Gian (Trassato Crime Family Book 1)(13)

Less than thirty seconds later, the side door swooshed open. A dark-haired man in a pinstriped suit kicked a wooden wedge under the bottom of the door and jogged down the street.

I didn’t waste a second. When he disappeared around the corner, I shimmied through the opening, careful not to disturb the wedge. I slipped off my heels so I wouldn’t make any noise and tiptoed across the hall, the cold concrete stinging my bare feet. The door to Gian’s office was cracked. I paused by the entrance, listening for voices. First came the low rumble of Gian’s voice followed by a muffled voice I didn’t recognize.

With one hand balanced on the doorjamb, I leaned forward and peeked inside. Unlike the bright overhead fluorescent lights in the hallway, Gian’s office was dimly lit. When my eyes adjusted to the light, I saw a man with his arms and his legs spread wide on the floor, a dark liquid staining the front of his shirt. I leaned forward another inch. The man looked vacant, pale, and his eyes were fixed and unblinking. Then reality slapped me in the face. He was dead.

An involuntary gasp skipped from my mouth. My heart exploded in my chest, and my knees buckled. I reached for the wall to stop my fall, and my shoes slipped out of my grasp, clattering onto the floor.

My head jerked up, and my gaze collided with Gian’s. His golden eyes looked like the fires of Hell, his face a blank mask. Long seconds ticked by. I rolled my neck, trying to clear my foggy brain and backpedaled a few steps. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude. I forgot my purse. I’ll come back later.”

“Evangeline, come in here. We need to talk,” he said, his voice hard and forceful.

I swallowed the lump lodged in my throat. “I have to go.”

He lunged forward, and I ran. Less than six steps later, his arms closed around my waist. My muscles tensed, and adrenaline surged through me. My heart drummed erratically inside my chest. My arms flailed wildly through the air like a wounded animal. I donkey-kicked backward, and he grunted. Within seconds, he whirled me around and pinned me to the wall. The bass from the music in the club vibrated the drywall, shaking my bones.

“Let go of me,” I hissed through gritted teeth, ignoring the stomach-churning cocktail of anger and fear swirling inside of me.

“Listen,” he hissed. “You need to shut the fuck up and do everything I say, or you will end up at the bottom of the Hudson River. Got it?”

I sucked in a breath. “My friends know I’m here. They’re waiting right outside for me. They’ll call the cops if I don’t come out in a few minutes.”

“You’re lying.”

I stared at the floor so he couldn’t see my eyes. “You don’t know that.”

His frame curved over mine, his dark eyes imprisoning me, and my shoulders slumped. “I won’t hurt you,” he whispered, his lips brushing against my earlobe. I squeezed my eyes, hating the equal measures of lust and terror whirling inside my gut like a tornado. “But I can’t promise my associates won’t unless you play along right now.”

Tears swelled in the corners of my eyes. “How? What do you want me to do?”

His thumb brushed over my lower lip, and I struggled to take a breath. “You can start by painting a smile on your face and acting like you’re not afraid of me.”

Every instinct told me to fight. My mind circled through a dozen or more escape plans, all with equally horrific endings. “How do I know I can trust you?” I said softly.

“You don’t have a choice. You don’t have any bargaining power right now.”

“I won’t tell anyone about this, not even Carmela. Let me go, and we’ll never see each other again.”

His mouth flattened. “No.”

The pads of his fingers brushed over my nipples, and pleasure zigzagged through my nerve endings. Damn my body.

“I hate you,” I whispered, glaring daggers at him.

“Get over it.” A click sounded behind us.

“Put down the fucking gun, Tony. You’re not killing my fiancée tonight,” Gian said.

My eyes widened, and he captured my ear between his teeth. “Follow my lead.” He spun around and enveloped me in a one-armed embrace.

Gian’s friend silently inspected me like a wad of gum on the bottom of his shoe. “This chick is really your fiancée?”

“Yes. Why the fuck would I lie?”

Whistling, the man slipped his gun back inside his jacket. “Fuck, Gian. When the hell did this happen? Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

“Evangeline is a friend of Carmela’s.” Gian smirked. “You know how she is. She’d kick my ass if she thought I came within a mile of any of her friends.”