Page 68 of King of Omen

Lorenzo peeked out the rear window once more, and his eyes widened. ‘They’re armed,’ he murmured. ‘Mauri, step on it,’ he urged, his voice tight and tensioned.

Mauri didn’t need to be told twice.

He tapped the accelerator, the SUV lurching forward as we sped down the narrow mountain road. The riders were gaining on us, their roars louder with each passing second.

They overtook us, engines rumbling like a pack of wild beasts.

Mauri gripped the steering wheel tighter, his knuckles turning white as they pulled closer, hemming us in.

The route ahead twisted and turned with no side roads, offering no easy way out.

‘It’s an ambush,’ the consigliere snarled.

As the riders drew closer, one revved their engine right next to my door, the loud throb reverberating through the vehicle.

I whipped my head as the bike roared past, my eyes locked onto the insignia of the coiled snake-like cyclone entwined with a rose printed on the back of the rider’s leather vest.

That’s when I jolted, staring in shock.

‘Give me the gun in the glove compartment,’ Lorenzo growled.

As if in a trance, I reached as commanded and pulled out the weapon.

However, I didn’t hand it over.

Instead, I held it, glancing again at the riders ahead of us and flanking the SUV to double-check.

I nodded to myself, confirming what I’d seen. ‘Mauri, stop the car. Now.’

Lorenzo knifed forward in his seat. ‘What the fuck, bella? He can’t right now. Hand over that weapon, too, so I can blast us out of here.’

‘There is no way we’ll make it if you start shooting,’ I muttered with wooden stubbornness.

Lorenzo stared at me,

‘Trust me, Mauri, stop the goddamn car,’ I repeated, ignoring my Italian complication.

The consigliere refused, shaking his head and flooring the pedal.

I took an inhale and braced for what I was about to do.

‘Forgive me, baby,’ I murmured, eyes on Lorenzo as I pointed the firearm at Mauri.

‘I said stop the fucking car,’ my snarl just audible over the din of engines.

Lorenzo’s eyes met mine, raking over my cold-as-ice expression.

He sucked his teeth and then gave a frigid command to his bodyguard. ‘Do as she says, fratello.’

Mauri inhaled so sharply that his heated breath whistled through his nostrils.

He eased off the pedal, slowed the SUV and rolled to a standstill on the shoulder.

He kept the engine running, his eyes sliced at me, narrowed and dancing with dangerous flames.

‘What’s your play?’ Lorenzo growled as the bikies also decelerated and formed a ring around us.

A pair did a U-turn, rolled to a stop, leaned the roaring machines onto their kickstands and dismounted.

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