With the lungs that she’d been training since she was a kid.
The one thing mafia avoided above all else was accidentally drawing attention to themselves. Most of them had been taught since birth to be secretive. To stay in the shadows. To never make themselves a target and possibly hurt the Borgata, which was an unforgivable sin in mafia families.
Nothing like a screeching redhead on the curb in Midtown to have both men backing up like she had the plague. She didn’t look back. She just kept running toward Broadway.
It started raining harder.
After a few blocks, despite the adrenaline pumping through her system, she was forced to notice she’d forgotten her jacket. Her jeans were heavy, but her sneakers were serving her well. Still she was shivering, either from fear or freezing her ass in the chilly midnight air.
Likely a combination of both.
She looked back and didn’t see anyone following her. Not knowing how long she had until a large black vehicle pulled up in very mafia-like fashion, she ducked into the next building.
The doorman looked affronted as Brianna stood there dripping on his floor.
“I just need to make a phone call.” She pushed her soaked hair away from her face and looked at him pleadingly. “Gimme five minutes.”
“Are you in trouble?” he asked in concern.
She shook her head but looked past the door, watching the traffic.
Then she pulled her phone out of her pocket. Fortunately, she was a very practical New York girl, who didn’t like purses. She had a wallet in her phone case, and if she needed money, she had some.
She hesitated as she stared at the last text from Carina, knowing it was Carina’s family trying to have her killed. She didn’t like that she was hesitating, but she was.
Then, before she could change her mind, she texted.
AIUTO!
She stared at her phone, wondering if Carina was still doing her set. Her latest gig was at a place way over in Brooklyn. One of those very trendy, very indie clubs where most people ordered Red Bull instead of wine at midnight and enjoyed listening to real artists perform.
If Carina ever got a record deal, she’d lose most of her fan base.
Not that she’d ever get a record deal.
She was too hip for that.
Luckily, Carina’s inheritance afforded her that luxury.
The rest of them, Brianna included, were slaves to the paycheck.
The art was the bonus.
Carina texted her back in less than a minute.
Where are you?
Brianna asked the doorman the address and texted it to Carina with the thought that if her best friend was in on this whole thing, she might as well just give herself up anyway.
She’d be done.
So she stood there, staring out the rain-streaked windows, watching the cars driving by.
She saw not one, but two black SUVs driving by slower than usual, and she stepped behind the marble pillar, watching as they rolled by her and kept going.
“You sure you’re all right, lady?” the doorman asked. “I can call the cops.”
Brianna paused at that, wondering if that might be a consideration, but just as quickly she dismissed it. For one, she had spent a little too much time around Carina and Tino to be comfortable with the idea of police intervention. For another, she was fairly certain the Morettis had dirty hands all over the NYPD.
Her phone chimed, and she looked down to see Carina’s text.
I’m on my way.
“No, I think I’m okay.” She winced in apology. “Can I just sit here for a little while?”
“Whatever.” He shrugged and sat back down, even though Brianna knew he was breaking the rules by letting her loiter in his lobby.
Brianna sat on the bench to the right of the door, peering out into the rain the entire time. Her heart never stopped beating hard and fast. Several times she silently cursed Carina for working way the hell out in Brooklyn when there were plenty of places in Manhattan willing to feature her.
But Brooklyn was where it was at this year.
So Carina was commuting to Brooklyn.
Brianna bet Tino got a good laugh over that, because Carina spent most of her teenage years trying to get out of Brooklyn. Yet even as Brianna thought about Tino, she felt the gravity of everything hit her, and oddly enough, she didn’t feel as terrified as she should.
In that one moment, shivering in the too-cold lobby, still dripping wet, she almost felt relieved. Like no matter what happened, she knew her farce of a marriage with David was over.
Even a mafia bullet sounded better than staying married to him.
She wasn’t totally sure how it had happened. How she could’ve let a man like that into her life. One who claimed to have been sent by the mafia, and for what? To keep her distracted? To keep her away from Tino?
And she’d fallen for it.
Not really. There had never been any delusion of love between her and David. It had been a marriage of convenience, a trophy wife for him, and security for her because marrying David was the only way to stop herself from doing something drastic.
Like running back to Tino.
Despite the consequences.