by Lara Swann
It was just that all the fear and uncertainty that I pushed aside around other people always came back to haunt me. It put a lie to all those things and reminded me that I was human. Average. Fragile. I’d get over it, and I sure as hell wouldn’t let anyone else see it. But it didn’t change that it was there - and true.
Whatever I wanted to believe about myself, at the end of the day…there was nothing special there.
And that sarcastic, snarky voice in the back of my mind wasn’t going to let me forget that I was just the daughter of a powerful family. Someone by association only - certainly not by anything I’d ever done.
I breathed deeply as I let the hateful thoughts subside, shuddering with the crippling despair for a few small moments until I managed to get it under control. As I focused on my breathing, my eyes glanced back to the mess I’d made of the room, the bedframe stood awkwardly on its side behind me.
Hey, at least you got this far, right?
After forcing a couple more positive thoughts, I managed to stand up again, shaking my head slowly. Maybe I wasn’t the sort of person who could get herself out of crazed situations like this, but I could keep trying.
Giving the bed a wry glance, I let my mouth tuck up in a smile.
It’s not like you’re getting any sleep, hmm?
“You’re going crazy, Alessa.” I muttered to myself as I moved over to the desk again.
Apparently waiting alone and helpless after witnessing a murder and being kidnapped wasn’t good for my mental health - if the way voices kept snarking in my mind and I was starting to talk to myself was any indication. I resisted the manic laugh that welled up in me at the thought and sat down on the chair - pulling the bed behind me with a wince at my wrist. If I wasn’t careful, that was going to start bleeding soon.
I took in a deep breath and assessed my options again. I couldn’t get out of here without the key to the handcuffs - and there was only one person who might have that. Which meant confronting my kidnapper, at the very least.
So…what did I know about him.
He was a highly skilled assassin-slash-kidnapper with the body of a Greek god…focus!…an intimidating stare, rough voice and he had no hesitation in pulling out a gun and threatening a woman. He’d had no qualms about killing, and had been calm and controlled throughout the whole dangerous situation, with enough cunning and instinct to adapt to whatever had happened. He’d also seemed able to read me like an open book, from the muttered reminders he’d given me every time I was just about to try something.
Great. And what did I have against all that…?
I glanced around the room again. Maybe the element of surprise. Maybe.
It was all I could think of, and I couldn’t see it measuring up particularly well, but I guessed it was worth a shot. If I had a weapon or something, maybe I’d at least feel like I had a chance…but there was nothing here and I was still stuck to this damned bed.
I wished for a brief moment for enough room to maneuver - and the strength - to let me swing the frame around and strike him with it, but that wasn’t going to happen. My eyes caught the desk again, and I considered it. It was probably light enough I could just about manage to pick that up, but it was awkward and unwieldy. It seemed fragile enough though…
With a frown, I stood up and slammed my hand down against the dry wood at the top. There was no loud crack or impressive display, but the impact hit it hard enough that it shifted a little, tilting as one of the legs splintered slightly.
Triumph ran through me and I grinned suddenly, grabbing it and starting to work it further. If I could break one of the legs off…
Then I still only had a very small chance. But it was definitely better than nothing.
Chapter Four
Leo
I ducked through the narrow gap in the chain-link fence and strode over to the abandoned warehouse that Manny usually operated out of.
I still felt a twinge of guilt at leaving Alessa alone, especially after she’d clearly objected - but there was no way she could come here, and she should be fine for the night. Besides, Kidnapping her was worse than leaving ever could have been, so I was already screwed there anyway.
Hopefully her fear would fade and she’d even be able to get a bit of sleep - a luxury that I doubted I’d get tonight, despite the beginnings of a headache behind my eyes telling me I needed it.
I waited until I was through the large, rusted doors before my impatience got the better of me.
“Manny! Get your fucking ass over here.” My voice echoed around the large, open area - probably disturbing any deal he had going on, but I wasn’t in the mood for consideration. I was on edge, and I needed to know what had happened tonight.
There was no answer, and I grunted in annoyance as I looked around. The random items that had been here ever since I’d first met the guy were still scattered around - the pallet he kept in the corner for the occasional night he stayed here, or any guests that needed it, was still lying there undisturbed. It looked the same as it always had.
Manny had been a source for most of my dealings over the last few months in New York City, and he was good at what he did. But a screw up like this had me feeling anything but generous towards the guy. I wanted to know where and how he’d gotten his information, and the checks he’d done to make sure it was good. I needed to know whether I’d been set-up - and who might have done it - or whether there’d just been some terrible mistake.
With every passing moment, it was feeling more and more like the former.
I walked through the main area, heading to the back where he sometimes took more delicate deals - away from prying eyes. On any given night, he could generally be relied on to be in this warehouse - or leave something with a way to contact him. If tonight was the one night he didn’t show, well that was some combination of suspicious and unfortunate that I didn’t want to think about.
I pushed open the door to his ‘office’ without bothering to knock, the tirade that had built in me over the last few hours ready to burst.
