Enzo's smile fades. "Then you don't get the pages."
"We had a deal," I grumble, already taking a step backward. Riley is there, almost clinging to my backside like she's nervous.
"And now we have a new one. Take it or leave it."
There's no way Sal will ever make a deal like that. He'd rather dissolve the company and liquidate all assets surrounding it than punish me. Enzo is a fool. He's not going to get what he wants. He's going to escalate things until they can't be brought back from the brink. It's obvious he has nothing on us. If he did, he'd be full of threats and he wouldn’t need weapons.
And it's in that single thought that I understand what this is. They're not here to deal. They know we'll never compromise. They drew us out to ambush us.
But before I can even think, everything erupts.
Everything happens at once.
Feodor draws his gun.
Sal steps back.
Enzo's men open fire, and the air explodes with the crack of gunshots and the smell of cordite. I grab Riley and pull her down, shielding her body with mine as bullets ricochet off the pavement and the side of the SUV.
"Get to the car!" I shout to anyone who can hear us, and I pull my weapon and return fire behind myself as I shield Riley from the onslaught.
Feodor returns fire, and one of Enzo's men drops. Sal pulls a handgun from inside his coat and fires twice, hitting another man in the shoulder. The hangar erupts into chaos, and I drag Riley toward the SUV, keeping low, my body between her and the gunfire.
She stumbles and smacks the ground hard, and I use her momentum to pin her to the ground with my knee as I turn and lay more cover fire for Sal to get free. When Feodor is safely behind the SUV, he peppers the air with his own cover fire, allowing me to yank Riley off the ground to her feet.
"Move!" I yell.
We reach the SUV, and I shove her into the back seat where Feodor is already behind the wheel, the engine roaring to life.Sal climbs into the passenger seat, and I slide in beside Riley, slamming the door as another round of bullets peppers the side of the vehicle.
"Go!" Sal shouts.
Feodor slams the accelerator, and the SUV lurches forward. Tires screech against the pavement, and I hear the second vehicle following close behind. More gunfire erupts, and the rear window spiderwebs with cracks.
Riley's pressed against me, her face buried in my chest, as she gasps and sucks in breath. She's panicked, clinging to me with fists tight on my coat, and I wrap my arm around her and hold her steady as the SUV takes a sharp turn.
"Stay down," I say softly, though most of the danger is past now. As long as they don't give chase, we're out clean and no one is hurt that I know of.
She nods against my chest, and I feel how badly her hands are shaking as tears well up in her eyes.
Feodor weaves through the industrial district, taking side streets and back alleys to lose anyone following us. The gunfire fades, and after a few minutes, the road opens up onto the highway. The second vehicle is still behind us, and I see Feodor glance in the rearview mirror before easing off the accelerator.
"Are we clear?" Sal asks.
"Clear," Feodor says.
I exhale and look down at Riley. She's still pressed against me, her hands gripping the front of my jacket, and I can see the scrapes on her palms where she hit the pavement. Blood seepsthrough the torn skin, and her knuckles are already starting to bruise.
It feels like a knife to the chest to see her blood seeping through wounds. Instantly, I wish it were me, that I could reverse time and make it my blood being spilled, not hers, but I'm thankful that it's not worse. She could've been killed and I’m not sure how I'd have taken that.
I didn't push her out of harm's way because I want my ledgers restored. I did it because I wanted Riley safe. I care about what happens to her.
That idea settles in my chest as I drape an arm around her protectively and pull her against my body. What the fuck am I getting myself into?
We reach the house twenty minutes later, and Feodor pulls into the driveway. I help Riley out of Sal's SUV and guide her inside without even saying goodbye to my uncle. He's busy on the phone giving orders to retaliate against the Caruso family, and I don't need to stick around to find out what he'll do. I need to get Riley cleaned up.
She's limping slightly, favoring her left leg, and I realize she must have twisted her ankle when she fell. I lead her to the kitchen and pull out a chair.
"Sit down," I tell her gently, realizing she's probably in no mood for small talk. She's just seen the ugly side of my business that most normal people never see. She was shot at, and she came a hair's breadth away from death.
