“Get Leo,” I tell Vic. “We need to get this sorted out so I can get home.”
Chapter Thirteen
Sarah
Honest to God, by now I should be used to having Nick be gone, off doing mysterious “work” things that I don’t—or can’t—know anything about. But something about his phone call put me on edge. Maybe it was his voice. I don’t know. What I do know is that something is very, very wrong.
I try to put it out of my mind. I’ve been trying to teach myself how to knit so I can make some clothes for the baby, so I grab my knitting bag and settle into my favorite armchair.
I’m having a hard time making sense out of the instructions—they seem needlessly complicated—and I’m not having much luck keeping all the yarn loops on the needles. But, dammit, I’m going to figure this out and my baby’s going to have some hand-knitted booties.
Then the phone rings, and I jump, and half the stitches come off the needle. “Fuck,” I say, and pick up the phone.
“Is this Sarah Angelino?” The voice on the other end is a woman’s, and she sounds frightened, or upset at the very least. It takes me a second to register that, yes, I am Sarah Angelino, not Sarah Corelli.
“This is she.”
“It’s…your husband…”
Instantly I’m on high alert, adrenaline sending a coppery taste into the back of my mouth. “What’s happened? Is he all right?”
“He… Somebody shot him. Mrs. Angelino, you need to come right now.”
“Somebody shot him?” My heart’s going like crazy now, beating so hard I can feel it in my temples. “What happened?”
“I don’t know, ma’am. Some kind of gang-related incident, or at least that’s what the cops are saying.”
“Where is he? Who is this?”
“He’s at the bakery. You need to be here…”
“Who is this?” I ask again, but the connection breaks.
I stare at the phone for a few long seconds. I don’t know what to do. I look at the call log, but I don’t recognize the number, and there’s no name in the Caller ID.
What are the chances it’s a prank call? Nick told me to stay here, behind the alarm system. But if Nick’s really hurt, I can’t just ignore it.
I try to call Nick, but he doesn’t answer. I try again. Nothing. I try Chris’s number—still nothing. Panic’s crawling up my throat, choking me more thoroughly with each unanswered call.
I can’t just stay here. I have to know what’s happened. The only choice, then, is to go find him, no matter what he ordered. If he’s been hurt, if he’s headed for the hospital, if he’s—God forbid, if he’s dead—then I need to be there.
Decision made, I grab my keys and head for the door.
I don’t even make it to the car. A hand grabs me, hard, and jerks me off the sidewalk. I almost fall, and in the process of trying to regain my balance, I land face first on a hard, wide chest. A familiar chest.
It’s Sal.
Of course it’s Sal. My already frayed nerves start to scream, adrenaline roaring through my system until I can barely breathe. God, what is he going to do to me? Why did I decide to leave the house instead of trying again to call?
“That was too easy,” Sal hisses into my ear. “I knew you’d fall for that one.”
“Let me go!” There’s no point demanding it, because I know he won’t do it, but I jerk at his grip on my arm anyway, fruitlessly trying to dislodge it. He yanks harder, dragging me down the sidewalk, and I see a dark car parked across the street. “What are you doing? Where do you think you’re taking me?”
Truth is, he’s taking me wherever the hell he wants. I can’t get free of him, and Nick’s nowhere nearby to swoop in and rescue me. I’m suddenly swamped with terror—this could be the day that I die. My free hand goes automatically to my abdomen, as if I can protect the life growing inside me. Sal notices, and his face twists into the ugliest expression I’ve ever seen. There’s something seriously wrong with him. It’s not just the anger and hatred I’m used to from him. He’s gone over the edge.
“I’m taking you to your favorite place,” he snarls. Using his grip on my arm, he half swings, half shoves me toward the car. “I figured if that fucking bakery means so much to you that you’d sell yourself for it then it’ll probably be a good place for you to die.”
I lose my balance and fall into the side of the car. The metal is hot from the sun, almost hot enough to burn. The realization that Sal has actually lost his mind terrifies me. It was hard enough sidestepping his hatred and his penchant for violence, but now he’s completely unpredictable. I have no idea what he might do next, what he’ll do to me, what he might try to do to Nick. My mind’s racing, trying to figure out how I might be able to get away, but I’m too panicky to pin anything down.