“What the fuck is going on?” Massimo yells as I try to push him off me. We’re in an armored vehicle, and while the bodywork and glass won’t withstand repeated gunfire, there is no need to turn all Rambo and act like I’m some helpless woman who doesn’t know her way around a gun.
“Jesus fucking Christ!” Fiero’s eyes widen as he stares out the back window. “They’re using bazookas.”
Massimo lets loose a string of expletives as he climbs off me, offering me his hand. Our eyes lock in shared acknowledgment. “We need to get the fuck off this highway, or we’re minced meat,” I say, echoing what we all know.
ChapterThirty-Six
Massimo
“Head for the next exit,” I instruct Ezio as he zigzags across the road, weaving in and out of traffic, attempting to lose the black SUV chasing us. My SUV, along with my men inside, is toast, the car overturned and burning behind us in the distance. Rage consumes me as I watch the assholes leaning out of the car windows behind us, aiming fire at our vehicle.
“Let’s give these motherfuckers a taste of their own medicine,” Catarina says, flipping up the back seat to reveal an arsenal of weaponry.
Fiero whistles under his breath. “That’s some collection you’ve got there. I’m guessing you know how to use them?”
“Don’t ask stupid questions.” Catarina quickly hands rifles to me and Fiero as a barrage of gunfire hits the back of the car, sending bullets ricocheting in all directions. Alongside us, other cars slam on the brakes while some spin out of control crashing into others.
“It won’t be long before the cops show up,” I warn as she punches a button on the roof of the ceiling and a pane of glass lowers.
“Put the pedal to the metal, Ezio,” she shouts. “The Russians won’t give a shit about innocent casualties, but I do. We need to get off this highway.”
“What makes you so sure it’s the Russians and not Saverio?” Fiero asks, readying his rifle.
“You heard Renzo. Salerno is in the air. This is Anton’s doing. He’s trying to take us out before we go to The Commission and bring the full weight of themafiosodown on top of them.”
Fiero trades a look with me, and I know what he’s thinking. I don’t care what Renzo did in the past—though I am grateful he cared for her when no one else did—it means jack shit to who he is now. We’ve had a guy following him, and he’s definitely up to something shady. I need proof before I present it to my wife because I know she won’t believe it unless I have something concrete to show her.
Neither of us challenges her because this isn’t the time. Escaping these assholes with our lives is the only goal right now.
Rina pushes the seat back down and kneels on it, positioning her rifle in one of the three holes in the glass that has secured into place. It’s like an inner back window, fully sealed on all sides. “This is armored glass,” Catarina explains, punching a second button on the ceiling. “It won’t withstand a bazooka, but if we can keep them at bay until we get off the highway, we can pull over and retrieve the rocket launcher I have in a secret panel under the car.” She glances at me as I climb onto the seat beside her. “You can have at them then, my love.”
Dark intent shimmers in her eyes, and I fucking love this woman so much.
Instinctively, I know what she has to tell me about her childhood is going to destroy me, but I already know it won’t change how I feel about her. Unless someone was to physically rip my heart from my chest, it will continue to beat for her. Nothing she says can change it, no matter how her truths might hurt both of us, and I sense they will.
Fiero and I get into position, placing our rifles in the holes as the back window lowers. The SUV chasing us comes into range, and we engage our weapons, in perfect sync, firing shots over the cars between us and them, aiming for the Russians’ vehicle. Gunfire is exchanged back and forth, the shots bouncing off both armored cars.
“Fuck.” Fiero curses under his breath as a guy with a bazooka propped on his shoulder leans out of the window.
“Get us off this fucking highway now!” I roar at Ezio, and the car swings a violent left, narrowly avoiding hitting a car on the inside lane. Up ahead, a semi-truck explodes the instant the projectile meant for us hits it, raining canned goods and debris on the road. It’s chaos in front of and behind us as cars pile up, and screaming people leave their vehicles running back down the highway in sheer terror.
Don Mazzone will freak the fuck out when the news breaks and he discovers we are at the center of it. Though he can’t get too mad because he was involved in his fair share of public shootouts when he first took the helm. He has worked hard to keep bloodshed off the streets of New York since, so this won’t be appreciated. It’s not something I need to worry about now though. I force the thought from my mind and concentrate on the here and now.
Ezio heads up the exit ramp at speed, and the carnage on the highway has bought us a little time as the Russians are stuck behind a line of stationary cars. It won’t take them long to plow their way through, but we have a few minutes to prepare.
Ezio exits the highway onto a long wide road, speeding toward the next town. We keep our rifles trained behind us and our eyes peeled as Rina instructs Ezio to pull into the shoulder up ahead.
When the car stops, we climb out of the back seat as Ricardo climbs out of the front. “Watch from the rear,” she says, eyeballing Ricardo and Fiero. “Ezio can watch from the front in case any other surprises come our way.” Rina lowers to the ground on her knees before twisting around and sliding underneath the car. I quickly follow, and together we remove the rocket launcher from its case and slide back out.
I’m setting the weapon up, positioning it in the direction of where the Bratva will come from, while Rina talks to Dario and Renzo on FaceTime, filling them in on what’s happened. Fiero and Ricardo watch from outside the SUV, at the rear, while Ezio surveys the road ahead from behind the wheel.
“Run!” Fiero yells just as I’m getting into position.
Looking through the scope, I spot the projectile coming our way and curse loudly. “Get away from the car!” I hop up with the launcher on my shoulder, my sore arm protesting the weight. Grabbing my wife’s hand, I force her to run with me. Fiero and Ricardo race down the road, pumping their legs as fast as they can go.
Rina struggles, attempting to wrench her hand from mine. The weapon is heavy on my shoulder, but there is no way I’m dropping it or letting go of my wife. “Ezio!” she screams, casting a glance over her shoulder. “We have to go back for him! Please, Massimo.” Pain underscores her words, and I get it. He was inside the car and may not get out in time. But there is nothing we can do about it. Not without risking death.
I don’t get a chance to reply to my wife before the explosion hits, destroying our SUV and rocking the road, sending us all tumbling to the ground. I roll over onto my back, ignoring the pain tearing across my injured arm as I position the rocket launcher on my chest and tuck my wife into my side. I protect her as best I can as fragments from our SUV fall around us.
