Dead Wrong Read Free Page A

explained.
    â€œIf you disagree with Nonni when she feels she’s absolutely right, she whacks you with the wooden spoon. Uncle only smacks your knuckles when you display bad manners. Vin gets it all the time, but Gio never got smacked by anyone.”
    â€œYeah, Saint Giovanni,” I muttered. “Thank God he wasn’t here tonight.”
    My mother stepped forward and glared at me for a second. Then she said, “Your brother is a good man and you know it. And not to change the subject, but where is Marcus tonight?”
    â€œYes, where is Marcus?” Aaron echoed.
    Cara piped up, “Yeah, where is he, huh? He could be the frosting on my cupcake, ya know.”
    With a look slanted in her direction, I explained Marcus was in Washington for a training program.
    â€œHe’ll be back in another day or so.”
    My glance skittered to Cara. “I’ll be sure to let him know about the frosting bit.”
    We readied to leave when Gina reminded me of a bicycle race, a fundraiser on Saturday. I agreed to meet the twins in Providence. Aaron bid everyone goodbye and left. I headed for home.
    The funeral took place without incident, and I dropped Nonni off at home. I swept through the remaining workweek with no difficulties. This alone should have been a prediction of things to come. My life is never, ever mundane. Not for long at least.

Chapter 3
    Cyclists swerved around the curb on the downtown Providence street. The race had drawn a crowd of onlookers and participants. Providence cops stood along the cordoned-off route making sure pedestrians didn’t stray into the paths of cyclers.
    The race, slated to take place weeks before, had been rescheduled due to inclement weather. Frigid wind stiffened the skin on my face. I ignored the cold, laboring to keep a steady speed. At least the sun shone brightly over the city.
    Through the wild flow of movement, I caught a glimpse of Gina and Cara as they pedaled closer. They huffed and puffed, faces beet red from exertion, determination set on their features. We’d started out side by side, but my long legs gave me the advantage over them. They’d quickly fallen behind – until now.
    Curious, I wondered how they’d managed to close the distance I’d put between us. I stand around five foot ten and have long legs – and I’m in great shape. The twins, on the other hand, are only five foot five, and they don’t work out or run as often as I do. They probably cheated somehow to get this far—I was sure of it. My thoughts moved on to the bicycle sliding up past my rear tire.
    The woman I couldn’t seem to outdistance rode close and kept rubbing my tire with hers – sort of like cars in races, only we didn’t have concrete walls surrounding us. The crowd cheered as we passed through Kennedy Plaza. I could see Officer Francisco DeMagistras wave as I approached the former train station.
    I smiled and kept my head down to maintain speed. Then, a hard tug on my tire threw me off balance. The lightweight bike flew out from underneath me.
    Wind rushed past. I catapulted sideways and crashed into several oncoming bikers. Bodies spilled onto the ground and bikes collided with flesh as I landed. My leg lay tangled within the spokes of an expensive racing cycle. With my helmet askew, clothes gritty, and knee throbbing in agony, I lay on the ground, knowing better than to move.
    The crowd swarmed past the ropes toward us. Other approaching cyclists stopped dead. I’d managed to bring the race to a halt – at least for those who’d been a lap or two behind. The rest? Well, I was sure they would pass the finish line any second.
    Scrapes covered my exposed skin, but scrapes were the least of my injuries. Francisco, Gina, and Cara scrambled over twisted cycles to the spot where I sprawled on the ground. I didn’t dare move my leg since it already throbbed. I knew I couldn’t get the bike off without