Frank gets a harsh reminder that walking in Central Park at night can be very dangerous.
When
I turned around, Viscount D'Alessio stood ten feet in front of me. The
hairs on the back of my neck rose. My body froze and my heart beat
against my chest.
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“Fancy meeting you here,” he said with a malicious smile.
“What do you want?” My voice cracked. I felt perspiration forming on my forehead.
“An
opportunity to chat with you, become better acquainted.” His smile
widened, making his teeth more obvious, as he stepped toward me. I
looked around and saw no one. I turned and ran, but I hadn't gone ten
strides when I found him in front of me.
“Running
won't save you, and your precious little tart isn't here to rescue
you.” He grabbed my throat before I could take a step, holding me off
the ground. “It's time to have the dinner I promised myself the last
time we met.”
He
pulled me into the bushes when I heard a voice shout, “Stop. Police.
Neither of you move.” A large man walked towards us. In his left hand he
held his police shield. With his right he pointed a large revolver at
us.
“What
a bother.” The Viscount tossed me into the bushes. “I'll take care of
you next. Make a move and your death will be slow and excruciating.” He
raised his hands as he walked towards the officer.
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