Lorenzo slides over the hood of the SUV to get to me while the SUV with Santi and John pulls in front of us to offer us cover.
“Are you okay?” Lorenzo shoves my jacket off and rips my shirt, buttons popping off in his rush to check the wound.
“We have to move!” I grind the words out through clenched teeth, rage filling every inch of me. “And find that fucking shooter!”
I’m shoved back into the armored SUV while Lorenzo gives the guards orders. As I watch him run around the front of the vehicle, my heart rate speeds up when another bullet hits the corner of the windshield, missing him by mere inches.
When he jumps into the driver's seat, I snap, “Get us out of here!”
The tires spin as he floors the gas, and when we speed away from the warehouse, I glance out the window, searching for the sniper.
I see something glint on top of a warehouse, and pointing at it, I say, “The fucker is up on that roof.” I dial Santi’s number and tell him where to go with strict orders to bring the sniper in alive.
We remain on high alert as Lorenzo drives toward the hospital.
“Who do you think is behind the assassination attempt?”
I move my shirt out of the way and look at the groove that’s oozing blood. “Fuck knows, but the shooter has shitty aim.”
Just as Lorenzo brings the SUV to a screeching stop by the hospital, my phone begins to ring, showing Santi’s name.
“Give me good news.”
“We have the shooter, boss. He’s Japanese.”
A cruel smile tugs at my mouth. “Good work. Take him to the cellar at my dad’s place.”
I end the call and quickly dial Dad’s number.
“Hi, son,” he answers.
“Someone just tried to kill me. Santi and John are bringing him to you. Don’t let Mom find out.”
Worry tenses his voice as he asks, “Are you okay?”
“The bullet only grazed my chest, but I’m bleeding a lot. We’re at the hospital. I’ll swing by as soon as Dr. Milazzo has stitched me up.”
“Christ, Augusto! I’ll make the fucker comfortable while we wait for you.”
“Just don’t kill him.”
“I’ll do my best.”
As the call ends, I shake my head. “Let’s get this over with quickly before my dad has all the fun, and we’re left with a mangled body.”
Lorenzo chuckles as we get out of the SUV and hurry into the hospital.
“Santi said the shooter’s Japanese,” I tell my friend as Simone rushes toward us.
“What are we dealing with?” she asks.
“A bullet grazed the left side of his chest,” Lorenzo informs her.
“Come this way,” she instructs, her tone professional.
While we follow her to one of the rooms, she makes a call. “Dr. Milazzo, please come to room three. Mr. Vitale’s here.”
I catch a glimpse of Rocco’s wife and their baby sitting in another room and ask, “Why are they here?”
