Page 5 of Hostile Love
His question hangs in the air as I leave the room and march to the foyer, where I catch a glimpse of her dark hair through the front window.
You can’t run from this little firecracker.
Unanswered questions race around in my head. Who the hell is my real father? Am I even a Souza?
Moving outside, my boots kick up gravel as I chase her along the driveway. She’s quick though. I'll give her that.
When I reach the gates, she’s already left the safety of Blanco’s compound. My heart stops beating when a group of armed men burst out of a black van parked on the sidewalk and converge around her.
What the fuck?
I yell her name, too far away to reach her when she collapses. The fuckers must have drugged her. As two men haul her intothe rear of the van, I aim my revolver and start shooting at the fuckers through the open gates.
They retaliate, firing Uzi submachine guns right at me. Jesus fuck, this was a planned extraction.
Caught in the line of fire, a bullet skims the side of my left bicep—the pain intense. A barrage of gunfire flies everywhere, forcing me to take cover behind a concrete gate post while I reload.
My nostrils flare and I breathe through the agony I’m in, ready to go another round.
Blanco’s soldiers spill out of the mansion and appear from all sides, none of them aiming a weapon at me, but targeting the van.
I move out from behind the pillar, widen my stance and empty my clip into the street at the van, stupidly hoping I’d slow the vehicle down.
When it disappears from sight, my lungs burn and my blood ices over.
Mindlessly, I follow my feet back along the driveway, sprinting toward my motorbike. In a blur, I shrug my backpack in place, climb on, start the engine, and ignore the blood seeping into my sleeve.
I’m sure it’s only superficial, otherwise I wouldn't be able to move my arm properly. Not that a gunshot wound would ever stop me from going after Dani.
I’d drag myself from my deathbed to protect that woman.
Chaos continues around me. Armed men are jumping into SUVs now lined up in a convoy, but Blanco, he’s nowhere to be seen.
Not caring for him, I grit my teeth, open the throttle, and take off, hitting the street in zero to sixty seconds.
Putting the mansion and my family's secrets behind me, I follow the same road the van had taken, increasing the throttle, running red lights, and dodging traffic at a reckless speed.
I can’t think straight. The anger in me spreads like wildfire.
It doesn't matter how fast I go or how many turns I take, since I don’t have eyes on the van. I do remember the plates, though, and they could easily be traced.
Understanding tactics, though, I know the driver would change them or burn out the van when they’re finished with it. Though it’s my only lead, and the one thing stopping me from losing my mind.
Driving through the city with no direction, I eventually circle back to Blanco’s mansion.
That fucker owes me information and I need the names of everyone he’s screwed over lately, and all potential threats to Dani.
By the time I'm granted access through the guarded gates, my head is heavy, the adrenaline wearing off. There aren’t as many vehicles parked outside the front entrance this time and only a few armed men scattered about the grounds.
I switch off the engine and dismount, glancing at my hand. I’d been so pumped and driven to find her that I’d pushed the pain aside and skipped over the fact I’m losing blood.
A strange wash of loneliness runs through me. I glance over my shoulder to the street where I had last seen her and swallow, my throat dry.
This is fucking war.
Straightening, I glare at the armed guard in plain clothes who walks towards me, holding out a phone.
“Blanco wants a word,” he announces.
