Chapter One

Gigi clutched her purse closer and squeezed her phone in her hand. Her car wasn't too far away, but this area wasn't the safest in the city. It was interesting how one block down everything was big skyscrapers and offices, and one turn and a few hours after dark, the place became home to thugs, druggies, and drunkards looking to rob you, or worse.

"One more block," she murmured.

She stopped in her tracks.

"Shit." Further up the street there was a street brawl. People were shouting and screaming, egging on two guys who were savagely beating each other. There was no way in hell she was going through that. She'd have to take a detour. She glanced around. Okay. If she went down this other street, she could veer left and head back up. She glanced down at her phone and shakingly marked the numbers 911. If anything happened, all she had to do was press "call."

"Let's do this, Gigi. Nothing is going to happen."

She picked up her pace and headed down the dark corridor. The only streetlamp still glowing flickered and died. She cursed. Fumbling with her phone she found the flashlight app. The white glow barely illuminated a few feet ahead of her, but she'd take it.

Where was the street she had to turn? Was it this one or the next one?

"Damn," she whispered.

She stopped and unblocked her phone. Opening the Maps app, she took stock of her surroundings. She'd gone too far. Tracing back her steps, she followed the blue dot into the correct alley. Glancing up, she froze, a scream of horror stuck in her throat.

Two men blocked the passage. One of them had the other grabbed by the throat, slowly lifting him off the ground, his body trembling as his life was taken from him. Her phone clattered to the floor, her flashlight shining on the other man's face. He glanced at her. His features were clear, from the dark strands of unkempt hair down to the square jaw. However, what caught her attention was the open white shirt and the blood-red rose tattooed on his neck.

Mafia.

She recognized the mark. She'd seen it on TV a few times. Panic threatened to consume her, but at that moment the victim grabbed the mobster's forearm, recalling his attention.

Gigi ran.

She didn't know how she made it to her car and drove away. She couldn't recall if she'd gone through the fight, taken another route, or magically teleported herself to her vehicle. The back of her legs ached, and she couldn't stop shaking, but she'd made it home. Rushing indoors, she'd shut everything. Finally, she'd sagged onto the couch. She was safe.

Taking in a shaky breath, her heart skipped a beat. Reality punched her in the stomach, and she sat up dry-heaving.

Her phone. She'd dropped it and hadn't picked it up. She'd left it in front of a criminal. He could find her. He would find her. She had seen him. Their gazes had clashed. She would recognize him. It was impossible not to. His tattoo was a dead giveaway. She shuddered. She'd never be able to look at a rose in the same way. Gigi closed her lids fighting back tears. His image danced behind them. Tall, heavily built, dark haired. He was but a shadow of a man, yet the vision paralyzed her with unspoken fear.

"No."

She had to do something. Her inner voice screamed at her to go to the police. She couldn't call them, though. She didn't have a landline and her cell phone was in the mobster's hands. She had to go to the station and report what she'd seen. She sat up straight and glanced at her front door. What had she seen? A large man choking another one to death in a dark alley. She rubbed her clammy hands on her pants. Was she really a witness? Could she describe the man she'd seen in detail? Not really. He had dark hair, a firm jaw, and clear eyes, but he'd been in the shadows. She couldn't testify in court. The only thing she was certain of was that horrible tattoo.

A car raced down the street, honking loudly, and she shrunk back. What if someone had followed her? Would they kill her next? She hugged a pillow to her chest, trembling.

No. She couldn't go to the police. Not right now, at least.

"Think, Gigi."

If she hadn't been able to look at him, then he'd probably missed her features too. Besides, if the police found the murder scene, they'd find her phone and come looking for her. She would then tell them everything. They'd understand. She clutched the edge of her couch.

However, what if the killer got her phone? He wouldn't hunt her down, right? She was just an innocent passerby. Surely, he had more important things to do.

"Besides, I didn't really see anything. Just some men fighting in the street," she told herself.

She placed her head in her hands.

If he took her phone, he'd see her pictures. He'd recognize her. He'd find out everything about her. Where she lived. Who her friends and family were. Passwords. Credit card information. Everything. Warm tears began to stream down her face.

Why had she stayed in the office after hours? It was all her boss's fault. If they hadn't agreed to take on that new client she could have gone home earlier, still under the protection of the light of day, and none of this would have happened.

What was she going to do?