by Box Set
She had to use the back door unless she found a window she could open. Then again, they were probably alarmed, too. She had no way of knowing if anyone else was coming tonight. The door was solid, with only a tiny peephole. At least she’d be able to tell if someone was right outside the door. She sidestepped back to the hallway, pulled the hoodie’s drawstring tight and then started creeping down it without using the flashlight. Once she hit the section with all the equipment, she dropped into a back corner and took a bunch of long, deep breaths to recover from holding her breath as she slinked from the front of the store to her new position.
Kate remained for a few minutes longer, gathering courage. She stood and made her way to the entrance to the hallway. She pushed her back up against the wall and started taking more shallow breaths. She entered the hallway. Only twenty feet and she was home free. The door to the alley opened, an arm pushing it inward. She darted back, her heart thundering against her ribs. She glanced to the far corner and wondered if she could get there without making a sound. There was a window with a latch. She could probably fit through it, but it was most likely wired.
She heard male voices, but they didn’t seem to be coming nearer. Just in case, she inched her way along the wall, trying hard not to breathe. She heard one door shut and then another. Was she alone again? Were more people coming? She knew she had to act fast. She scurried with silent feet to the hall. It was empty. She moved quickly to the door leading out and peeked out the peephole. She couldn’t see anyone, and the peephole seemed to give her a pie slice view of the alley. Thinking she’d verified no one was out there, she opened the door.
Two large goons stood to the side of the door talking to each other. She popped her head back in, but it was too late, the goon facing her had seen her and she’d seen him. She pushed on the door and it clicked shut, she could only hope they didn’t have a keycard. She dashed to the only room she’d seen a possible escape. The bakery portion of the business. She pushed a cart up to the window and climbed on top, the folder and notebook pushing into her ribs as she bent. Someone banged on the door. So they didn’t have a key. That would give her a few precious seconds. Alarm or not, she had to get out that window or she was dead. That mafia documentary told her that much. Her hand slipped on the window lever, and it wouldn’t budge. She used her elbow to slam down on it, and it started to give as someone down the hall shouted, “What’s going on?” Someone from the secret room must’ve come out into the hall. She slammed harder with her elbow. She would have a terrible bruise.
The window fell open, and she pulled herself almost all the way through. She heard something hit the floor inside and she paused. A hand grabbed her foot. She kicked. Inside, people were yelling, but she couldn’t make anything out over the blood rushing through her ears. She kicked again and made contact with something hard. She fell out the window, one hand barely keeping hold of the window casing. She cried out as her body weight jerked her to a very temporary stop before she continued to the ground. She had sense enough to roll once her feet hit, but the balls of her feet still stung and her shoulder throbbed.
Pushing all discomfort to the back of her mind, she popped to her feet and started to run. A bullet zinged off the cement beside her. She ran for her life, bullets spraying about her. She turned a corner but knew being out of sight wouldn’t stop them. A taxi sat on the street in front of a small motel. She climbed in.
“I am taken. Sorry.”
“I’ll pay you double the fare with a tip if you drive now.” She pulled on her hoodie to keep her identity secret, but there was no hiding the fact that she was a girl from the cabbie.
His eyes popped wide. “I don’t want any trouble.”
She peeked out the back of the cab and saw one of the two men from outside the back door of the bagelry whiz around the corner. “Triple,” she yelled. “But don’t drive away fast.”
“For that, you got it.” He pulled away from the curb and drove off as if he was carrying a normal fare. Kate lay on the floorboards out of sight, her breaths coming out in ragged, breathy pushes and pulls. Her arm screamed in pain, but she clenched her jaw to keep in any possible screams.
“We have driven two blocks. No one is following us. They went into the hotel. They will soon know you commandeered someone else’s cab. I suggest you tell me where to go before I am ordered to return you. Those were Bellini men, weren’t they?”
“Just take me to the boardwalk please.” She spoke through those clenched teeth.
“I’m sorry. I’ll have to tell them I took you here if I’m asked, which I will be. Those Bellini men get what they want when they want it. Be careful.” He drove quickly to the destination.
She gave him the cash, glad to find she had enough and then rubbed her shoulder, the pain was increasing. Her arm didn’t seem to work right. “Quadruple the fare. Thank you.”
The sheer agony in her shoulder would not be ignored any longer. She supposed adrenaline had kept her from feeling the pain of it earlier. She headed the opposite direction she planned on going. If she had been able to buy the driver, Bellini’s men, with their mob money, would own him. She had to give them a false trail. As soon as he was out of sight, she ran back the other direction. That’s when she remembered she couldn’t simply walk back into her hotel. She ducked behind some garbage cans and texted Ellie, 911. She gritted her teeth to stop the uncontrollable desire to scream out.
No response. She texted Colby. Still no response. Where were they? She couldn’t rely on anyone. She called the hotel and asked for the doorman. He was no longer on duty. “This is Ellie Lambert from Suite 804. I need safe passage into the hotel. I don’t want to be seen by the paparazzi.”
The man said, “One moment please.”
