Page 14 of The Rise of an Heiress

Without thinking twice, I aim and shoot the driver in the head as the door to the back seat opens. I turn to my right, kick the guy in the face as he reaches for me, and shoot him in the forehead, too.

The door behind me opens, and the third man grabs me by my hair, dragging me out. I let him pull me out of the car so that I could swing my elbow back into him then slam my head back into his. I had to act fast and get him down—if he learns I can actually defend myself, he’ll put his defenses up. That’s the one thing a lot of men do. They underestimate women, but I’m not mad. I’d use it to my advantage.

As I try getting away, something slams into my head. Next thing I know, strong arms are around me. Fuck. Now I see why Papa and Dom insisted Donna and I take on combat training. I need to make sure he doesn’t get the upper hand, or I’m screwed.

When I pretend to give up, he relaxes. Idiot. As he does, I use his arms to pull my legs up with all my core strength and wrap them around his head. I use his own momentum to flip him and slam him to the ground. He wasn’t expecting that. Good. I can practically see the birds chirping around his head as he’s taking in what happened. Before he can gain any composure, I shoot him right in between his eyes.

I scan the alley, pointing my gun out, looking around for more men.

“Only three?” I say to myself as I roll my eyes, of course.

They assumed I’d be an easy target. Papa made sure people knew little of my existence. No one knew I was an expert shooter and fighter. Not that I’ve had a real opponent until now. As annoyed as I am that they underestimated me, I am grateful because, with any more men, I would’ve been fucked.

Looking at the dead bodies in front of me, I examine my damage. The adrenaline has my hands shaking as I take photos of their license plates. My phone rings—Dom. I tap the answer button.

“Fucking shit, Nat. I’ve been worried out of my goddamn mind. What the fuck happened? I’m on my way to your location now.”

“Sorry,” I say, catching my breath. “I think I’m in shock. I didn’t hear my phone. I was leaving Ming’s and got into a taxi, and two other SUVs showed up, and they tried to—”

“FUCK!” he screams into the phone, causing me to pull it away. “What did they say? What did they want? Do they know who you are?”

“The hell, Dom. Do you think we just sat around in a circle trading each other’s secrets while painting each other’s fingernails? I didn’t ask questions. Shoot first, remember?” I rub the sore spot on my head.

Seriously, what did he hit me with?

“You killed them?” He sounds impressed. It never failed to amaze me at how quickly he could calm down.

“There were only three.” I sigh, scanning bodies again as if expecting they’d come back to life.

“I’m proud of you, but this isn’t good. Who were they?”

“First of all, are you coming to get me? Because I have no idea if there’s more of them lurking around, and I’d rather not be here when the cops show up. You don’t seem worried or in a hurry at all. Second, I’m sending you photos of their plates.”

He laughs. “I’ll be there in two minutes. I’ll have the clean-up crew come deal with them.”

“No,” I blurt. “I want whoever sent them to find the bodies.”

“Ice Queen,” he replies.

At the time, I didn’t realize how true his words really rang.

I take a deep breath. “I’ve never actually had to kill for real before, Dom.”

“Fuck, I know.” He sounds regretful. “I have your location pulled up. I’m a minute out. You’re lucky I came back early. Fuck. You’re lucky.”

The fog I was just in lifts as Dom pulls into the alley. He’s mad again. So much for calming down. He stares at the photos I’d sent him as I put on my seatbelt. He runs it through some software he had our hacker and his best friend, Franco, develop.

“Fucking hell.” He hits the steering wheeling.

“They found me, didn’t they?”

I didn’t even want to say the name. Having grown up with the mafia, I know Papa wanted to keep as much of this world away from me as possible. He told me only what I needed to know and made sure I could fight off any potential attackers, but that was it. Of course some things slipped through.

“Triad?” he asks, looking at me cautiously. He pauses before looking back at his phone. “Not sure I sent the images over to Franco.”

“They don’t look like they could be Triad, unless they were hired. Could be Russian or Italian, but I didn’t get a good look,” I say as I run my hands through my hair.

“Plates come up blank. If it’s not them, the only other people it could be is the Cosa Nostra. It’s possible they know you’re in New York.”

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