“But you might not next time. Pack a bag, we’re leaving.”
I have no choice but to follow his orders. When I turn, Mom tries to follow me, but one harsh command from him stops her in her tracks. Fingers trembling, I throw together an overnight bag and make sure to grab my tablet computer. It’s a crazy mismatch of clothing and toiletries because I can’t think clearly enough to pack appropriately. I don’t even know what is appropriate—is this a one-night bag until he sends men for the rest of my things? Will I be stuck in his house all week, or will he expect me to go out and put on a show? I’m so utterly bewildered that I just grab whatever comes into view first and stuff it in the bag.
When I return to the living room, Mom stares at me fiercely and completely ignores the man’s fussing when she crosses the room to hug me. I try to draw from her strength. A part of me desperately wants to break down in her arms and beg her to keep me safe, but I know that isn’t an option.
She empowers me with one final parting gift. A few words whispered hastily in my ear to calm and focus me.
“Stick to the plan. Don’t let him take you. Run.”
CHAPTER 4
DANIKA
Adrenaline floodsmy veins as the elevator plummets to the ground level. I know my chances are slim, but I have to try to get away. I just wish I knew how. I’ll never win a foot race with a man nearly a foot taller than me. I’m an artist, not an athlete.
What else, then? Do I push him in front of oncoming traffic? Effective if I’m okay with possibly going to prison and living with the fact that I killed a man. Urgency bleeds my brain of all thought. The harder I push myself to come up with an idea, the more blank my mind becomes.
Come on, Dani. Think!
The rev of a motorcycle draws my gaze behind me. The light up ahead has turned green, and traffic is inching forward … including a motorcycle not far from me.
I have no clue if I can pull this off, but it’s the only idea I’ve got. I’ll only have about half a second to make it work.
In three…
Two…
One…
I shove the Russian away from the street, then launch myself onto the back of the motorcycle. I burn my leg in the process but hardly register the pain.
“Drive,please! I need your help,” I cry next to the man’s helmet. My body tightly clutches his with my duffel still dangling from my shoulder. By some miracle of God, the bike revs to life, skirting around the cars in front of it and away from the furious Russian screaming at our backs. We zoom in and out of traffic, even going on sidewalks to avoid stopping, until we’re a good mile or so away from my apartment building. Far enough that I feel safe asking the driver to stop. Again, my luck holds up, and the guy pulls his bike over in the loading zone for a corner market.
“Thank you so much,” I say as I slide off the bike, careful not to burn myself again, and turn off my cell phone before I do anything else. Now that I’ve escaped, I don’t want them using GPS somehow to track me down.
My rescuer takes his helmet off to reveal a middle-aged man with kind eyes. “You okay? I can drop you at a police station if you want.”
“No, that’s okay. Thank you.” I offer a gracious smile, and while he returns the gesture, his eyes are full of pity. I don’t like the idea of anyone worrying about me, but my situation probably warrants concern.
I give one more wave and watch as he puts his helmet back on and disappears into the night. Despite all that’s happened in the past twenty-four hours, I’m bolstered by the reminder that decent people still exist in the world—people willing to help a total stranger. It gives me a tiny ray of hope that maybe an answer to my problems will present itself. In the meantime, I need to hide.
After using the only cash in my wallet to buy a blue Yankees ball cap in the corner market, I head to the subway. My best friend lives two stops away. I can spend one night with her, then move forward with my plan in the morning.
“Well, this is new.”Sachi studies the way my trademark red waves are crammed under a ball cap—an unusual style for me, even more so considering the sun isn’t out. Her eyes pop wide open. “Oh God. Tell me you did not try to give yourself bangs.”
I have to chuckle as I push past her into the one-bedroom apartment she shares with another girl. “I wish.”
“Then what’s up with the incognito mode?”
“Ria here?” I try to peek into the bedroom but don’t see signs of Sachi’s roommate.
“She’s out for the evening, why? What on earth is going on?”
I set down my duffel and have Sachi sit with me on the small futon sofa. “This is going to sound absolutely insane, but every word of it is true.”
My best friend of the past five years sobers, the normally serene skin of her forehead creasing with unease. “Are you in some sort of danger?” she blurts.
“You know that my dad isn’t in my life, but I sort of left out the part about him being head of the Russian mob.”