With the adrenaline leaving her and sweat dripping down her forehead, she started to chill. She pulled her legs up tight against her and rocked to distract herself from the pain. She was very aware of the folder under her hoodie.
“Ms. Lambert. We have a car to pick you up and to bring you to the laundry. Where can they find you?”
She stood up and found a street sign. She gave him the coordinates. “They will be there in five minutes in a white laundry van. There will be no markings on it.”
“Thank you,” she said. She put her hand on her forehead and sighed. Her T-shirt clung to her skin under the hoodie and she adjusted the folder. She hugged herself, tucking her head low to avoid the wind. She bit on the sleeve of Duran’s hoodie. It seemed to help with the ever-growing pain. Pounding feet headed her way. She jerked to attention. The two hulking men from the bagel shop thudded their way down the boardwalk. She slunk down and around the corner to avoid them, but they spotted her. They were faster than they should have been.
A big white van pulled down the street and she took off toward it, glad she still had the hoodie on and couldn’t be recognized. The man driving the truck saw her running toward him and in the sparse light she could just make out his frantic effort to lean over and open the van door for her. As she slipped behind the door, a shot pinged off the edge of it. The driver swore and started to drive. “Wait!” she yelled, grabbing on to the seat and planting her feet on the foot ledge. He swung around, the door swinging wide before hitting into her backside and bouncing back out, leaving her completely exposed to the Bellini men. Shots zinged all around her. She screamed and the van completed its turn before the driver floored it, racing down the street. Kate held on for dear life until he turned right. It gave her the momentum she needed to pull herself in and shut the door. She buckled up and sighed.
“Who in the hell were they?” The man driving the van asked.
“Paparazzi?” she said. Her inflection made it sound like a question instead of a statement.
“I hate to break it to you, but the paparazzi usually don’t shoot at you with bullets, only cameras.”
“Thank you for coming for me. If you hadn’t, I most likely would have been dead.” She moaned, her arm aching worse than any injury s
he’d ever experienced.
“Ya think?” He swallowed hard. “I don’t make enough for this. You need a body guard.”
“You might be right,” she mumbled before lifting her head. “And you might want to lay low for a while.”
“Great. Just great. The hotel better provide security for me. I didn’t sign up for this.”
“I’m sorry. Neither did I.” She could feel the folder under the hoodie and as desperately as she wanted to remove the hoodie, she didn’t. She didn’t really want the guy to know what she looked like. He pulled into the laundry area of the hotel and Kate climbed out. “If the hotel won’t take care of you, let me know and I will.” She hoped the Lamberts would be able to do something for him, anyway.
He nodded and swore over and over. She took the laundry elevator up to her floor and was pleased to find the hall empty. Once inside the suite, she called out for the Lamberts as she pulled the folder out from under the hoodie and put it on the table. She called out again. When no answer came, she undressed right there before grabbing a robe from her room and putting it on. She couldn’t get her arm inside the robe. She needed a doctor. She rubbed her shoulder, but it seemed to make it hurt worse, so she dialed for a massage. She texted Ellie. Where are you?
A message came in from Ellie a moment later. I’m sooo glad you’re safe. My mom insisted we go over to Sassy’s night club. We couldn’t get out of it. The cast from Never Give Up is there. Here for the funeral. Did you get what you needed?
Kate shook her head, then texted back. Can you come back? I need you.
I’ll ask.
Kate had started whimpering from the pain in her shoulder.
Ellie texted, My mom said I should have woken you up and brought you. I don’t want to get you in trouble. What’s wrong?
If Kate told her the truth, she’d come, but at what expense? Ellie’d lied to her parents and covered for Kate. She’d get them in a lot of trouble. She owed this family so much, she didn’t want to cause any more problems. I guess it can wait until you get back.
I’d tell you to call me, but I wouldn’t be able to hear what you said. What did you find out? I’m dying here.
Kate replied, He’s my dad. She’s my mom. No doubt. She was an agent. Well, maybe. Her picture with snitch written across it. Did your parents find anything out?
They filled out a report. The office said it could take up to two weeks for answers.
Great. So nice of the FBI to be so punctual. I’ll see you later. Wake me this time no matter how early it is.
There was a knock at the door. It was the masseuse. He confirmed that the shoulder was out of its socket, but massaged the rest of her body. Kate called the concierge to locate a doctor who would make a house call. When he arrived, it only took a minute to put the shoulder back into place, but the bill was five hundred dollars. Truth was she would have spent three times that to fix the problem, but she was down to one hundred dollars. Her life savings gone, searching for her parents and what had it gotten her? At least she had the money from the show. She gave the doctor the money. He instructed her to ice for twenty minutes and heat for ten for the next several hours.
She sat at the table to do the icing. Her hands shook as much from the cold as the fear that coursed through her. She looked at the picture of her mom, her face X’ed out and then looked for the photo of herself. It was gone. That must’ve been the object that fell when she climbed out of the window.
