Chapter 4

Chapter 4

A fugitive at twenty-two.

That was the only thought that rang through my mind as I crouched behind the bar, holding Renzo's half-conscious body against mine. The police were everywhere, securing the perimeter and yelling that everyone was detained for questioning.

"Renzo, please," I whispered urgently, shaking him gently. "We need to go fast."

He groaned, his eyes fluttering open. "Les? What happened?"

"No time. We need to get out of here before the police find us."

The whole ruckus from the fire alarm I'd pulled was still in full swing. Guests were streaming out of the exits, police were shouting orders, and through the haze of fake smoke, I could see flashlights sweeping across the room.

"Everyone remain calm and exit the building in an orderly fashion," an officer's voice boomed through a megaphone. "Anyone found inside will be charged with obstructing an active investigation scene!"

I peeked around the edge of the bar. The main entrance was completely blocked by officers. The emergency exit was our only chance.

"Can you walk?" I asked Renzo.

He nodded groggily, struggling to his feet. "I got hit in the head when everyone started running. I think I passed out."

"Come on." I wrapped his arm around my shoulders and we began shuffling toward the emergency exit, trying to blend in with the panicked crowd evacuating the building.

We had almost made it to the door when a police officer stepped directly into our path, a flashlight beam hit us square in the face.

"Hold it right there," he ordered, his hand moving to his holster. "Everyone is being detained for questioning. There was a shooting incident here tonight."

My heart hammered against my rib cage as I tried to keep my face neutral. "My brother is injured, officer. He needs medical attention."

The officer studied us for a moment, his flashlight moving from my face to Renzo's, then down to our uniforms. "Staff, huh? Then you must have seen what happened. You two aren't going anywhere."

"Please, officer," I pleaded. "We don't know anything. We were just working—"

"Save it for the questioning," he cut me off. "Go wait with the others."

He gestured toward a corner of the room where several other staff members and patrons were being held, surrounded by officers taking statements.

I swallowed hard and tried to think of a way out. If they questioned us properly, they might connect us to Russel and his men. We'd be implicated in whatever criminal activities they were involved in.

"Officer," a smooth, authoritative voice called from behind us. "Perhaps I can be of assistance."

I turned to find a tall, handsome man approaching. He was dressed in a crisp, expensive-looking shirt tucked into tailored trousers, with shoes that screamed money. When he smiled, I caught the glint of a silver tooth.

"Mr. Gianni!" The officer straightened immediately, his demeanor quickly went from stern to respectful. "I didn't know you were here tonight, sir."

"I was just passing by when I saw the commotion," the man—Mr. Gianni—replied smoothly. His eyes flicked briefly to me and Renzo before returning to the officer. "What seems to be the problem?"

"There was a shooting incident, sir. We're detaining everyone for questioning."

Mr. Gianni nodded thoughtfully, then gestured toward us. "These two?”

“Staff. They were on duty at the time so they’re direct witnesses, maybe even suspects. We are yet to determine their involvement.”

My heart dropped to my stomach.

Mr. Gianni took one look at us and laughed. “Suspects. Them?”

The officer frowned. “Yes.”

“I think you’re just looking for a scapegoat to take the fall for this.”

The officers’ brows went up in surprise, “Excuse me?”

Mr. Gianni only smiled. “Let them go. I don’t think they know shit about what happened here tonight. Fights happen in bars all the time.”

I blinked in surprise. I'd never seen this man before in my life, and I was certain he hadn't been at the bar tonight. I would have remembered someone who looked like him. Yet he was vouching for us

"But sir, protocol dictates—"

"Of course, and I respect protocol," Mr. Gianni interrupted with an easy smile. "But the young man is clearly injured, and they both look exhausted. Perhaps we could make an exception just this once?"

The officer hesitated, looking between us and Mr. Gianni.

"Lieutenant Edwards is a personal friend of mine," Mr. Gianni added casually. "I'd be happy to explain to him why I felt these two deserve special consideration."

That seemed to do the trick. The officer nodded reluctantly. "Very well, Mr. Gianni. But we'll need their contact information for follow-up questions."

"Of course," Mr. Gianni agreed, then turned to me. "Your details?"

I quickly gave the officer our names and a phone number, praying he wouldn't ask for identification or our address.

