I nod and force down the hard lump in my throat. “All good,” I lie.
Content to have a response, he claims the fully loaded rifle on the ground, raises it and shoots behind me.
There’s a veil of lawlessness over his eyes now, his mission clear. The creases lining his forehead deepen when he drags me by the arm to another crate and checks over the top of it.
“Keep moving… I’m with you.”
“You’d better be,” I warn him, locking eyes before I crouch low, bunch up my dress, and scramble once again towards the breeze.
I catch sight of the velvety night sky beyond an exit big enough to welcome a semi-truck, a cargo bay. The roller shutter is still high and there are a few vehicles parked outside in the distance.
My heart is thundering in my chest as cool air licks my bare arms and goosebumps shower me. In a moment of madness, I pause, certain I’m hidden, and angle around to search for him in the chaos. But he’s not behind me like he promised.
I debate going back in. Only his instructions were crystal clear.
My lower lip quivers and a weight of dread sinks in my stomach. What if he doesn’t make it out alive?
I wipe my nose with the back of my hand and curse myself for feeling nauseous. So what if Giovanni’s trained for mortal combat? I still worry. Reno was an expert in security, yet that didn’t save him from an incendiary device.
It doesn't matter how many fights Giovanni has won in the past and walked away from with his life intact, because professional hitmen die eventually.
Trust him.
I grind my teeth together, checking around me and then dart out of the exit, falling to my knees behind the chassis of a navy Chevy truck, its silver wheel wells rusted. I hunker next to its mucky tire and peer over the dented hood, my body shaking with fear and exertion.
It’s only now that I see him emerge from the warehouse brandishing an assault rifle. His inky hair hooks his brow and the fitted black shirt he wears is unbuttoned to mid-chest where a tattoo peeks out.
Giovanni.
I resist the urge to shout for him. He confidently rotates to face the men firing at him and lets off a round of bullets before chasing the shadows the yard light creates.
When he’s that little bit closer to where I’m hiding, a van speeds up from behind, a cloud of dust whirling in its wake. Stopping abruptly, the back doors fling outward and more armed men pile out, each of them pointing their weapons right at him.
I contain a scream behind clenched teeth, my veins aflame.
“Bastards!” I grit out in a whisper, suddenly aware of the sharp pain my nails make from burrowing into my grubby palms.
“Put your weapon down, Souza.” One of them shouts.
There’s nothing I can do. I can’t save him. My arms ache with the need to reach for him, but I force myself to stay hidden. The burn of hot tears spills over my cheeks when he lowers his rifle, surrendering—completely surrounded.
In that fleeting second, time grinds to a halt and our gazes momentarily tangle. His eyes narrow a fraction, his tight expression ferocious. He nods once. Instinctively, I know he’s telling me to stay out of sight.
As quickly as the order passes between us, he pivots in his smart shoes and turns his back on me. Directed by prodding rifles, he starts walking back into the building, chaperoned by a crowd of men now holding him hostage.
No!
This can’t be happening. They’ll torture and then kill him. My shoulders shake when a tattered sob escapes me. Reno would be exasperated with me for allowing my emotions to get the better of me in this situation. My brother taught me better than this. Somewhere in the depths of my mind, I hear him tell me to weigh up my options and think clearly—to remember I’m the hunter.
I fist my hair, sinking to the ground, mindlessly hugging my knees and rocking myself back and forth while my heart pounds.
Think, God dammit. Think!
I take a mindless minute to pull myself together and come up with a plan. Giovanni is the priority, then Leo. However, I can’t help either of them if I’m dead. My lungs hurt when I inhale a deep breath and prepare to leave Giovanni behind.
Taking one last look over the hood, I fist the hem of my dress and use the shadows to scamper barefoot over the pavement, using parked vehicles as shields.
Maybe it would be a good idea to check for keys behind any of the visors and steal a truck. However, that would alert Blanco’s men to my discreet getaway. Knowing these streets better than I do, they would give chase and likely catch me. And even if I managed to get past the wire fence, they could easily follow me all the way to Blackwater and risk everything Gio tried to protect. His secret lair would go up in flames.
