“You sure you’re okay?” the doorman asked.
She was shivering, but she nodded and said, “I’m okay,” hoping she would start believing it.
Chapter Two
Brianna’s phone was almost dead by the time she spotted Carina’s black BMW slowing down in front of the apartment building that had been Brianna’s haven for the past hour.
She called a thank-you to the doorman and dashed out into the rain before Carina had time to pull up. She jumped into the sleek black sedan and jerked the door shut with more force than necessary in her anxiousness.
Carina’s eyes were narrowed. Her thick dark hair, usually so neatly styled in a bob that curled just past her chin, was unruly, making it obvious she’d left the gig without her umbrella. Brianna glanced into the backseat, finding Carina’s guitar lying there, minus the case, as if Carina had just grabbed it and run out of the club without looking back.
“Aiuto is life-or-death. It’s a code that means you are in deep shit,” Carina reminded her. “It means there are motherfuckers with guns chasing you down the street. Is that what happened? Were there motherfuckers with guns chasing you? ’Cause if I just skipped out on my gig for another fight with Broccoli—”
“Have you swept the car for bugs?” Brianna asked as she looked around in paranoia, unable to shake the high-strung nervousness that running for her life had caused.
Carina did a double take, because normally the FBI’s nosiness wasn’t too big a deal. It wasn’t like either of them was actively involved in anything illegal. Tino was gone. Carina didn’t really speak to her other brother. The rest of her family was usually careful not to discuss business around her.
Carina’s face lost some of its color as she asked, “Why?”
“Have you swept it?”
“Tony did it before he left.”
“That was over a week ago!” Brianna shouted. “Carina!”
“Really?” Carina gave her a look of disbelief. “You have issues that require a sweep.”
“Is anyone following you?” Brianna asked as she turned to look out the back, because more often than not, Carina’s grandfather had someone watching her. “Are you stuck with babysitters this week?”
“I ditched the babysitters. Faked going to the bathroom and snuck out the back.” Carina gave Brianna another glare. “What is going on?”
Brianna felt the first tears of the night sting her eyes as she looked at her best friend. Then she tugged down her turtleneck, showing off the marks she was sure were still there. “I have so many issues that require a sweep.”
Carina sucked in a hard breath as she stared at Brianna’s neck. Carina reached out and grabbed Brianna’s face when they stopped at a light. Her dark gaze narrowed in fury.
“Figlio di puttana,” she cursed as she studied Brianna’s cheek that probably looked horrible. “Broccoli did that?”
Brianna nodded and covered her mouth with her hand, feeling herself wanting to unravel and just sob now that some of the adrenaline was draining out of her. “But that’s not the worst of it. There was a reason I used aiuto, and it wasn’t because of Broccoli.”
Carina looked back to the road when the light turned green. She kept her gaze straight ahead, but there was a tic in her jaw that showed the fear in a way her face wouldn’t.
“You’re tired. Sleep. I’ll get us somewhere, and you can tell me,” Carina finally decided, not leaving any room for argument.
Brianna just looked out the window rather than respond. She didn’t trust herself to speak. There were a million things on the tip of her tongue, number one being the question Brianna never wanted to ask.
Did Carina know her grandfather had been playing Brianna and Tino all along? Did she know he told David to marry Brianna? Did Carina know her nonno was a man who could have Brianna killed just to get back at Tino for whatever he did to piss their grandfather off this week?
Yet even as she thought it, she wasn’t as shocked as she should be.
Look at what Tino had endured at the hands of the mafia. Was she really surprised they would consider her an easy pawn in the game? If they hurt their own blood that severely, one Irish Catholic girl from Dyker Heights wasn’t such a big loss.
Carina could make a new friend.
Brianna kept staring out the window, the lights blurring red and white through the rain as her eyes got heavy, and her heart finally stopped its constant pounding against her chest.
Simon and Garfunkel played on the radio, soft and melodic, lulling her into a false sense of security as if a bridge over troubled water was really something girls like her could still dream about.
She couldn’t talk about what happened, not until Carina swept the car for bugs, so as they approached the Lincoln Tunnel, Brianna gave up thinking about it and slept instead.