Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 70518 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70518 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
“Where the fuck is it?”
He was so close my stomach rolled. I closed my eyes and drove my knee up into his balls, but he closed his legs before I made it all the way.
When he took his hand from my mouth, I was about to scream when he landed a punch to my face that knocked the breath out of me. Pain radiated through my cheek and I whimpered, trying not to panic but failing.
“That’s a pretty face you got there,” he said. “I’d hate to have to break your nose, but I will.”
I tried to dart out from his hold, but he slammed me against the wall again. I cringed, waiting for the next blow to land.
There was a loud thudding sound, but nothing hurt. His hold on me loosened.
“Get the fuck off of her,” a male voice said.
A long stick was jabbed into my attacker’s stomach from the side, and I was finally free of his hold. My hand flew up to my injured face and I saw Luigi aiming the handle of a push broom at my attacker, Maria standing beside him wielding a snow shovel.
She’d hit him over the head with it.
“Get out of here, punk,” Luigi said, pointing the broomstick at the man.
My attacker grabbed the broomstick and pushed it aside, then shoved Luigi against the wall. Maria swung the shovel at his head again, landing a hard blow. He turned to her with a murderous glare and I did the only thing I could think of—I barreled into him at full force.
It didn’t help much. He shoved me to the ground and turned back to Maria.
“You like to fight girls and old men, you pussy?” a male voice said.
Mario stood at the entrance to the alleyway, a knife in hand. His expression was grim and determined.
“Girls, get inside the bakery,” he said. “The cops are on their way.”
Maria moved immediately, but I stayed frozen in place. I couldn’t leave and risk my attacker getting that knife and turning it on Mario.
“Lucy, come on,” Maria urged. “We have to go.”
Luigi got to his feet, limping as he went to stand beside his brother.
Maria tugged on my arm, passing Luigi the shovel.
“Go,” Luigi urged me.
I let Maria pull me into the bakery door, where I immediately ran behind the counter, searching every surface.
“Where are the knives?” I demanded.
“We aren’t going back out there,” Maria said. “The cops are on their way.
“We can’t just leave them.”
She steered me toward the back of the bakery. “Uncle Mario was Special Ops in the Army back in the day. He knows how to handle himself.”
I wanted to believe her, but Mario and Luigi were bakers, not mercenaries. What if this was it? What if that vile criminal outside got the knife, killed both Mario and Luigi, and then came in here for me?
I grabbed my phone from my coat pocket and sent a hurried text to Sawyer.
Lucy: There’s a manilla envelope hidden beneath the dresser in your guest room. If something happens to me, you have to get it to the person it’s addressed to. Don’t tell anyone about it. Just deliver it.
I hit send, and a couple of seconds later, the door of the bakery opened and Mario walked in panting. Luigi was right behind him. Luigi locked the door once they were both inside.
“He took off,” Mario said, sounding defeated. “He was too fast for these old dogs.”
“You guys saved me,” I said, my voice breaking with emotion. “I don’t know how to thank you enough for what you did.”
Luigi was carrying my bag, which I’d apparently left behind on the sidewalk. “Weird that the guy didn’t even take this,” he said. “He must have forgotten it.”
They thought I’d been the victim of a random mugging. I didn’t correct them.
“Dad, you need to sit down,” Maria said. “I’ll get ice for your knee.”
He waved a hand. “I’ll be fine. I just tweaked something when that asshole pushed me.”
“Get Lucy some ice, too,” Mario said.
He put the knife down on the counter and then put an arm around his brother to support him.
“You’re going to the office to sit down,” he said.
Luigi didn’t argue this time. He and I were both sitting in the back office when the police arrived. They were questioning me when my brother showed up, his eyes wide and panicked.
“What happened?” he asked me, taking in my face.
“I was attacked out front.”
His eyes widened. “What, like mugged? Jesus, I pinged your phone as soon as I got your text. Why didn’t you wake me up and ask me to drive you here?”
I looked at my lap, then turned back to him.
“I’ll tell you everything once I finish this police interview. I’m okay, Sawyer. The owners of this place saved me. Mario, Luigi, and Maria.”
He furrowed his brow, probably at the mention of Mario and Luigi. I’d have to explain later.