Emilia (Part 1)(14)

Bang!

A gunshot pierced the silence of the otherwise deserted street. My throat closed on itself, and I blinked back the urge to cry. I fumbled with the latch on the glove box, seeking out the spare gun I knew Tony kept there. When my hand closed around the icy metal grip, I bolted out of the car, not bothering to fully shut the door behind me.

Sprinting around the side of the building, I stuffed the gun into the waistband of my jeans. The hard slapping of my boots against the fractured sidewalk boomed in my ears. My breath came in jagged pants.

Around the back of the building, a man’s sprawled out body partially blocked the open metal garage door. Blood dripped from the side of his neck, and his face was locked in a stomach-churning combination of surprise and fear. If I had any sense at all, I would have run when confronted with the sight in front of me.

I stood frozen, my eyes unblinking and my body humming with adrenaline. The scene was like a giant black hole, sucking me into its vortex of terror whether I consented or not.

“Emilia, run! Get the fuck outta here!” Sal’s thunderous shout snapped me out of my shock.

I spun on my heel, not making it five feet before I stumbled on the uneven pavement. My knees and hands slammed against the ground, pain vibrating up my limbs. I scrambled forward, crawling like a baby, ignoring the smears of blood on the pavement documenting my pathetic escape attempt.

Someone grabbed me by my hair and jerked me to my feet. My scalp felt like someone had set me on fire. The barrel of a gun pressed against my temple and another arm snaked around my waist.

“Go ahead and try it, Sal,” a man behind me growled, his warm expulsion of breath searing the side of my neck.

“Please, no,” I mumbled, my legs threatening to buckle under the weight of my mounting hysteria.

Sal stood across from me with his gun raised, his eyes glowing with anger and the muscles in his jaw clenching. “Let her go, Frank.”

“Fuck you!” Frank yelled, spittle spraying the side of my neck.

“If you touch her, you’re as good as dead. That’s Dominick fucking Trassato’s only daughter. You harm a hair on her head, and he’ll hunt you down and cut you up piece by piece until you’re begging for death.”

Frank’s arm flexed around my waist and his entire body stiffened. “I’m not worried. No one will ever find out I was here today.”

“How do you figure?” Sal shot back, closing the distance between us. His gait was graceful and loose-limbed, suggesting he didn’t give a shit what happened to me. Maybe he didn’t. I was only some random girl he made the mistake of kissing one night. Nothing more.

“I’ll kill you both, and Ronny’s already dead so I don’t have to worry about any witnesses. Sounds clear cut to me.”

Sal shrugged, a smug smile sweeping across his face. “So kill her. I don’t give a fuck. She doesn’t mean a thing to me, and you’ll be playing into my hands. By the time you’ve wasted a shot on her, I’ll have planted a bullet between your eyes. You and Ronny will be dead, and I’ll look like a hero, avenging the boss’s daughter.” His voice was as fluid as molten silver without a single note of hesitation.

I whimpered, my limbs shuddering uncontrollably. Holy shit, this was it. I was going to die, and not only would nobody care, but my dad would probably promote Sal because he wouldn’t know any better. Wait, who was I kidding? My dad would probably think good riddance. He barely tolerated me these days.

My brain and my emotions disengaged from reality as if I were a bystander watching this from afar. There were only two options right now. I could go on blubbering and pleading for my life, or I could fight. There was a very good chance either option would end with my death, so I decided to fight. I slipped my hand into the waistband of my jeans, shifted the safety on the gun and curled my fingers around the cold, roughcast handgrip, all the while cursing myself for not checking whether the gun was loaded before I embarked on this foolish venture.

Sal and Frank’s bickering melded together into fuzzy, indecipherable sounds. My mind zeroed in on the feel of the gun slithering against my flesh and the cold puff of air that brushed across my exposed belly.

Rather than revealing my actions and aiming for his head or chest, I pointed the gun toward the man’s thigh and fired. My ears rang, drowning out the sound of my petrified heartbeat.

“Fucking bitch!” he grunted out, his gun slipping from his hand and spiraling across the ground.

He staggered, taking me with him. My body careened through the air, his arm still around my waist. The second we hit the ground, my skull whipped backward, slamming against his chin. Stars exploded behind my eyes, blurring my vision. Stunned, I froze in place with my back draped over his barrel-shaped chest. The scent of copper filled my nose, and a warm liquid seeped into the back of my jeans.