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"I need you to meet me on the Belt Parkway, exit 17, in ten minutes."
"Do you know what fucking time it is?"
"Now, Matteo."
"What's going on?" He sounds more alert now.
"Just do as I fucking tell you." I cut him off, taking a sharp right to avoid a red light camera.
"Jesus, Noah. Fine. Ten minutes."
I hang up and check the rearview mirror. Evelyn is still out cold. Good. I don't need her screaming or fighting right now.
I weave through late-night traffic, constantly checking for tails. Nothing obvious, but Ivan's men are good. They wouldn't have moved on her without backup plans.
My phone buzzes with a text from Matteo:On my way. You better explain this shit.
I don't respond. Instead I reach back and brush a strand of hair from Evelyn's face. Her skin is soft under my calloused fingers.
"You're safe now," I say to her, though she can't hear me. "No one's going to hurt you again."
It's a promise I intend to keep, although I don't examine why. I just know that Evelyn Anderson is mine now—whether she wants to be or not.
CHAPTER 4
Iwake to the rumble of an engine and the sensation of movement. My head throbs—a dull, persistent ache that makes me wince before I even open my eyes. Something's wrong. The seat beneath me feels familiar, but I'm not the one driving.
The events before I blacked out come rushing back in fragments. The charity event. The drive home. Men in the lobby. Violence. Pain.
I force my eyes open, blinking against the dim light of passing streetlamps. We're on a highway. My car. But not my hands on the steering wheel.
A man I vaguely recognize is driving—dark hair, strong profile, the same man who appeared out of nowhere when I wasattacked. The same man who was watching me at the Feretti celebration.
Fear and rage surge through me at once. I jerk upright, ignoring the spinning in my head.
"Who the hell are you?" My voice comes out raspy but loud in the confined space. "Why are you driving my car? Stop this car right now!"
He glances at me, his expression maddeningly calm. "You're awake."
"Obviously! Pull over immediately!" I reach for the door handle, not entirely sure what I'll do if he actually stops, but desperate to escape.
"I wouldn't do that. We're doing seventy on the Belt Parkway."
I look out the window, recognizing the stretch of highway along the water. We're heading away from Manhattan. Away from home. Away from safety.
"You're kidnapping me." The reality of my situation hits me like a physical blow. "Where are you taking me? What do you want?"
My violin case sits on the back seat—at least he brought that. Small comfort when I'm being abducted.
"The men who attacked you work for Ivan Volkov," he says, as if that explains everything.
"I know who they work for!" I snap, though I'm surprised he knows. "That doesn't answer my question. Who are you?"
He takes a curve too fast and I grab the door handle to steady myself.
"My name is Noah Rivera."
"Well, Noah Rivera, you can't just take someone against their will. This is kidnapping. There are laws?—"