She freezes for no more than five seconds before she trembles so much that I can see it. I don’t know what drives me next, but it’s the same instinct that’s made me call her little girl three times. I pull her to my chest and tuck her head against it. I stroke her hair down to her shoulders, rubbing my hand up and down her back. This is the most inopportune moment to notice she isn’t wearing a bra. I will my body not to react.
“What does that mean?”
Her voice is barely more than a whisper, but I know what she’s asking.
“It means little girl.”
“I should be insulted, but the way you say it…”
“It has nothing to do with your height. I know you’re not a child.”
God, do I know she’s not. She feels amazing. Her tits are soft as they press against me, and I can see she has the most delectable ass. I’d love nothing more than to cup it and squeeze until she goes up on her toes and begs for me to wrap her legs around my waist and fuck her. For fuck’s sake. Stop, you disgusting asshole. That is not what you need to be thinking about.
“Why didn’t you shoot me? Whatever you were talking about, if it was with a Cartel member, then it wasn’t completely legal. Carlos didn’t want me alive to talk about seeing you together. Why are you letting me live?”
“I told you. You did nothing wrong but try to leave work. He should have checked the building before starting the meeting. That was on him. The only thing I take issue with is you leaving by yourself and walking into a dimly lit parking lot. I suspect you do that often, and that’s too dangerous. Jane Doe, I don’t hurt women.”
She tilts her head to the left as she assesses me. I have a moment of nerves that I won’t live up to her expectations, and I have no idea why I care. I should be worried that she’s going to call the police the moment she can’t see me. I should worry that she’ll get me arrested. I should worry about a shit ton besides her safety. But I can’t help it.
“I don’t like people seeing me leaving the store alone if I go out through the front. The store’s been closed for hours, but I was doing some work in the office. You can’t see the back-office light is on when you’re on the street. I can leave with no one noticing.”
“But anyone could lurk here, as you’ve learned.”
“I wouldn’t say you were exactly lurking.”
She glances around my shoulder to where the bodies were. Her brow furrows, and her gaze swings back to me. In the few minutes that she wasn’t looking around, I know my men have already swept the area for bullet casings, wrapped the bodies, tossed them in the trunk of our SUV, and scrubbed away the blood from the concrete. No one will be the wiser that three men died here tonight.
“You said your name is Luca, and you sound like you have an accent with some words. Are you—oh, fuck. You’re Luca Mancinelli.”
She panics and pushes against my chest, fighting to break loose. She tries even harder than she did before, but my arms around her waist confine her. She tries to stomp on my toes and knee me, but I easily block her.
“Stop.”
Most men obey when they hear that tone, but she struggles more. She fears me, yet she doesn’t. I’m not the sick bastard who likes to dominate women when they say no, thinking the chase is fun. But I’m not letting go because there’s more I need to tell her.
“I do not want to hold on to you like this, but I don’t trust you not to bolt. We aren’t done talking, Jane Doe. Stop, and I will let go. If you run, I will catch you again. You need to understand how serious this is, and you need to know what to do.”
“I know how serious it is. You’re the fucking Mafia.”
“And I told you Carlos was Culiacán. You looked like you understood what that meant. If I wanted you dead, I would have killed you. If I wanted to rape you, I wouldn’t stand around here taking my time chatting. If I was going to kidnap you, you’d already be bound, gagged, blindfolded, and in the trunk.”
“Fine.”
She stands still, and I let her go. I even take a step back. I’m certain my men are wondering what the fuck I’m doing. I’m wondering the same thing. I know they must be antsy to go, but I feel like I owe this woman something.
“I am Luca Mancinelli. You seem to know who I am, even if I don’t know who you are. You said you have a car. You need to drive to someone you know in a different borough. If you know someone in Jersey or Connecticut, that’s even better. Do not go to your place. Do not use your credit cards or debit cards. I’m going to give you enough cash for at least three tanks of gas, some food, and some clothes. You can buy non-prescription colored contacts. Your shade of brown is too unique with the amber around the pupils and flecks of green in the irises. You need to get something more muted. Color your blonde hair to a nondescript brown with no hints of blonde. I’ll make sure you have enough for that, too. I know you think this is extreme, and it is. But it’s what you need to do to escape.”
I twist and wave to Gabriele. He’s my cousin Carmine’s best friend. I can’t stand either of them, but Gabriele’s excellent at what he does. He was standing to my right when I negotiated with Carlos. When he approaches, I switch to Italian. He was born and raised there until he was ten, and even though I was born in New York, Italian was my first language.
“Portami duemila dollari e due pistole usa a getta.” Bring me two grand and two burners.
Gabriele’s face barely shows any of his surprise or disapproval, but I see it. I don’t give a shit what he thinks. Last I checked, I’m the underboss, not him.
“Two thousand dollars? I can’t take that from you.”
“You speak Italian?”
“No, but I can understand the number two thousand since it’s dos mil in Spanish, so close enough, and dollari must mean dollars. That’s way too much to give me.”
“If you know who the Mancinellis are, then you know we won’t notice two grand. You’re going to need it.”
Gabriele hands me an envelope and two burner phones in boxes. I rip the disposable phones open and quickly set them up. I take one of them and pull up the contacts list.
John Doe
212-555-9080
I hand her the phone before I quickly add that phone’s number to the one I’m keeping.
Jane Doe
212-555-4103
“Do not store any other numbers in here. Only use it to call me if you have to. Do you have a cosmetic bag in your purse?”
“Yes.”
“Let me see it, please.”
My sudden rediscovery of manners surprises her. But I hold out my hand for it. I can tell she doesn’t want to give it to me, but she does. Her cheeks flame red when I open it and find not only makeup but a handful of tampons and two condoms. That begs an important question that I hadn’t thought of.
“Are you single? Is there someone expecting you to go home to them or call them or see them?”
As I ask, I fold the bills long ways. They’re all one hundreds, but that still makes twenty bills to fit in the bag. I stack them to make it easy for her to grab one at a time and push them beneath everything else in the bag. I hold it closed and shake it a few times before looking back inside. I pull the sides out, but there’s enough stuff in there to disguise the bills if anyone did a quick search.