It’s a big black truck. The back windows start to roll down, and I don’t know why I do it. I don’t know how I even realize what’s about to happen. But I see the gun barrels and I grab Gem, pulling her against me, and I dive to the sidewalk, rollingtoward the curb, and end up pinned against the side of Stellan’s expensive car.
Automatic gunfire explodes around us. Windows splinter. Bullets thunk into metal paneling like hammers. It’s so loud and there’s so much chaos. Nearby pedestrians are running, and someone’s screaming, and I don’t even realize that’s me until there’s another slam and the guns stop shooting.
My ears are ringing. I wait, hugging Gem tight, until it’s clear the attack is over. When I pull away, Gem’s sobbing but unhurt, and I look up over the car’s hood.
Prime’s in the street. He’s in a silver BMW, the front all smashed up. The black truck is speeding off, its bumper dragging on the ground and shooting up sparks. Prime leaps out of his car and runs to me, saying something, but I can’t hear him.
“What!?” I yell back, gesturing at my ears. “What did you say!?”
He leans in, cupping his hands. “GET IN THAT CAR AND DRIVE HOME. I’LL COVER YOU. GET GOING!”
I nod as he runs off, leaps back into his car, and speeds after the truck.
It’s a miracle I can move. Gem seems frozen. I guide her into the car, only belatedly realizing that the windows are all bulletproof and the side must be too, because the interior is totally fine. The engine starts right up, and I pull out smoothly, hands shaking, nauseous and buzzing with adrenaline.
Stellan’s waiting for us back home. He sprints into the street and doesn’t give me time to park the car. He practically drags me out, pulling me into his arms and hugging me tight. “Prime toldme what happened. I have a dozen men swarming the area. I’m going to find them.”
I shove myself tightly against Stellan, craving his comfort, but I don’t let myself linger. I bring Gem inside and take her into her bedroom.
“Why did people try to kill us?” she asks, pale and shaking like a leaf. She’s never looked so much like a high school girl before, not for a while anyway. “What happened? Why aren’t we calling the police?”
“It’s probably time I told you everything about your brother-in-law.” I glance at the door to Gem’s room. Stellan’s waiting there. He gives me the slightest nod of approval. “How much do you know about the mafia?”
KIRA
Gem was right. She usually is. Stellan taps his champagne glass against mine as I lounge in the seat next to his. The private plane is luxurious, beyond anything I’ve ever seen before, with its own little crew and a fully stocked kitchen.
“We’re only flying to Florida,” I say, marveling at the cashmere blankets and suite of entertainment options. As soon as my glass is empty, the flight attendant offers to top it up. I decline since this isn’t exactly that kind of trip. “This is sort of overkill, right?”
“This is sort of how we live now.”
I give him a sly smile. “Private planes and drive-by shootings. What a life.”
He grimaces and throws back his drink. He doesn’t turn it down when his refill arrives. “Prime and some of my men caught them. You don’t have to worry about them coming back.”
“Who were they? The Turks? And why would they want to hurt me?”
“I can’t say exactly what they wanted. Unfortunately, when I paid the survivors a visit, I wasn’t on my best behavior.”
I flinch slightly, but the idea of Stellan brutally murdering some men doesn’t bother me so much anymore. Not after what I saw at his ascension, and not after what we did in the graveyard.
“They’re getting closer, aren’t they?”
“Once we have the key and the book’s in my possession, the Turks won’t matter anymore.”
He sounds so sure of himself. I hope he’s right.
The flight’s uneventful. I can’t remember the last time I took a plane anywhere, but this is by far the best trip I’ve ever been on. We reach Jacksonville International Airport, and there’s already a big black SUV waiting. The driver’s a thickset man with a heavy Italian accent, and he clearly works for Stellan in some capacity.
“How far does your family reach?” I ask him once we’re on the road heading toward my mother’s address. She hit me up for money over a year back, which is how I know where to find her, and Stellan’s people confirmed that she’s still there.
“Far as we want it to. This man isn’t a part of my organization, but he does work for us.”
“Mercenary?”
“Of a sort.”
I watch the landscape roll past. The road cuts through thick stretches of pine and scrubby oak. It’s mostly flat wetland. Long-limbed birds fish in the marshes, and I think I spot a couple of alligators sunning themselves on rocks. We reach a small town called Palatka after about an hour, a place that looks like it wasbeautiful once but now is mostly falling apart. The driver heads to the outskirts and slowly rolls into a modest trailer park.
