Unable to get my hands to cooperate, I fumbled with the latch on the glove box.
“Make this stop,” I pleaded to no one in particular.
A car hit our bumper. A loud crash echoed through my ears, and my neck whipped forward, then backward, slamming against the headrest.
Gian shoved my head down and flipped open the glove box. The shiny metal of the gun blurred through the air like a shooting star. I pinched my eyes shut. My muscles tensed, anticipating. Dreading. Fearing.
Bang.
The rear driver’s side window shattered. Glass showered the top of my head.
Bang.
Engines revved, and my heart escalated right along with it.
Bang.
Tires squealed.
A loud, piercing noise echoed through the car, and it took me a second to realize I was screaming. I slapped a hand over my mouth, not wanting to call attention to myself. With my head braced against my thighs, I stared blankly out the window, peering at the smattering of stars playing peek-a-boo with the heavily clouded night sky.
The car whipped around the corner, and my butt slid across the seat. My shoulder bumped into the leather-upholstered door. The second I lifted my head, Gian sideswiped a parked car. The side mirror exploded into tiny shards of glass. They glittered like diamond dust in the moonlight.
“Stay down!” he yelled, shoving my head down again.
“What’s going on?” I asked, my heart hammering hard enough to split open my ribcage.
“Exactly what you think.” He tossed his phone in my lap. “Call Tony. He’s in my favorites.”
The phone slipped out of my hand and fell to the floorboard. Blindly searching, my hand scoured the rubber floor mat. The seatbelt bit into my flesh with every twist and turn. Finally, the tips of my fingers brushed against the solid rectangle. I lifted it, slid my finger across the screen and called Tony.
One ring.
Two rings.
“What’s up?”
“It’s Evie.” My voice sounded like I had swallowed a cup of acid.
The car hopped up on the curb, and we narrowly missed a stop sign. My teeth clacked together, grazing the tip of my tongue when Gian yanked the steering wheel to the right and off the sidewalk. I clutched the side panel on the door, the coppery taste of blood hitting my tongue.
“Evie? Evie? Are you still there?”
“Yeah. Somebody shot at us and crashed into Gian’s car.”
“What the fuck?” he yelled. “Where are you guys?”
“Tell him to meet us at my house in twenty minutes,” Gian said, his gaze zigzagging between the road in front of us and the rear view mirror.
“Did you hear what he said, Tony?”
“Yeah. Yeah. I’m on it.” When the line went dead, I dropped the phone into my lap. A warm liquid trickled down my hand. Transfixed, I stared at the blood dripping from my fingers. It looked like ink in the dim light of the car.
Gian’s hand swept over the top of my hair. “I think we lost them. You can sit up now.”
I didn’t move. I couldn’t. I stared sightlessly at my hand, my breaths choppy and my mind blank. Tears dripped from my chin, and I realized I was crying.
“Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
I jerked my head rather than answering because there was no simple answer. My mind buzzed with too many jumbled emotions to communicate.
A few minutes later, we pulled into the two car garage on the garden level of Gian’s home, and I finally sat up. I blinked, cataloguing every fear and pain. My body ached, and nausea and uncertainty clawed at me, spreading through me like a slow drip IV.
The passenger door opened, and I still didn’t move.
“Come on, sweetheart. We’re safe now.” Gian circled one arm around my shoulder and the other under my knees. I buried my face in his neck, inhaling his scent like it was the antidote for everything that ailed me.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Gian
Still humming with adrenaline and my thoughts shifting like chess pieces, I carried Evie into my home. I didn’t know where to start. As much as I loved to believe otherwise, tonight wasn’t a random act of violence. Someone had targeted me. Or Evie. I couldn’t rule anything out at this point.
Sure, the Trassato family had enemies, which by extension were my enemies. We’d been battling for territory with the Russian Mafia for years as they flexed their muscle and crept out of Brighton Beach. They were big into heroin distribution, and for the most part, I stayed away from the drug trafficking business, which led me to believe they’d target the other capos before me. It didn’t make sense.
“Hey.” Tony stood at the base of the stairs. “Are you both okay?”
“Yeah,” I replied. “My car is fucked up, but we’re both fine.”