"You're free to go," the officer finally said. "But don't leave town. We may have further questions."

I nodded gratefully, supporting Renzo as we moved toward the exit. Mr. Gianni followed us, his presence somehow making the other officers step aside.

Once outside, I turned to thank our mysterious savior, but he spoke first.

"You two look like you could use a ride home," he said, pulling out a set of car keys.

Before I could respond, he pressed a button, and the flashiest car I had ever seen beeped in response. My jaw nearly hit the ground.

"I—We couldn't possibly—" I stammered.

"My brother needs rest," I tried to explain, shooting a glance at Renzo, who still looked dizzy.

"All the more reason to accept my offer," Mr. Gianni replied smoothly. "It's late, and I doubt you'll find a taxi at this hour, especially with all this police activity."

Renzo nodded weakly. "Thank you, sir. That would be very helpful."

I shot him a warning look, but he ignored it. Mr. Gianni opened the rear door of his luxury car, and Renzo practically collapsed into the seat.

Left with no choice, I slid in beside my brother, still trying to process what was happening. Mr. Gianni got into the driver's seat.

"I don't think we've been properly introduced," he said, meeting my eyes in the rearview mirror. "Nikolai Gianni."

"Allesia Guerrero," I replied hesitantly. "And this is my brother, Renzo."

As we pulled away from the curb, I couldn't help but ask the question burning in my mind. "Why did you help us back there? You don't even know us."

Nikolai smiled, that silver tooth catching the streetlight. "Let's just say I have a talent for recognizing innocent people caught in bad situations."

I narrowed my eyes suspiciously. "Did he send you?"

"He?" Nikolai's brows furrowed.

"Russel—" I caught myself. "Never mind."

Nikolai's expression shifted slightly, but his smile remained. "I’m not trying to kidnap you or anything, kitten. Surely you must have heard of the Gianni Family?" I shook my head. "Look it up. I just happened to be in the right place at the right time, and you looked too innocent to be harassed by the police. I felt compelled to help."

"Well... thank you," I said, still not entirely convinced.

"You're welcome." He handed me a business card. "Feel free to call if you ever find yourself in trouble again. I'd be happy to help."

I took the card wordlessly, wondering what kind of person just handed out their contact information to strangers they rescued from the police.

The rest of the drive passed in awkward silence. I gave Nikolai directions that would get us close to our apartment building without revealing exactly where we lived.

When we arrived, I helped Renzo out of the car. As we thanked Nikolai and turned to leave, he rolled down his window.

"Allesia," he called, making me turn back. "If you ever feel like grabbing dinner sometime, you know what buttons to press."

Then he winked and drove off before I could respond, leaving me standing there speechless.

"Man, that guy is fucking hot and loaded," Renzo remarked dreamily as we made our way up to our apartment.

"Shut up," I muttered, helping him up the stairs.

We entered our apartment quietly, careful not to wake Mom. I got Renzo settled in his room with an ice pack for his head, then finally made my way to my own room.

I shut the door, leaned against it, and took a deep breath. What a night. First the gunfight with Russel and his men, then the police, and now this mysterious Nikolai Gianni appearing out of nowhere to save us.

I pushed away from the door and moved toward my bed, but stopped short when my eyes caught something on my bedside table—a red gift box tied with a silver ribbon.

I approached it cautiously, looking around my room for any signs of intrusion. The window was slightly ajar, which was unusual because I always made sure it was shut tight before leaving.

With trembling hands, I picked up the box and noticed a small note tucked under the ribbon.

"You are truly my saving angel. Make your decision fast. My offer still stands, I have to thank you properly—Mancini."

My heart pounded as I slowly opened the box. Inside were several bundles of cash, neatly stacked and bound.

I dropped the box back onto the bed as if it had burned me, backing away instinctively. How had he found out where I lived? How had he gotten into my room?

Another note sat beneath the money: "This should help you decide fast. And for helping us, I'm willing to add $1,000,000 to make my offer $3,000,000. Don't take too long, angel."

There was a small card containing his house address and phone number. The audacity!

I realized then that Russel Mancini had nothing to do with Nikolai Gianni showing up in my life. These were two separate, powerful men who had both inexplicably taken an interest in me on the same night.

And one more thing became crystal clear:

My life was about to get really, really complicated.