Fuckity, f**k, f**k, f**k.

“Mr. Zano wants to see you,” the big guy in the passenger seat turned to tell me.

“Okay,” I said, deciding to be cooperative in order not to get beaten up, shot at, chained to a sink, car bombed or the like.

“You know Mr. Zano?” he asked.

“No,” I told him. I mean, I knew several Zanos, including Uncle Vito and Dom’s shit-hot cousin Ren Zano, but I could call both of them friends and neither of them would kidnap me.

He looked at his friend then back at me. “Mr. Zano knows you.”

“Okay,” I agreed, even though I knew no kidnapping, having beefy-henchmen “Mr. Zano”.

“Mr. Zano also knows you were at Dominic’s house last night with Stark. Are you like The Law?” he asked.

“Law” was Jules’s street name. Jules was a social worker and months ago she’d started a (rather successful) one-woman vigilante operation against the drug dealers in the city. This was part of why she was shot. She also worked with Lee’s boys for a few days and did what she did with them so well it significantly enhanced her street cred. She didn’t do that anymore but apparently she hadn’t been forgotten.

“No,” I repeated.

“What were you two doin’ there?” he went on.

“Sissy Vincetti is my friend. She left Dom and she wanted some of her stuff. We went to get it for her,” I lied.

He looked at his partner as if his partner could confirm my story. His partner shrugged. The guy talking to me lost interest in our conversation and turned back to the front.

I looked out the window trying not to hyperventilate as we pulled up to red light and my eyes moved across the street. Brightly lit and totally still open was a Walgreen’s.

I looked to my door. It was unlocked.

I looked to my kidnappers. They weren’t paying any attention to me.

I didn’t know Mr. Zano but I knew anyone who sent two big goons after a woman was someone I didn’t really want to talk to. I’d also heard on a TV show once that it was actually hard to shoot someone considering bullets were little tiny things, targets were usually moving and most people were bad shots.

I sighed, said a little prayer, promised myself that tomorrow I was drawing up a will, opened my door and took off like a shot.

“What the f**k!” One of the guys shouted.

I zigzagged across Broadway, throwing my arms out as I got from the southbound lane (where the traffic was stopped), to the northbound lane (where traffic was flowing). Cars honked and swerved and I ran in my high-heeled sandals as best as I could.

I hit the sidewalk and heard him pounding behind me, more cars honking and I was worried he was close.

Damn, damn, damn it!

I kept going, not looking back, the automatic door swooping open and I ran directly to the cash register.

I stopped, bent over, breathing heavily as the cashier said to me, “Are you all right?”

I looked at the doors.

The Passenger Seat Guy was stopped outside the door and glaring. He pointed at me, moving his mouth saying something I couldn’t hear and then turned and jogged away.

I watched him go, memorizing as much as I could about what he was wearing and how he looked. When he disappeared, I turned to the cashier and said, “I’ve just been kidnapped. I need you to phone the police.”

* * * * *

In the next fifteen minutes, I met both Roxie’s boyfriend Hank (he looked like a Nightingale, tall, lean and handsome as all get out) and Jet’s boyfriend Eddie (he was Mexican American, also tall, also lean and f**king hot). They were both cops and they were the first to the scene after the squad car.

Two minutes later, Luke’s Porsche glided in and parked in the yellow lined area right at the front doors next to Eddie’s red Dodge Ram.

Crapity, crap, crap, crap.

He strode through the doors and all the Walgreen’s employees took a step back after one glance at him. I figured they did this not only because he looked like he wanted to rip someone’s head off but also because he looked like he could.

One of the cops straightened when Luke arrived at our huddle. I was sitting (more like shaking like a f**king leaf) on one of the cash register counters and all the cops were surrounding me.

“Stark,” the uniform cop said.

“You all right?” Luke ignored him and asked me.

I nodded.

“You know her?” The other uniform asked.

“Yeah,” Luke bit off.

There were two uniform cops, one youngish-looking white guy and one handsome black guy. They looked at Luke then at me then at the way Luke was staring at me.

“Oh shit,” the white cop said.

“This your woman?” the black cop asked.

“Yeah,” Luke answered.

“I am not your woman,” I snapped.

“Oh shit,” the white cop repeated.

Eddie, standing beside me, chuckled. Hank, standing by Eddie, looked at the ceiling.

“We gotta take her to the station. Take her statement, show her mug shots,” the white cop said.

“I’ll take her to the station,” Luke told them.

“Works for me,” the black cop said.

“Wait!” I cried, jumping off the counter. “Aren’t I supposed to go with you guys?”

They were already on the move.

“You can go with Stark,” the black cop told me.

“What if I don’t want to go with Stark?” I asked.

The black cop looked at Luke and grinned. Then his grin swung to me but he didn’t answer and he and the other uniform walked away.

“Go on vacation,” Hank advised Luke, also moving toward the door. “Seriously, Luke. Just pack her up and go. Let whatever this is blow over. Come back in a month.”

“That’s good advice,” Eddie agreed, following Hank. “Go somewhere far away. Australia.”

Then they were both gone.

I stood, still trembling because, let us not forget, I’d just been kidnapped and I watched the automatic doors close behind Eddie.

My eyes moved to Luke.

“Let’s go,” he said and his hand came out, palm up, toward me.

And I swear to God, I had no control over what I did next. I looked at his strong hand and walked forward, ignoring the hand. I moved right by it, kept walking until I collided with his hard body, head on. I shoved my face in his chest, grabbed fistfuls of his shirt right next to my cheeks and held on while I let the tremors overwhelm me.