“Yes, boss.”
“You have visual confirmation.”
“Yes, boss.” There’s an audible click as the car door opens. “Just getting it now, boss.”
I hang up and wait for the confirmation. I wait. I wait some more. The minutes fly by. Each ticking second frays my last nerve. I’m furious. I attempt to call, but nothing. I text. No reply. The longer I wait, the more furious I become; their only job was to send the confirmation of death. Just one fucking picture of my fiancée’s twisted, dead body. Is it too much to fucking ask? I pace, gripping my phone so tight I almost crack the screen.
I finally get through to the brothers. The phone answers, but they don’t pick up. I can hear them laughing and joking in the distance. Muffled sounds through fabric clearly indicating the phone is still stuffed in their pocket. The telltale signs of clinking and laughter fill the air, and I’m livid. They’re at the fucking bar. Are they kidding me? I finally grab some clothes after pacing my room naked for God knows how long.
I toss them on, and I head out to my car. I know exactly where they are. This will be their last act of incompetence. I storm down the steps, out of the house and to my car. I peel out. I swear to God, I will kill them myself.
Arianna
Chapter Eleven
I wind through the back streets. I keep watch as I assume I may be followed. I turn through alleys and down quieter streets to keep as hidden as possible, to be less conspicuous as I try to make my way home. I turn the corner. There’s a squeal of tyres behind me. When I glance over my shoulder, I see I’m being followed. The blacked-out sports car sticks close, and though I can make out two bodies in the vehicle, I can’t see who they are. I know it’s not Bellino from a lack of sheer body mass, but I’m unable to identify them.
I make a few random turns, and they’re definitely tailing me. I weave in and out of traffic, trying to evade them, but everywhere is busy. Rush hour is hard even for me on my bike to cut through.
I speed off, turning back on myself and weaving through the streets. I need to get to the highway, then I can speed off and lose them. The traffic will be quieter on there. I can use the speed of the bike to leave them. I cut through a car park, pulling out the other side, and they nearly sideswipe me. I whip around a lorry and slam my brakes on as they sail past, then jump lanes as I pull outonto the highway; it’s quieter. Everyone is still trying to commute. I rip back the throttle, hoping to put some distance between us.
I glance quickly over my shoulder, and I see there’s no one behind me. I must have lost them. I blow out a flustered breath and ease off the accelerator slightly. I sit back in my seat, breathing and letting the severity of the situation wash over me.
As I go past the next junction, I catch a glimpse out of the corner of my eye. The sports car it's back. They speed up as they enter the highway. I’m not quick enough to evade them as they pull out they accelerate until they clip my back wheel, throwing me into a tank slapper as I try to wrestle with the bike, to force it back under control, they clip me again, the back wheel buckles from the impact the wheel snatches and I high side, the bike tumbles and rolls over, side over side as it somersaults across the lanes.
I fly through the air, then close my eyes and relax. This is gonna hurt, but if I brace for impact, if I tense, I will break something.
I let my body go limp as I fly through the air. I breathe as the ground rushes up to hit me. I crumple as I smash into the ground. The air flies from my lungs. I flip arse over tit until I lose momentum. My body crumples into a heap before I unfold and flop back against the ground. I take a shaky breath, but I don’t move.
I hear the squeal of tyres as they slam on the brakes. I’m dazed, but not enough that I don’t understand I have to stay still right now. They need to think they’ve killed me at least, and although I don’t think anything is broken, I’m not sure until I try to move. I hear the door clunk open and then shut, and footsteps heading towards me, more thanone from the difference in the sound of the footsteps, but then there’s a screech followed by gunfire. Three shots ring out as the footsteps take off back towards the car. They squeal away as heavy footsteps run towards me.
“Ari.” Vittorio’s voice is panicked as he sprints in my direction. I sit up and start unbuckling my helmet.
“Ari, no!” he yells as he skids to a halt in front of me. He grabs my hands, taking them off the straps. “Leave it on until I get you to the hospital.”
I bat his hands away. “I’m fine,” I protest. “Not my first time binning it on my bike. Just back up and give me a second, yeah.” I rip the helmet off my head and throw it on the grass verge at the side of me before I flop back down and take a deep breath.
“Did you see who it was?” I rasp out.
“Yeah.” His hand reaches down and strokes my hair back off my face. “It was the Costa brothers.”
“Give me a minute, then I’m gonna go and kill those motherfuckers.”
He chuckles. “Can it wait?”
“Nope, I need to strike while the iron’s hot and they think I’m a goner. Right, give me a hand up.” I stick my hand out and wince as he pulls me to my feet. I growl at the pain, thank whoever I owe my life to, that I didn’t have my gun stuffed down my trousers, asfuck, that would have hurt. I wobble a little as I stand, get my bearings and then snatch up my helmet, look it over, see it’s grazed to fuck and throw it at the bike, screaming out. I glare at the leathers, and the side and back are scuffed up really badly. I clench my fists. “They’re gonna fucking pay for this.” I reach down and check that the knife in my boot is still there.
“Do you know where they’ll be?” Vittorio, standing in his jeans and white t-shirt, looking like some kind of catwalk model. He crosses his arms over his chest, his bulging biceps decorated with the most exquisitely elaborate designs that peek out of his collar and down his arms onto his hands. I immediately think of him naked last night, and I know I don’t have a concussion or brain damage because I’m so fucking wet right now. I crack my neck and sigh in relief when my head doesn’t roll off.
I storm towards his car and leave him cursing on the side of the highway. He catches me up in a few strides, and I slide into the passenger side, wincing as I drop into the seat. “Do you have a spare gun?” He nods to the glove box. I lean forward, wincing, and I snatch it out, checking it’s loaded as he screams off up the highway.
“Daltons,” he grumbles out. It’s the name of the dodgy bar on the outskirts of the city, the only place I can think of that they’d go from here. When I started to step into my father’s shoes, I made sure I got to know the key players and their sons. I know we’ve known each other our whole lives, but I’ve always been kept aside from the others. The boys socialised together, and their childhoods were more intertwined. I was shielded, protected, and kept sheltered. I grew up on the outside of the families, so I had to learn who and what I’m up against.
We pull into Daltons and see their car. “You guard the back door. I’m going in the front.”
“Ari, don’t you think we should stay together?”
I scowl at him.
