Then she turned and left.
She was at the door of Mark’s truck when Branson appeared.
“What are you doing?” he said from the edge of the truck. She didn’t look at him, just continued to drop her bag in the back seat.
“I’m going to get him,” she said and got in the truck, starting it.
He appeared at her window, a solemn look on his face, as she rolled it down.
She knew that it could possibly be the last time she saw him. That the road that she was heading down, could quite possibly be the last road she traveled.
But she had to try.
Even if he was already dead.
She had to try.
“Thank you for all your help, Branson. I truly appreciate it. More than you will ever know,” she whispered, her eyes filling with tears looking at him.
It wasn’t his fault that this had all come to this.
If anything they had brought all this to his door.
“Fuck,” he muttered, running his hand through his hair. “I can’t go with ya, sweetheart. I’m still on parole.” Referring to the ankle bracelet that he had on.
“I’m not asking you to.”
He nodded, looking out to the side for a moment. “Here.” He reached behind and pulled out a gun, holding it out to her. “Get our boy back.”
She stared at the black metal, something cold sliding down her spine.
She had never even handled a gun before.
But as she thought about her Mark and the first time she had ever seen him, standing there staring down Ernesto, a fire filled her.
“The Mancini family says hello.”His words rang through her head.
Mark had killed for her.
He had protected her.
He had saved her.
And she would do anything for him.
