Undeniable: Dom & Gigi (Beg For It 5) - Page 28

She looked into my eyes and without any hesitation she answered, “yes.”

“Then do as I’ve asked. Where can I find a bag for you to pack?”

“Um, like an overnight bag? The hall closet. I’ve got a tote there.” She headed into the bathroom. I pulled out a pink-and-green striped canvas tote monogrammed GMK. Not exactly a nondescript black duffle, but it would work.

She was taking too long. I paced, wondering what the hell she was doing in there. This wasn’t a vacation she was packing for.

“We’ve got to go,” I called quietly into the bedroom.

“Just a sec.”

Another five minutes later, she walked out wearing a bright pink cashmere sweater and fitted jeans, holding some clothes in her arms. “Should I bring a bathing suit?” My phone rumbled with a text.

* * *

Colt: Back with the car. A man just entered the building. Not good.

* * *

Dom: Meet us out back. 85th and Park.

* * *

“Let’s go. Now.” Dropping the tote, I grabbed Gigi’s hand. She gasped as I pulled her forward, clothes tumbling to the floor. She was wearing high-heeled boots, not the sneakers I’d told her to put on, but they were better than nothing. She started to ask a question, but I put my finger to my lips again, hustling us to the door. Just before my hand touched the doorknob, I heard a loud thump out in the hallway. The kind of sound a body made when it hit the floor. I drew my gun.

“Stay behind me,” I whispered. I counted to three, then opened the door to a man in black very much not the security guard. Surprise on my side, I fired first and down he went, next to the kid he’d just taken out.

Gigi screamed as I pulled her into the doorway, shielding her with my body, looking right and left. After the noise of a gunshot, we only had seconds before neighbors started poking their heads into the hallway. I spotted an exit sign and ran with her toward it. The stairwell was empty and we started running downstairs.

“Did you just—? Who was—?” she gasped, trying to keep up.

“You got to run, Gigi.” I pulled her faster, wondering if I should hoist her onto my back. She might twist an ankle in those heels. But she managed to book along with me. We made it down to the lobby floor, but I kept leading us down another level.

“This takes us to the fitness center,” she warned me.

“And a back entrance?”

“Only open between six and midnight.”

“Show me.” If there was a door, I’d open it. The fitness center was dark and deserted. She led me out a side door, then down a hallway right up to exactly the back entrance we needed. All locked up for the night.

I examined the lock. It was electronic and complex, but I bet I could shoot my way out. “Stand back.”

“Wait.” Gigi put her hand on my arm and waved through the window. Was she crazy? “Hey, could you?” she mouthed to someone outside. Quick as a wink, a doorman came to open the door from the outside for Miss Kavanaugh.

“Enjoy your evening.” He tipped the brim of his cap to us, asking no questions. That was easier than blowing out the lock.

I walked us along quickly, not wanting to attract attention with a run. Every shadow, every car posed a deadly threat, but I didn’t see any movement and we traveled swiftly. When we rounded 85th, an SUV with dark tinted windows was parked in a no parking zone. It was either our car or the bad guys’, and there was only one way to find out.

Staying in the shadows, we approached. No sound, no movement. I darted forward and tested the driver’s handle. It opened.

“Get in.” I didn’t have to ask her twice. She scrambled over the driver’s seat and into the passenger’s. I followed, found keys under the driver’s seat, fired it up and sped into the dark city street.

“What just happened? Who was that man? Is he dead?” Gigi’s voice had a note of hysteria.

“Buckle your seatbelt.”

“Dom, you just shot someone!”

“Gigi, buckle your goddamned seatbelt.”

After a moment, she grabbed the belt and I heard a click. But I could see her gripping the seat, white-knuckled, especially when we sped through Central Park like hell on wheels. I swerved left on Columbus, right on 83rd, left on Broadway, each time waiting until the last second and crossing lanes in case anyone might be tailing us. It wasn’t exactly a cloak and dagger disappearing act, but it was the best I could do on the tight grid of the city while also following GPS to get us toward the parkway.

In the rearview mirror, a black Explorer advanced on us.

