Page 43 of Bastard Prince
“Vinnie!” I cried, darting past Enzo and taking off toward the explosion.
“Francesca!” Enzo called from behind me, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. Because I was finally piecing things together, and it was not a pretty picture.
The black van.
The explosion.
This was another attack on me, only they had missed.
And I was terrified that someone else had been hurt in my place.
Racing across the parking lot, slipping between vehicles as fast as I could, I skidded to a stop when I reached the fire, the remnants of my own vehicle now a smoldering wreck of twisted steel and burning rubber.
“Vinnie!” I called again, trying to get as close as I could to the flaming mess in front of me. If I could only see inside, maybe I could get to him. Ineededto get to him. “Vin!”
Strong arms circled my waist, lifting me up off the ground as I tried to get even closer, feeling my eyelashes curl from the insane heat.
“Francesca, baby,” Enzo’s voice said in my ear, his words as firm as his grip on my flailing form. “Baby, no. You can’t get closer.”
“Enzo!” I shouted, unable to say more than that, but knowing he got it just the same.
“The police are on their way, Frankie,” he soothed, using my nickname for the first time. “They’ll sort it out.”
“But Vinnie,” I wailed, feeling my heart seize in my chest. He was my responsibility, my man, and I failed him.
“I know, baby,” was all Enzo said. All he could say.
A crowd had gathered, phones out and filming the mess, and I could hear sirens in the distance, making the journey out to the club. But I couldn’t take my eyes off the burning vehicle in front of me, my guilt and anger fighting for dominance in my heart.
“Hey,” someone shouted, their voice coming from my left. “This guy needs help! Call an ambulance.”
Wriggling away from Enzo, I ran, skidding to a stop where the man who called out crouched between two parked cars. Shoving him out of the way, my heart leapt when I saw Vinnie sprawled on the pavement, a bloody gash in his forehead, his clothes and skin covered in soot. Shoving the guy back, I knelt beside Vinnie, my fingers frantically feeling for a pulse, sobbing out a relieved breath when I found one. He was alive. Hurt, clearly, but alive, and that was all I needed in that moment. Cradling his head in my lap, I stroked my hand over his hair, murmuring apologies he probably couldn’t hear as Enzo stood over us, the relief on his face clear.
“Holy fuck, boss man,” came Rocco’s astonished words, but I didn’t spare him a glance. “What the fuck?”
“Rock,” Enzo said, the authority in his voice letting me know that he was handling this a whole hell of a lot better than I was. If I had room in my brain for anything but panic, I’d feel ashamed of my behavior. “This is gonna draw a whole fuckload of attention that we don’t need. Clear out the basement. Refund any bets and let people know we will be on hold until further notice.”
“You got it. Anything else?”
I could feel Enzo’s rage from here, and looking up, I could see his whole body shaking with the force of his anger.
“Yeah,” he snarled. “Tell everyone, this ends now. I want a full round-up. Any one they can find. Bratva, gangbangers, thugs, crackheads, the works. If anyone even looks like they could know someone who knows something about this, I wanna talk to them.”
I finally turned my head, blinking up at Enzo as he spoke, and the look of pure rage carved onto his beautiful face made my blood run cold.
I had never seen him so angry.
I loved him even more for it.
“Where are we holding this little get together?” Rocco asked.
Enzo paused, taking a breath before he answered. “Bring them to The Shed. It’s time I reminded the people in this town why they don’t fuck with Enzo Argenti.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Enzo
After the ambulance arrived, Francesca rode with Vinnie to the hospital. He’d regained consciousness by then, but he still needed to get checked out. I wanted to go with her, hating to have her out of my sight, but unfortunately for me, car bombs aren’t something the police tend to just sweep under a rug. I had to spend hours giving statements, answering questions, and trying like hell to keep my temper under control as one stuffed-up prick after another asked me if I knew of anyone who would want to hurt my wife.
