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your tax forms.”
    They passed the room, and Angelica got a glimpse of a straight backed-woman, hair pulled into a taut bun at the back of her neck. She was sitting at a carved desk, head bent to cradle the phone as she spoke.
    “Mr. Vitale simply wants your word that all of the money will go to provide for the children,” she said as they continued down the hall.
    A donation? To children? What kind of mobster donated money to a kid’s charity? Or was it some kind of bribe? Hush money for an under-the-table favor. And why was an infamous New York mob guy working out of what could have been a swanky office? She was still puzzling over the questions when they came to a set of double doors. They were both closed, but she could hear thumping coming from within the room, and occasionally, a grunt or yell.
    Her gaze cut to Luca, hoping for some kind of explanation, but he kept his gaze focused on the door at the end of the hall. When they reached it, he stopped.
    “I have to cover your eyes now.” He reached for something, and for a few seconds she was free, one of his hands on the gun, the other reaching for his pocket and the dark pillowcase he would put over her head.
    She felt a surge of adrenaline. She could bolt for the door. It was right in front of her. But if Luca was taking her that way, someone was probably out there waiting for them. And while the house—or whatever it was—seemed civilized enough up here, she had no doubt she would be stopped before she made it down the long hall to whatever exit had to be at the front of the building.
    She tried not to feel defeated when Luca took hold of her arm again. She couldn’t afford to be stupid. She would make a break for it when she was sure she could get out alive.
    “Sorry about this,” Luca said, lifting the pillowcase over her head and pulling it down until the edges brushed her shoulders. “It won’t be for long.”
    Everything went dark, and she fought a wave of panic. “Are you... are you sure it’s going to be okay?”
    She felt the gentle pressure of his hand on her shoulder. “No harm will come to you tonight. I promise.”
    She nodded, too relieved by the promise to focus on his use of the word “tonight” and all the uncertainty it implied for her future.
    She heard the door open in front of her, then felt the touch of fresh air on the bare skin of her arms. For the first time since they’d taken her, she was going outside. She wanted to weep with the joy of it, and also with the unfairness of having her head covered so she couldn’t look up at the sky.
    “Any trouble?”
    She froze in her steps when she heard the voice. Dante.
    “It’s okay,” Luca said softly. And then, louder, “No trouble.”
    “You’re not going to leave now, are you?” she asked Luca, her feet still rooted to the ground.
    “I’m not going anywhere. Dante’s just driving,” Luca said. “Come on.”
    She reluctantly moved forward under the gentle pressure of Luca’s hand on her arm. She was helped up into some kind of big car. Luca slid in next to her, and the door closed behind them. They were encased in the muffled secrecy of the vehicle in the seconds before Dante slid into the front seat.
    “I can’t believe the fucking boss is doing this,” he muttered.
    “You don’t have to believe it,” Luca said. “That’s why he’s the boss.”
    “Don’t fucking remind me,” Dante said.
    The car started, and then they were in motion. She lost track of time as they navigated the streets, but she knew for sure now that they were in a city, probably Manhattan. Everything was muffled from inside the plush interior of the car, but she could make out the sound of honking, the clang of a fire truck, and once, someone with a distinctly New York accent yelling something obscene.
    The car zigged and zagged as Dante yelled under his breath. The gun was still at her side, but looser now. Good. Let Luca think she was a complacent little lamb. All the better for the