Then I froze. The words died on the tip of my tongue as my eyes danced over the gruesome sight in front of me. My gun was out a second later, and I ducked behind the door, looking around for any sign of movement or life - but there was nothing. My angry shout as I entered would have alerted anyone regardless.
I waited for every sense to convince me that there was no one nearby, then I let my gaze return to Manny.
He was strung up from a beam in the ceiling, the thick rope tight around his neck, with his face contorted and purple - he’d strangled to death then, instead of the rope breaking his neck.
Poor bastard.
There was a chair kicked over underneath him - enough to give whatever idiots ended up finding him the evidence they needed to write it off as a suicide. Which, for a no-good mobster like Manny, they’d want to do.
I’d been pissed and confused before, but now I was starting to get seriously concerned. No doubt there would be an ‘unofficial’ reason for this circulated among the underworld, but the timing was far too suspicious for me to think it wasn’t related to my hit tonight.
One more pointer towards a set-up.
And a fucking big one at that. The more I looked at him, the more I was taking this as a personal message: You’re next.
Whoever had planned this wanted to cover their tracks - enough that they’d set-up a well known, thorough source with false intel and then killed him afterward to avoid a trail. And if they’d do that to an established guy in the NYC underworld, they weren’t going to hesitate over an unknown, unaffiliated hitman that’d only been around a few months.
Simply the names involved were enough to make sure of it - Kovalski and Santini. An alliance. Who would’ve ever thought that?
And someone obviously didn’t want it to happen.
The girl was a complication. Clearly they intended me to kill Kovalski unawares, but the girl…I have no idea what they’d thought would happen to her—
&nb
sp; Except I did.
Any other hitman would’ve just killed her outright. It’s what I should have done.
So someone wanted Viktor Kovalski and Antonio Santini’s daughter dead…who? Why?
I shook my head and came out of my crouch, still holding the gun firmly in both hands, eyes still darting around. I didn’t know the answers, and I was starting to think looking for them wasn’t the best idea.
I could just leave…
But I was reluctant to destroy my chances of coming back to New York. I might feel the urge to move on somewhere else every few months, but I’d come back to New York more often than anywhere else. It was the place that felt most familiar. Growing up on these streets did that to you, I guessed.
Besides, having two of the largest mafia organizations in the country after me could make life difficult - even if they didn’t know who I was.
So, I’d stay and see what I could find out - and maybe, if I found a few answers, the Santini and Kovalski families would overlook this little…mishap. It might be a long shot, but the only reason they’d even try pursuing me would be to find out who’d hired the hit. Most revenge focused on the client, not the agent.
Except for those that just wipe out everything to do with it, of course…
But if they weren’t in a generous mood, I could still switch to plan B: get the hell out of dodge.
If only I knew what the hell to do with Alessa in all this. The fact that I hadn’t killed her should count for something with Santini, but keeping her captive probably wouldn’t do me any favors either. And if I let her go, my one advantage of being unknown would vanish. Then the Russians would be on my back before I could figure anything out.
She’s going to be the death of you…
I sighed and slowly rose to my feet, focusing on getting out of here. If I was the mastermind behind this, I would’ve left a few guys to wait and see if I showed up, but there didn’t seem to be anyone here. I moved back through the main warehouse without any issues, and within moments was back in my car and starting the engine.
As soon as I was safely away, my mind flew through my options.
I’d planned to find out more about both Martin Feber and my supposed client, Jamie Lee, tonight. Manny was the one who knew more than surface level information on Martin, though, and it was looking more and more likely that the guy had never existed.
Seeing Manny like that, I doubted I was going to be able to see my ‘client’ either. He was probably dead, disappeared, or the man I’d thought he was - Jamie Lee - was someone different entirely. Still, it was worth finding out which of those was true - it could give me something to go on.
I always did as much research as I could on the client, but there hadn’t been much time here. Still, the story had fit well enough - I’d seen both him and his wife, I’d checked out the financial firm he worked at, and I’d followed him at a distance on his lunch break. It had seemed to be the same guy that I’d met in a club in Manhattan to arrange the hit on Martin.
My mind returned briefly to Alessa waiting back at the safehouse, but it was midnight now and hopefully she’d just gone to sleep.
Besides, how is she a reason to cut this short?
The idea that I even wanted to confused me.
Instead, I turned the car towards Brooklyn Heights and tried not to think too much as I drove. For some reason, those dark, scared eyes - flashing with occasional anger and defiance - kept coming back to me. I pictured the way she’d looked at me as I leaned over her on the bed, right before I’d snapped the cuffs on her. Her mouth had opened just a little, breath coming quickly as the dim light of the room made her sun-kissed skin shine. For one brief moment, I’d actually thought she’d shared my heated interest.
But that was not an interest I should dwell on. Not with Antonio Santini’s daughter. The girl I’d kidnapped. It was all kinds of wrong.
At least that means she’s never going to go for it.
And I was probably only obsessing over it because I hadn’t had a chance for my usual post-hit relaxation.
