The dial tone fills my ears and, for every second it rings without picking up, dread threatens to swallow me whole.

A gruff voice resonates on the other end of the line and relief floods me.

“Hello?”

“Oliver.” A lump forms in my throat as I whisper his name. I swallow past it so I can speak. “Ali and I need a place to stay. Please.” I pause, holding back a cry from escaping. “She’s dead.” The words fall from my lips, and it’s hopeless. Tears cascade down my face, each one falling for a woman who didn’t deserve my tears, let alone my love.

“Shit, Lindsey. Get over here. You know you don’t need to ask.”

I stifle a cry and mutter, “Thank you.”

I hang up the phone and put it back in my pocket. I shrug my bag onto my back and rush to Ali’s side.

“Ali, honey, it’s time to go,” I whisper, gently rubbing her back. She nods, keeping her eyes down.

With her small hand in mine, I close the door on our past. Not once do I look back.

CHAPTER ONE

Lindsey

Eleven years later

Time is my enemy, absolution my craving.

Can I find redemption before there is no chance to turn back?

I glance at the world clocks lining the walls, their incessant ticking echoes through the building.

“Anything else I can help you with, Mrs. Marino?” The bank cashier secures the last stack of cash in my briefcase before pushing it over the counter toward me.

As I reach for the handle, I notice my five-and-a-half carat diamond wedding ring sparkling in the daylight.  It shines through the glass roof of the bank catching the cashier’s eye, distracting him momentarily.

My lips curve up into a perfected superficial smile. “No, thank you. That’ll be all.”

I step back from the counter and turn left toward the exit. The rhythmic click of my heels on the cream marble floor reminds me what little time I have left to pull this off.

Fifteen seconds.

Ten seconds.

Five seconds until he makes a call to an unsuspecting Mr. Marino.

The electronic doors to the bank open automatically and the cool city air welcomes me with relief. Chancing a last look at the bank cashier’s desk where I stood just a moment ago, I see the phone attached to his ear. His brows furrow as he speaks to the person on the other end of the line.

Two burly security guards appear in the corner of my vision and my adrenaline spikes, flowing through me so fast my heart thumps wildly in my chest. Their eyes undress me hungrily, their obvious interest in my appearance outweighing that of the bucket load of cash I’m carrying.

A rumbling exhaust sounds outside and I smile. A combination of relief swirls with excitement as I subtly hurry my ass into the passenger seat of the black Lamborghini, which pulled in. My door shuts with a loud thud and we’re off.

Oliver weaves in and out of the New York City traffic like a pro and finally, when we’re far enough away from the bank and stopped at a red light, I turn to him.

A forced smile graces his flawless face and his knuckles start to return to their normal color after holding the steering wheel in a death grip. “Mrs. Marino.”

I roll my eyes while pulling back the short bob-cut black wig off my head. Shaking out my hair, I throw the wig in the back seat and rip the ridiculous diamond off my finger. I drop it out the window of the car. “Thank God, that’s over.”

Reaching forward, I dial numbers into the keypad on the car’s dashboard and a dial tone sounds through the vehicle.

Picking up the line, a deep voice answers, “Talk to me.”

My hands tighten around the black case in my lap. “It’s done. Money’s been wired to the offshore account you have the details for. You’ll find all your millions there. I took the liberty of taking out my cut. But Enzo, you better get to those tapes. If he finds out–”

I’m cut off by his sharp voice piercing the air. “He won’t. It’s already taken care of. Nice job. You’re good. I’ll give you that,” he responds, his tone filtered with amusement.

A shudder ripples through me and I grit my teeth. “Get those charges dropped, Enzo. Or I’ll make sure you lose your mafia princess for good.”

I end the call, cutting Enzo off. Falling back into the comfortable leather of Oliver’s car, I exhale a long, slow breath. Finally, we can put this life to rest.

Closing my eyes, I block everything out and revel in the silence I know won’t last.

“You were cutting it fine there, Linds. That was too close.”

I twist my neck in Olly’s direction to find him glancing at me, eyes tight and full of concern. I know what he’s thinking.

My heart slows to a relatively normal pace and I reach across to cover his hand with my own. I squeeze reassuringly. “I know. No more now, Olly. We’re done.”

“Yeah, babe, you said that last time, too.”

My insides twist with nausea, the noose around my neck tightening.

How long until the chair is pulled out from beneath me?

CHAPTER TWO

Lindsey

A few months earlier

Instinct, an intuitive power, one we so often choose to ignore. Why? Why risk it all for the unknown?

I should have listened to my instincts. Instead, I walked the path to hell, into a nightmare bearing an unexpected gift, one that would guarantee a bittersweet demise.

The snow falls delicately through the air, a contrast to the horns blasting all around me. The heating in the taxi keeps me warm. I sink into the worn leather seat, letting the sounds of rush hour in New York City fill my ears like a familiar lullaby. It’s loud, busy. It’s home.

The sanctuary of the moment ends with my destination now within reach. I pass the driver some cash and push open the door. The frigid air brushes my warm cheeks as I step out of the taxi, meeting the cold January air. I fasten the scarf around my neck and pull my coat tighter around my body, clutching the sides. My sister had called for the first time in weeks and my heart lightened at the sound of her voice. The feeling became short-lived when I realized the reason for her call. She needed money, a place to stay. How could I say no when her shaky voice betrayed her fear? Protecting her was a natural habit I had yet to break, even at her age of twenty-two. I can’t keep coming to her rescue.

So here I am, waiting for her in front of the most disgusting strip club in Midtown, while running late to my own business meeting.

Kevin, a muscular African-American man, greets me at the entrance of the shabby building known as Sweet Tarts. Cracks decorate the walls and the paint is faded, the lack of care on the owner’s behalf on display for all to see. It looks every bit the grubby, below-grade strip club that it is. Kevin’s eyes find mine and his hand automatically retracts to the piece he’s carrying at his side. It’s hidden, but I know it’s there. My lips curve into a small smile at knowing I pose as a threat to a man three times my size. My reputation precedes me.

“Kevin. I’m here for Alison. You wanna go find her for me?” I give him my biggest and sweetest smile, hoping my charm will lead him to find Alison without me needing to step foot into this dump.

He sighs and twists his head to the side before turning back to me, unimpressed. “I’ll bring her out. Be back in a minute.”

Ali’s worked at the strip club owned by the Marino crime family for years, even while underage. I worked for them for nearly six.

The day Giuseppe Marino found us was the luckiest day of our lives.

It was also the worst.

It was the beginning of the end.