigger knife from the block immediately to his right, but he doubted that would be comforting. “I told him I wanted to do it so it would be quick and painless, but I planned on taking you somewhere, changing your identity, and making sure you were safe. It was always the plan, I swear.
“But when I ran into you, you didn’t even remember me. So I talked Carlo into letting me keep an eye on you. The goal was to convince him to just let you live your life. I…I didn’t mean to get so close. But being with you let me forget who I am for a little while. I already liked you, and I just fell harder every day. I wanted to protect you, but I also just…wanted you.”
“I want to believe you, but I don’t. All you’ve done is lie and hide who you are. You…” Pain flickered through her features, and he wanted more than anything to pull her into his arms and tell her he’d fix it, whatever it took.
“I was going to explain everything tonight,” he said. “I knew it’d be hard to convince you and that you’d end up hating me, but we need to run, Cassie. The FBI is closing in on Carlo, which means he wants you dead. As soon as he told me to do it, I spent the rest of the day getting things ready. But we need to go now. I don’t know how long he’ll give me before sending someone else.”
She shook her head over and over.
He held his hands up a little higher. “Let me grab my duffel bag and show you the forged documents I had made so you can start over. You won’t make it out of the city without me, but once I get you out of Trenton, you can leave me behind. Just let me get you far, far away from Carlo first.”
He started to move for the bag, and she lunged forward, still wielding the knife. “Don’t,” she said. “I’m sure you have a gun in there, and I’m not going to let you get it out so you can shoot me.”
Fuck, that stung. “You really think I’d shoot you?”
“I don’t know. I don’t really know you at all, do I?”
The stinging deepened to a slicing, stabbing pain that took over his entire chest. He straightened and debated more explanation versus grabbing her arm, twisting it around, and disarming her. Explanation wasn’t getting him anywhere, yet he hated to hurt her. She’d also kick and scream. It’d be so much easier if he didn’t have to carry her out of the building that way; that’d definitely attract attention.
Then again, they didn’t have time for this.
Finally, he went with his instincts and took two large strides toward her. “There’s no way out but through me. What are you going to do, baby? Stab me and flee?”
“Yes,” she said, and he didn’t have the heart to tell her she was the worst liar ever.
A red dot flickered over her shoulder, moving toward her, and cold black dread seized him. “Cassie, get down now!”
When she didn’t move, he had no choice.
He dove on top of her. The knife slid into his side as a bullet hit the fridge, right where she’d been. When he lifted his head, Cassie’s nose nearly touched his. Her eyes focused on the knife in his side.
“I didn’t mean to,” she said, her words running together. “You—”
Another shot hit the fridge, lower this time. On the floor they were out of the line of sight, but that didn’t mean the sniper wouldn’t get lucky with a few blind shots.
Vince grimaced as Cassie pulled the knife out. Either it wasn’t that deep or adrenaline masked how bad it was. Maybe a combination of both. “Stay low, follow me.”
Vince army crawled around the counter and grabbed his bag. He motioned for Cassie to move, and thank God, she actually did. Placing his duffel and then himself in front of her, they crawled toward the door.
Pieces of the wall exploded and sent plaster raining over them, and whatever Cassie had on top of the counter slid off and shattered. Vince stretched an arm up to open the door, and a bullet hit so close that the wood cracked and splintered, and the knob came off in his hand.
He swung the door open with his foot. “Go, go, go!” he yelled, shoving Cassie toward the exit. Another shot hit the doorframe, only a few inches above her head. She let out a squeal but kept moving. Vince threw himself into the hall after her and kicked the door closed, even though it didn’t latch.
Even with his adrenaline running at full speed, the wound in his side started screaming for attention. Vince scooted away from the mangled door, breathing heavy and telling himself to get up.
He pushed to his knees, shouldered his duffel, and then reached down to check the cut. When he lifted his fingers, they came back slick and coated in red.
***
Cassie didn’t want to be holding the bloody knife, but not having a weapon seemed like a bad idea, so she kept a tight grip on it. She sat back against the wall, still in too much shock to yell or scream or run or…whatever she needed to do right now.
The gunshots must not have been very loud, because none of her neighbors opened their doors and poked their heads out to see what was happening. Then again, a lot of her neighbors were practically deaf and most likely already in bed.
Vince popped to his feet, grabbed her hand, and yanked her up. “We gotta move,” he said, starting down the hall.
She dragged her heels until he spun around.
“What? Why aren’t you moving?”
She jerked her hand away from him and crossed her arms. “Don’t what me. I still don’t know if I can trust you.”
“Which one of us is bleeding?” he asked, and her gaze dropped to the oozing wound in his side. That sickening, sucking noise the knife made as it exited his body would probably haunt her forever. “Why don’t you save deciding whether you trust me for after I get you out of here alive? Because our shooter’s not going to wait while you figure it out, and he might’ve brought backup.”
Well, when he put it that way, she didn’t have much of a choice. She quickened her pace, running for the elevator and cursing the fact that she chose tonight of all nights to wear her tallest heels. Vince pushed her on, toward the stairwell. “We’ll be sitting ducks in the elevator. We need to take the stairs.”
As
soon as they stepped into the stairwell, he unzipped his duffel bag and took out a pistol. “You want to put your knife in here?”
“I’ll keep it, thanks.”
Vince shook his head. “Come on then, Rambo.” He took her hand and started down the stairs. Ten flights. No problem. Only her damn dress didn’t really allow for stairs. The seam of the skirt ripped a few inches as she stretched it to its limit, and she went ahead and used her knife to help it along so she could move better, trying not to think about how the dark red on the blade was Vince’s blood.
Vince left a splatter trail of it as they ran, but before she could think too much about it, he nudged her forward. Her breaths turned shallow, one coming after another as her heart pumped double-time.
Floor five.
“You know how… the other day…” Speaking at this pace was nearly impossible. “I said I wanted our adventures to be less scary?”
Gun out, Vince looked down the stairwell. He put his hand on her elbow and started the descent to the next floor.
“If we get out of this alive,” Vince said, his breathing barely affected, “we’ll go somewhere super boring. You can get your degree and create culinary masterpieces.”
“As long as I’m never shot at again, I’ll work wherever.” She almost missed a stair and barely caught herself on the railing with her free hand. She allowed herself one quick inhale and pushed past the burning in her thighs.
One more floor to go.
“I’m guessing the reason we were shot at the night I first met you—well, met you for the second time—was because I witnessed the shooting in the alley?”
“Yeah, Sal got a little excited. That’s why I became your shadow for the past few weeks. Not that I didn’t enjoy it.” He cast her a quick glance, and the softness there made her want to cry all over again. She was still drawn to him but confused about if she should be anymore. “It’s also why I tried to convince you to go to a culinary college far away from here.”