She reached for Duran’s keycard. It wasn’t in her right pocket or her left. She thought back, patting herself down, trying to locate it. Then she remembered. She’d had it in her hand when she’d seen those goons outside. Had she dropped it? No. This couldn’t be happening. In about an hour, Duran would be heading for work, puzzled by the fact that he didn’t have his keycard. He’d think he left it in the shower at work or something. Maybe she’d dropped it just inside the back door. Maybe he’d borrow a keycard from someone, and he’d find his when he came into work. Then again, maybe the Bellinis had found it and thought he was the one used to sneak into the store. She looked at the discarded hoodie. Would they have seen Duran in that hoodie? Did they already think she was Duran? No. They couldn’t. He was much taller than she was, and they never called out his name. Surely they wouldn’t have made that mistake.
22
After grabbing a drink, she sat back down at the table and opened the folder she’d taken. She moved the picture of her mom to the side to reveal the papers beneath, being careful not to move her fixed arm too much. A few handwritten notes were included, but that was all. The first one looked like a page ripped out of a journal. The date at the top was fifteen years previous.
Only two more weeks, and we’ll be free. I wish I could tell him. I’m sure he wants something better just like me. He has to. Who would want to be ruled by an iron fist by choice? He might be mad when he finds out, but that will quickly fade when he discovers we will be finally free.
Kate’s birth mother must have been deep undercover to have lived with Vinny long enough to have had a baby with him. The next paper looked like the first, only with a date a week and a half later.
It’s only a few days before the trial, and I’m scared. I keep thinking I’m being watched or that they know. But they can’t. I’m being protected, and I have to believe God is protecting me, too. These people. . . I can’t wait to free us.
The other pieces of paper included a ballet ticket, an opera ticket, a subway ticket, and a receipt from what must’ve been an expensive restaurant. The bill was two hundred dollars for two people. And last were two locks of hair, one darker and coarser and the other fine and lighter, but still dark brown. Each had a small piece of twine tied into a knot around them. Her birth mother’s hair? Her hair? She thought about the FBI’s response and the idea that it would be at least two weeks for any answers. It wasn’t fast enough.
Her finger traced the outline of her mother’s face and she stared into her eyes. “You are my mother, aren’t you?” Tears rolled down her cheeks. She stood up, her shoulder aching. She got some fresh ice from the freezer. She looked at the clock. It was already two in the morning. Duran would be heading to work soon. She almost texted him but realized she had no reason since she didn’t have his keycard. To her surprise, he texted her.
Hey. You up?
She started to text him back but stopped. Should he know she was still awake? Would he suspect her of using his keycard?
A few minutes later, another text came through. I didn’t think you would be, but I can’t find my keycard. I was hoping you could check the hoodie pocket and see if it somehow got stuck in there or something. My boss is going to kill me if I don’t find it. Anyway, when you get up, if you could check, I’d appreciate it.
She let out a hard breath, glad she hadn’t texted him back. She’d wait for a respectable time tomorrow and text him.
Ellie didn’t text back.
About twenty minutes later she got a text from Duran again.
Looks like someone broke into the bagelry. This is going to be a long night.
Kate’s heart sank. A terrible thought occurred to her. What if the shop could tell which card opened the door? It most likely could. She’d wanted to get in and out without anyone knowing, but that’s not what happened. Now Duran was going to get into trouble—because of her. She hit her fist on the table, her eyes lingering on the hoodie. They could think it was him simply because she had worn his hoodie.
Dread hit into her like a locomotive. She moaned, thinking about the videos and what the mafia did to those that crossed them. They killed first and then asked questions. And Duran, innocent, kind Duran walked into work without any idea that he was in danger. She looked at the hoodie and then at the picture she’d added to her phone of the two of them at the carnival. She’d put him in some serious danger and that wasn’t right. It was two forty-five.
She needed an excuse for showing up at the bagel shop. It would mean putting herself in danger too, but she wouldn’t
be able to live with herself if she didn’t fess up and he got killed or something. She had to go try to save him. She had to. She slipped the hoodie back on and left a note for the Lamberts.
They caught me, but I got away. I found this folder. Now I have to go try to save Duran.
-Kate
23
Kate called a cab. She didn’t care if the paparazzi recognized her. Maybe a few of them would follow her and get the confrontation on film so her family would know what happened to her. So her birth mom could be proud of her for acting with honor as she died. She wasn’t giving up, but the graphic videos of mafia hits played through her mind. She had decided on a story and would stick to it. That was all she could do. She left the folder and her journal for the Lamberts.
No one followed her. In fact it was like no one even noticed her. While in the car, the radio show host was talking about Jace’s death. Her heart swelled with grief. It would probably be her in a few hours. Jace’s funeral was tomorrow, and she would miss it. She needed it, though. She needed a chance to say goodbye, to tell him face to face that she was sorry, that she did care about him and she was sorry she misjudged him. The cab pulled in front of the shop and dropped her off. Tough looking guys stood out front, but not the ones who had followed her. They stared at her as she walked around to the back alley. The two guys who had chased her stood by the back door with three others, all smoking and talking in low voices. Most likely Duran’s cousins. They didn’t notice her until she was only fifteen feet from them.
“Looking for me?” she asked. The men stared in complete astonishment. “I’ve come to turn myself in.” She saw the door with the store name on it. What would she be up against behind that door?