“Get down.” I reached over and pushed Gigi’s head down between her knees. I didn’t want to hurt or scare her, but whatever I did would be a lot nicer than what they had planned.

They started gunning it, trying to come up alongside and get a good look in. Maybe a good shot, too. I gave the window a rap and sure enough it sounded low, dull and bulletproof. Colt had come through for us. I swerved onto the parkway, but they did, too, maneuvering around another driver. I’d planned on taking the Lincoln Tunnel out of the city, and they figured as much. I got into the right lane and merged on, making sure they did, too.

But then I shifted, quick, into the left lane, jammed into reverse and sped backwards at 40 miles an hour. Gigi screamed at the top of her lungs, sitting up and pressing her hands against the ceiling of the car like that would help us not crash. I’d been trained for this kind of maneuver, but no amount of training could ever make backing out of the Lincoln tunnel safe even in light, two thirty in the morning traffic. I swerved around one oncoming car, beeping at me like I didn’t know I was doing something insane. I swung out to miss another, then another, until I could finally dish us back out to where I could swing a U-turn and merge back onto the parkway.

“What the fuck was that?” Gigi shrieked. “Are you trying to kill us?”

“I’m trying to make sure you don’t get killed, sweetheart.” I checked my rearview mirror. No car was coming after us. I might have lost them, but they’d gotten our plates. I was going to need to switch them out sooner than I’d hoped.

“Who’s trying to kill me?”

“Seems that Kavanaugh Investors has pissed off the wrong people.”

“But I don’t have anything to do with them!”

“It’s a family business and you’re family.” I sped us down toward the Holland Tunnel, hoping we wouldn’t find a surprise waiting for us once we got across.

“I’m an interior designer! How could they think I’m a threat?”

“They don’t. They’re trying to get at your brother.” She needed a lesson in how bad guys thought. I guess they hadn’t covered that at her fancy college. They probably didn’t offer Bad Guys 101.

“But that doesn’t make any sense! Dom, seriously, this is crazy. You should pull over, and we should call

the police.”

“Princess, I am your police.”

“What does that even mean?”

“The kind of guys after you? Cops won’t make them bat an eye. But I’ll keep you safe.”

“Where are you taking me? This is crazy.” You know what was crazy? She took out the cell phone I didn’t know she had on her and started making a call. I snatched it out of her hands and slipped it into my back pocket. I’d toss it right out the window but then someone might find it. I didn’t want to give the NYPD anything else to mull over. The bodies outside Gigi’s apartment door and her sudden disappearance would be enough on their own. It would be easier to get Gigi to Arizona and stay hidden if her face wasn’t on the TV news. I hoped Colt’s army of lawyers had their sleeves rolled up.

“What the hell are you doing? You can’t just take my phone!” Now she got hysterical, grabbing at my arm, pulling at my shirt. Evading hot pursuit was going to be challenging enough on its own without her losing it.

“Gigi, you need to calm the fuck down,” I snarled. “And if you don’t, I’m going to pull over and throw you in the back seat where I will bind and gag you.” She pulled back as if I’d slapped her. She might hate me for threatening her like that, but she needed to know who was in charge. “You sit there with your hands in your lap, stay buckled and don’t say a goddamned word until I tell you.”

“You’re crazy,” she muttered. But after those words, she did as she was told, sitting still and staring out the window. She looked furious, but that was better than panicked. Making her hate me was a small price to pay for keeping her safe.

Out in New Jersey, I saw no sign of our pursuers and I focused on getting us onto the interstate. In an hour, I pulled over into an empty truck stop. Under the dark cover of night I changed out our license plates, then smashed her phone and tossed it into a dumpster. Soon after I got us on the road again, despite herself, I saw Gigi’s eyes start to close, then jolt open, then close again. By the time the sun finally rose she’d fallen asleep and she stayed that way for a few hours.

Just past Pittsburg, around ten in the morning, I pulled into a McDonald’s drive-thru to get us some food and coffee. I walked her to the restroom and back. She glared at me like I was her tormentor. Fine, so long as she didn’t fall into the hands of the real deal. Then I got back to driving, focusing on the road, keeping an eye out for any signs of trouble.

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