Stolen from the Hitman: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance(76)

I catch a glimpse of Will as he enters his car, another mobster shoving Liv into the back with him, and the car peels out into the road with two others following after. There’s a black sports car I arranged to be waiting for us at the bottom of the steps — it was going to be the chariot I whisked Liv away in after the ceremony, onto a better life. It still will be. The reception will just be a little more exciting, it seems.

Pushing more of the confused guests out of the way, I bound down the steps and vault into the vehicle, and a moment later, my car roars, smoke flaring up behind me to the sounds of gasps from the guests as I leave them in the dust on the trail of my bride.

Slavers never know when to stop. They never can. They cater to a beastly lust that seems bottomless in men, and putting this ring down for good will bring me nothing but the utmost satisfaction — not only because of what they are, but because of what they dare try to take from me.

The three cars are fast, and they’re past the point of regarding caution in any capacity. I wonder how long it will be before the police are on our tail, but I suspect we’ll be long gone before that’s a concern. I see the last car taking a sharp turn down the lane, and mere seconds later, I’m right behind it.

“Mudak,” I mutter under my breath as I realize the rear vehicle is putting on the brakes as we careen down a narrow road, pedestrians crying out in terror and a man on a bicycle leaping off and onto the sidewalk. The rear of the car swerves in my path as I try to get around, the small vehicles lining the road blocking our path as bumpers. I realize that there’s no way around him, and the two cars in the lead are quickly getting away.

I reach under my seat and pull out the gun I’d stowed there. There’s an alley coming up on my right — narrow, but it will have to do. Even at my own wedding day, I can’t seem to shake the old habits. I roll down the window, and the moment I reach the alley, I use the handbrake to screech to the side, aiming my gun and firing off two shots at the car in front of me before I blaze down the narrow alley. The pops I hear from the rear car’s tires tell me my shots landed true, and I smile as I smash through a trashcan in the alleyway, a terrified cat leaping up into a window to watch me fly by.

My car exits the alley into oncoming traffic. All around me, petrified motorists honk and jerk their wheels away as I surge upstream, gathering speed rapidly, and to my left, I soon start to catch flashes of the other two cars the next street over. But I won’t be trapped in the back again.

In a matter of seconds, the road curves into where the other two are heading, and my tires screech as I turn into traffic after them, driving parallel with the rear car. I have a clear shot at Will’s car, but I can’t risk hurting Liv. And damn it all, Will knows that.

But the next moment, I look over to my left as I realize the rear car is turning into me, and the side of the car collides with mine, sparks flying, and I lower my head as gunshots ring out a moment later from their passenger’s side. I pop up and fire back, and I hear one of them curse as the gunman’s blood gets on the driver, his face falling forward onto the dashboard. Both cars take a sharp turn, and my car zips by, just missing it. Once again, I tear around the block to see them heading for a road that leads out of the city, back into the country, towards the Domaniale d’Armainvilliers in the southeast.

Once we’re out of the sea of buildings, the damage to the rear car is more obvious, and I make a mental note to see about getting a new car to replace this one. It’s a shame. I’d looked forward to giving Liv this car, but scratch marks and bullet holes just won’t do.

But the open road affords too much exposure for their comfort, and before I can get a shot in on the rear car’s tires, they take a turn into a sleepy suburb between the city and the forest, and we find ourselves racing through a sea of upscale houses with ample fencing.

Dogs bark at our passing, and a few of the joggers start getting on cell phones and climbing house fences for safety as we approach. I see the two cars heading for a narrower road up ahead, but I’m not about to let that happen. Accelerating, I get up beside the rear car and waste no time in ramming into the side of it, feeling glass shards from their window pierce my arm.

“Ruskie svin’ya!” I hear the growl from the other car, and I steer the car sharply to the left, silencing the man as the car collides with a telephone pole, leaving it behind as I blaze past after the car driven by Will: the car bearing my bride.

In the rear-view mirror, I see the car in the back looking half-melted around the telephone pole, smoke rising from it, and I turn my attention back to the front, where I realize Will is taking the nearest road off into the forest, onto a dirt path leading through thick foliage.