"I got a ride from?—"
A shadow fell across the doorway, and my blood ran cold. A man stepped into the apartment, his face vaguely familiar from the surveillance photos I'd studied. Dark hair, olive skin, expensive suit.
"Fuck," I cursed, lunging toward my pants that lay crumpled on the floor near the broken table.
Too late. The metallic click of a gun being cocked froze me in place.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," the man said, his accent light but distinctly Italian.
Elena gasped, and Ivy cried out, "Alfie, what are you doing?"
Alfie. Alfeo Malatesta. One of Fiorenzo Malatesta's nephews.
"Get back, both of you," Alfeo spat at the two women, who were already backing away from him.
They scrambled behind the couch as I slowly straightened, hands raised. Alfeo's eyes gleamed with triumph as he bent down and picked up my pants, finding my holstered Glock.
"Well, well. I really got lucky tonight, didn't I?" He grinned, tucking my gun into his waistband. "All three of you in one place."
The pain hit me a second after the deafening shot rang out—a sharp, burning sensation in my left leg. One of the girls screamed, although I wasn't sure who.
I staggered back, crumpling to the floor as my leg gave out, my hand instinctively going to the wound. Warm blood seeped between my fingers.
"That's to make sure you behave," Alfeo said, the gun now pointed at my chest. "The Donatis will be eager to make a deal for you. They tend to take care of their own." His gaze shifted to Elena and Ivy, cowering behind the couch. "Besides, I know there's a story with these two ladies."
Options, scenarios, they all flashed through my mind quickly, the training and calculating mind rooted deep in my bones. With my newfound injury and the gun trained on me, my chances weren't good. And even if I could take him down, I couldn't risk Elena and Ivy getting caught in the crossfire. Elena was just a desperate woman if her story was true, which I wanted to believe. Facts would be the decider of that. As for Ivy, she was a civilian. I had to protect them.
"They're civilians," I said, keeping my voice steady despite the throbbing pain. "Wrong place, wrong time. They don't know anything."
Alfeo laughed, the sound cold and humorless. "The little whore was asking questions all over Velvet. There's definitely more going on here."
He pulled out his phone, keeping the gun trained on me as he made a call. "I need backup at 1432 West Avenue, apartment 3B. And bring the van." He ended the call and tucked the phone away.
"The whore—Candy, is it?" He looked at Ivy with a predatory smile. "Or should I say Ivy Halloway? You'll make a fine little toy. We can lock you in the basement until we use you up."
Ivy's face drained of color, and Elena gripped her friend's arm, her knuckles white.
Fucking prick.
"I thought you might be someone important, the way you were fishing for information," Alfeo continued. "But a little digging brought up nothing. Just a stripper with a big mouth." His gaze shifted to Elena. "As for you... we need to figure out who you are and how you tie into all this."
I shifted my weight slightly, testing how much mobility I had with my wounded leg and trying to bend my knee and toes. Pain burned through me, making me grit my teeth. I wouldn't be able to move fast enough, not even with the adrenaline pumping through me. Not at this distance. Not with the gun pointed at my chest and Alfeo's finger on the trigger. One wrong move, and he'd put a bullet through my heart. Or worse—through Elena or Ivy.
I was at peace with an early death, but those two… no, I couldn't risk them.
Blood continued to seep through my fingers, dripping onto the floor. The pain was manageable for now, but blood loss would become a problem soon. I needed to act before backup arrived, but I couldn't see an opening.
I was running out of ideas, and time was running out.
"You won't get away with this," I said, playing for time. "The Donatis will hunt you down."
"The Donatis," Alfeo spat. "Always thinking they're untouchable. My uncle's been too soft on them for too long."
I caught Elena's eye over the back of the couch. She looked terrified, but there was something else there too. She was thinking, planning, figuring out what to do, not waiting for a knight in shining armor, which wouldn't be coming. I gave her the slightest shake of my head, warning her not to try anything.
But I knew that look. I'd seen it in soldiers about to do something brave and stupid.
God help us all.