For a brief moment, I considered looking for that after I was done with Jamie Lee - and then dismissed it almost immediately. It would be risky as hell when I had no clue who was looking for me, and far more important things to focus on.
If I had a spare moment, I should use it to sleep, not fuck. And the idea of one of my usual pretty girls didn’t seem to have the same luster tonight. The whiskey, however…but it was out of the question.
I sighed again and turned the car onto the Manhattan Bridge, drumming my fingers on the steering wheel as I tried to get her out of my head.
I’d never kidnapped a woman before - never even taken one more than a block down the street - and worrying about how she was doing was driving me crazy. I’m pretty sure that wasn’t how it was supposed to go, but then I’d readily admit I had no clue what I should be doing either.
I ground my teeth in frustration and tried to work out how I could easily get rid of her - but I couldn’t just let a witness go. Especially not after what had happened to Manny.
Instead, I forced myself to think back to the brief interaction I’d had with my client, remembering all the details I could in case Jamie Lee was in his apartment, and I had to compare him to the guy I’d met. I was usually good at that sort of thing - remembering details - but tonight, everything seemed difficult and I needed the extra focus.
As I neared Jamie Lee’s address, I stopped by a pizza joint that opened late and ordered a large pie to takeout. This time of night, there wasn’t much going on there and I didn’t have to wait long in the dim shop before I headed back to my Mercedes with the pizza in tow.
The damn thing would stink up my nice leather-upholstered car, but without the time to plan this out properly, I had to settle for old tricks. Plus, my stomach was quickly reminding me that I hadn’t eaten yet tonight, so maybe the detour would work out in more ways than one.
I looked around warily as I eased the car down Jamie’s road, very aware that if whoever had set this up wanted to catch me and end the last remaining evidence then it would be fairly easy to guess that I’d turn up here. But there were no dark cars or suspicious lurkers to be wary of - just a nice, quiet neighborhood that seemed to have gone to sleep for the night.
I came to a silent stop a couple of doors down from Jamie’s house and on the opposite side of the road, then switched the car off as I looked up at the house. It was closed off and dark - either Jamie and his wife weren’t home, or they’d already gone to sleep for the night. Either one would tell me something - though part of me still hoped Jamie would be home and I’d recognize him as the man who’d hired me. That way I could start resolving some of this nightmare.
But the chances of whoever I was dealing with being that careless were low. And I’d never been an optimistic kind of guy.
I waited a few more moments, checking the street again, before grabbing the pizza and sliding out of the car. I reached into the back and pulled out a bulky leather jacket, slipping that on and settling a cap over my head. Like this, I’d be fairly indistinguishable from most delivery guys and it should stop Jamie from getting a good look at me.
Another glance down the street and I walked up to the door with a confident, bored stride, preparing myself to wake the house up. The first ring didn’t get any response, and I craned my head to look for signs of movement. I tried again, listening for sounds of movement as I held the bell down for longer. I could hear it buzzing through the house, but not much else.
C’mon fuckers, be home.
It would be so much easier if I could know for certain. If they were gone…I’d need to come by at least another couple of times to make sure it was for good.
I waited a minute, then knocked sharply on the door and pressed the buzzer again. If they were home, there was no way I was letting them sleep through this.
Another minute of waiting, and then I heard a muted curse from inside, followed by the sounds of the house creaking
.
Got you!
I pressed the buzzer again for effect, even though someone was probably on their way down now - furious at the midnight interruption, no doubt, but I could live with that.
I was counting on it being Jamie and not his wife, but that seemed more likely - men were supposed to answer suspicious disturbances in the night, right? Protect their home and family and all that shit.
The lights flicked on in the room next to me, the gleam from the window shining through and dimly illuminating the porch - and then the door in front of me was jerked open, a red faced man in a faded blue robe glaring out at me.
“Who the hell are you?! What do you think you’re doing, waking us up at this time of night?!”
My gut twisted. It was immediately obvious that this wasn’t the man who’d taken out the hit on Martin Feber - from a distance, maybe he was similar to the guy I’d met, but the way he carried himself and the slightly high-pitched tone of his voice were all wrong.
I affected a confused expression and looked up at him with a frown.
“I’ve got a pizza for a Mr. John Frost, number 72?” My voice reflected my surprise, as I deliberately mismatched his neighbor’s name with his address.
Jamie scowled back at me. “John is number 74 - to the left, dumbass.”
His irritation was obvious and I backed up, raising a hand in protest.
“Hey, don’t blame me for your neighbor’s mistake, man.” I shrugged and gave him a half-apologetic glance as I made to leave. “Sorry for waking you up.”
He scowled again, shutting the door in my face and leaving me to retreat. I waited until the light shut off and then headed back to my car, sliding the pizza over to the other seat before settling back inside.
Well, I guess that answers those questions. Martin Feber never existed, and whoever hired you only ‘borrowed’ Jamie’s identity.
Frowning, I started the engine and turned the car around as I tried to work out what to do. This wasn’t looking good for me - my only leads were cold and I was probably going to be staring down Manny’s fate imminently.