In my head, we flipped over and over, my mother screaming my name. A violent headache claimed me as I tried to push the past back where it belonged. Surely, there was something I could be doing to help myself, and maybe it would take my mind off the memories.
Scooting to the set of double doors at the back, I looked at the handle to see if there was some way for me to twist around and open it. I’d gladly roll out onto the pavement if it meant getting the fuck away from those two deranged assholes.
Glancing up front, I made sure the men were preoccupied before turning my back to the doors. My angle was off by about five city blocks, and I grunted in frustration. I needed to move up onto my knees, so I shifted my bound feet until I could lever myself up. I nearly faceplanted, but managed to end up in a deep prayer position while the van turned another sharp corner.
More gunfire made me whimper, but I locked down my muscles and sat up, moving closer to the door. Just as I felt the handle under my fingertips, we came to an abrupt stop, sending me forward again until my nose touched my knees.
Was I really destined to be stuck here with these loonies until one of them won the war?
“Why the fuck won’t they get lost?” the driver grumbled, checking his mirrors before gunning the engine backward.
We slammed into something, and my teeth tried to clatter together, but all I bit was the cloth in my mouth. Still, my head rattled with the force of it, and the two up front were merely laughing.
“Now they’re fucked.”
My escape route had just banged into the front end of the rescue vehicle. Wild laughter erupted from my chest, bubblingup my throat until I feared I’d had a mental break. Nothing could ever be easy for me, could it?
Since I was already on the floor, I rolled over to my back and stretched out. Never mind escaping; I was destined to be a damsel in distress, apparently. That was what it took to be involved with the mafia, but I wasn't sure it was worth it.
I heard the racking of a shotgun and realized the men had exited the van. They were changing their tactics to one-on-one combat, and I could easily become collateral damage if I didn’t get out.
Trying the door again, I realized it was jammed. There weren't any windows in the back, so I couldn't even tell what was happening outside. Since the men weren't in their seats, I shuffled forward until I could see out the windshield. Water lapped against the docks in front of me, warehouses lining the wharf as far as I could see.
The boom of a shotgun made me jump and scream.Son of a bitch. The console between the seats proved to be an obstacle, and I felt it dig into my stomach as I shimmied over it. All the air left my lungs as I felt the bruises forming over my scars, but I forced myself to keep moving. Unsure which door would be safest, I craned my neck to check for the bad guys.
If only my hands weren’t tied behind my back. If only my feet weren't bound together like a pig being brought to the slaughter.
Instead of dwelling on all the negatives, I tried to think. I was smart; surely I could figure something out. Gunshots rang out, and I heard the distinct difference of the return fire coming from farther away. Deciding the passenger side was as good an escape route as any, I fought my way forward, twisting into a pretzel when I lost my balance and landed in the seat.
“Fuck.”
I had to turn around to get my hands on the door handle. Sucking in a breath, I squeezed my muscles tightly and made themove. Feeling the handle behind me, I pulled on it and tried not to fall backward.
But there, on the ground just outside the van, was a crumpled body. It wasn't moving; I didn't see any signs of air moving through the chest. With my head pounding and nausea still overwhelming me, I shoved myself out the door and fell on top of the man.
There was no groan, no move to shove me off of him. Neither was there silence, because the living men were doing their utter best to kill each other.
Staying low, I rolled off the corpse and just stayed put for a second. Looking around me, I saw that men lined the rooftops with their own high-powered weapons. That must have been what happened to the guy from the van. Were they Costa men, or were they with Matteo?
Logic told me they shot him because they were loyal to Benito. Fear told me not to trust anyone, to keep close to the van and out of sight. Maybe I could even crawl under it to hide fully.
“Sailor?” I heard someone call.
I didn't see anyone, and it wasn’t a voice I recognized. Keeping my mouth shut, I edged closer to the vehicle. Matteo had consistently called me Sara, so maybe it wasn't someone coming to do me harm.
Regardless, I belly crawled beneath the van, hoping the gunshots would stop soon. Tears rolled down my cheeks, but I couldn't wipe them away. Curling into a ball, I tried to remain small and hidden. Closing my eyes, I pictured Noah’s face the first time he told me he loved me. Bullets pinged off the metal body of the van, some of them too close for comfort. Squeezing my eyelids tighter, I went back to my peaceful visualization.
Unfortunately, it was overtaken by the fury and pain on his face when he discovered I’d deceived him. Try as I might, I couldn't bring back the serene beauty of his handsomeness whenhe was happy with me. Over and over, he told me to get the fuck out, and I knew that meant from his life as well as from his room.
“Sailor!”
Oddly, Noah didn't sound as angry anymore. Opening my eyes, I squinted into the smoky atmosphere. There were a pair of legs a few feet away, turning in all directions. That was about the time I realized the only thing I heard was ringing silence.
“Noah?” I whispered, then cleared my throat. “Noah!” I said more loudly, hoping he could hear my garbled voice around the gag.
His face appeared in front of me when he crouched beside the van. “Oh, thank God!”
I struggled to get out from under my hiding spot, but then, as soon as I was partially clear, he picked me right up. Burying my face in his tuxedo jacket, I tried not to worry that he smelled wrong. The acrid scent of propellant filled the air, coating both of us. There were plenty of other voices, all of them shouting, but I kept my eyes closed until we stopped moving.
