Page 173 of Sinfully Savage Mafia

I pull out my phone and hold it into the air. No bars.

I fist the sides of my hair. It’s rare I let anyone see me lose control, but my cousin and Enrico are my right-hand guys. If I’m gonna lose my shit, they’re the only ones who’ll ever witness it.

I pace around the car, hoping that I’ll step into a space where I can communicate with someone…anyone…using this damn phone. I roll my eyes skyward. I really didn’t want to have to deliver the news earlier than necessary to Matteo, but we can’t exactly hoof it back to the hotel. I grit my teeth, dialing Matteo’s number, walking around like a fool, hoping the call will connect.

And then, miracle of all miracles, it does.

It finally rings once, twice, three times…

“Are you serious?” I scream into the phone. “Where the hell are you?”

A screech of tires on the pavement jolts me and I jump, twisting to face the bright headlights flashing us.

“Hey, somebody is coming. Maybe they can help us—” Enrico starts to say, but the rest of his words are drowned out by a smattering of gunshots peppering the doors and windows of my car. I dive to the ground, Bruno landing right next to me.

“What the hell is going on?” Enrico yells, fumbling for his gun. I’ve already got mine in hand, firing off shots at the windows, hoping to pierce the skulls of whoever is inside driving that van.

A cold sensation snakes around my gut.

Whoever is inside.

Whoever, my ass!

I may not know who’s inside of that van, but I sure as hell know who sent them.

Fucking Torres!

He didn’t like me making a threat, so he decided to carry one of his own out in retaliation.

I stagger toward the side of my car, gunfire exploding into the otherwise still air. The van has slowed to a stop and the back window opens, unleashing a sea of bullets cracking and popping against metal and glass. Seconds pass, stretching into what feels like years as I duck and weave to escape the flying shards of glass.

I pop my head around the top right bumper, still ducking low to the ground as I fire one last bullet at the tires. A screeching sound is followed by a loss of control as the van skids left and right before peeling away on the dead tire.

I collapse against the side of the car, short, harsh pants expelling from my lips. Breathing feels like the slivers of glass are digging into my chest, slicing at my lungs, and I lay my head back on the roof.

“Guys,” I rasp when I can draw in enough air to mutter the words.

But I’m greeted by silence.

“Guys!” I yell, twisting around to look for Bruno and Enrico. I don’t see them so I run around to the back of the car where Enrico is sprawled out on the ground, blood gushing from a wound in his side. Bruno leans over him, pressing his jacket against it in an attempt to stop the bleeding.

“It’s not working,” he grunts. “If we don’t get him the fuck out of here, he’s gonna bleed out!”

A blaring ringtone erupts from my pocket and I grab my phone, stabbing the Accept button. “Matteo?” I yell.

“Why aren’t you back from the meeting yet? Are you still negotiating,yourway?” he snaps.

“Don’t fucking start with me! That asshole tried to kill us!”

“Didn’t I say you were out of your league with him?”

“Matteo,” I say, my voice shaking. “The guy fucked with my car and then sent his guys after us after the meeting! They shot Enrico and he’s gonna fucking die if we don’t get him help! So find the Doc and get out here! We’re on the road leading to the club.” My eyes fall to Enrico’s face which is getting whiter by the minute. “He’s in bad shape,” I mutter. “Hurry!”

Matteo mutters some colorful expletives and hangs up the phone without another word to me, but I’m sure there will be many more spewed at me later on when we get back to the hotel.

I stuff my phone back into my pocket and drop to my knees next to Bruno. I bring a hand to Enrico’s face. His skin is cold and clammy, his lips as pale as his skin.

I slam my fist into the side of the car, pounding it against a bullet lodged into the bumper as a deafening roar erupts from my lungs.

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