82

Gianna
A deep breath of salty air gave me focus, helped banish all the questions that had come from our Syracusian excursion so far. Alexei’s refined thug sent a fist flying at blistering speed toward one of the men he faced off against. It connected and sent the man sprawling. His buddy hit true with a punch of his own, but it only knocked the Russian’s chin back.
Alexei bent his knees and fell into a fighting stance I didn’t recognize, his fists raised like a boxer’s. Our two opponents rushed forward. Both had their eyes on me, but with a quick glance, the bigger of the two stepped in front of Alexei. They knew he’d need to go down first if they wanted me at all, to say nothing about Oleg.
Time slowed. My pulse hammered behind my ears. This was the moment I had been waiting for. As much as I wanted to demand Alexei answer all the questions that came with the Mafioso calling me by my mother’s maiden name, when you had a chance to escape, you either took it or regretted your hesitance later.
I danced forward on the balls of my feet. Alexei’s head snapped my way. He took a step to follow, aiming to stay parallel with me. My opponent reached my range first. He held one hand up with an apologetic frown on his thin face but tried to grab my arm with the other.
My shoulder spun back. I latched onto his upper arm and jerked him toward Alexei. My reluctant attacker stumbled into my captor’s side just after he connected with his own opponent, a fist to the jaw. All three tumbled to the ground but I didn’t wait to see what happened next.
I burst down the street, glad I’d packed a pair of sneakers. If I’d been wearing my favorite sandals, I’d have never made the turn down the next alley without falling on my face.
“Head back to the pier, I’ll find her!” Alexei’s voice echoed into the narrow alley I ran down.
His tone held no anger, but a hell of a lot of frustration. A traitorous part of me tried to insert a sense of pity for him in my mind. I’d left him in a mess, sure, but he’d kidnapped me and by the sounds of it, he and Oleg had taken the four men down easily enough.
At the end of the alley, I turned down the street. Narrow as the rest in this ancient part of the city, it wasn’t nearly as deserted as the last. A few people jumped out of my way as I thundered down the cobblestones. Someone swore at me in Italian but I dove into the next alley without response.
A clothesline hung between the buildings in front of me. A floral shawl dangled from it next to some whites. I leaped as I ran past. My fingertips just snagged the edge of the shawl. The whole clothesline sagged as I pulled, but it finally came loose. I wrapped it around my shoulders and kept running down the winding alleyway.
The next street widened enough for cars, at least one way, though only a couple crept down its path toward a larger open area. Tourists from the cruise ship crowded the square up ahead. Perfect. I slowed to a walk, brisk, but not a jog. Running now would only bring more attention to me.
I didn’t stop until I merged into the crowd of tourists. Most spoke English, a few with pronounced New Jersey accents. With the milling cruise passengers around me, I let them sweep me away. We traveled through the open square, a roundabout with a single car circling before it turned off down another narrow street. A few of the tourists stopped to take pictures of the fountain in the center. I had more important things to worry about than sightseeing.
The group continued down a narrower street, too small for cars, but almost every business had an outdoor stall. My deft hands liberated a pair of sunglasses from one table while the salesgirl haggled with a barking middle-aged tourist. He wore a Hawaiian shirt stretched across his gut even louder than his speaking voice.
A silk scarf at another table found its way into my hands. A few steps later, I had it covering my hair, knotted under my chin. Someone as observant as Alexei would probably see through the changes, but as long as I remained part of the tour, it shouldn’t be a problem.
The stalls my tourist entourage passed kept winnowing a few off at a time. A younger couple stopped at a small boutique, the girl dragging her partner inside. An old man perused the postcards of a souvenir stand.
As my shrinking shield continued on, the eyes behind my dark glasses darted everywhere. I kept my head shifting slower. If anyone looked my way, I wanted them to see only a tourist like all the others, not Gianna Marciano or La Rosa. It wasn’t just Alexei I’d fled, but the Sicilians who’d used my mother’s maiden name.
Too late, I realized the shield around me had fallen to a single woman walking in front of me. The tight dress she wore barely covered her ass. A waterfall of curly black hair cascaded over her shoulders, the split ends reaching that ample backside.
“No, Ange, I went alone, I left his cheating ass back in Tom’s River,” the woman barked into her phone with a nasal New Jersey accent, “that F-ing skank can keep him, for all I care. I’m going to enjoy my freedom.”
She’d taken the cruise alone? That could be useful. While she listened to whoever Ange was, I padded past her and up the street. I stopped in front of the window to a jewelry store, head on the signs in the display, but eyes straining my peripheral vision to study my target.
She carried a small handbag dangling at her hip. A white credit card shaped badge hung from a lanyard around her neck. The spring break before last, Katie and I had taken a short cruise. Those badges got you on and off the ship. My unlucky new friend should have nursed her breakup back in Jersey. She was about to have a bad vacation story to share with Ange. I had a way off this island.
“When he got us reservations at Lucinda’s, I thought he was going to pop the question,” the woman replied to Ange as she passed. Her head turned to the display of rings. “Hold up, I just saw the perfect ring. You know what, I’m going to go try it on, maybe I’ll buy myself a ring, I’m worth it. I’ll flash it in front of that bitch when I get home. Bye, Ange.”
She brushed past me. Her hands banged against the door to the jewelry store. It careened open, startling the man behind the counter. He stood from his stool and shook his shoulders before greeting her.
Oh, she almost took the fun out of it, making it so easy. I sounded like Alexei, wanting a challenge. That was his game because I only played to win. If that meant shooting fish in a barrel, I’d pull the trigger as many times as it took.
As the unluckiest woman in Syracuse tried on her first ring, I finally followed her into the store. The shop keeper looked away from the other woman and offered a nod. I matched it and his attention returned to hawking his ring to my target.