"And he wants to take me to dinner next week."
We all squealed. Even cool, composed Imani couldn't hide her smile.
The rest of lunch was filled with laughter and wine and the easy conversation of women who'd known each other forever. By the time we finished dessert, my cheeks hurt from smiling.
"We should do this more often," Lisa said as we gathered our things. "I forgot how much I missed this."
"Monthly brunches, weekly dinners," Karla declared. "Or as often as we can manage. I'm not losing you guys again."
"Agreed," Charmaine said, and we all nodded.
We walked out together, still laughing, into the bright afternoon sunshine. I was into the moment with them that I never saw trouble coming. The black cruiser that came screaming around the corner, windows down, the glint of metal before shots fired.
"DOWN!" Matvey's voice, urgent and commanding.
Something slammed into me from the side—Matvey, tackling all of us to the ground as gunfire erupted. The sound was deafening. Glass shattering. People screaming. The acrid smell of gunpowder. I hit the concrete hard, my head smacking against the pavement with a sickening sound. Pain exploded through my skull. Someone was screaming. Maybe me. Maybe one of the others.
More gunshots. Closer now. Or farther? I couldn't tell. Everything was spinning.
"Angelina!" Charmaine's voice, panicked. "Angelina, stay with me!"
I tried to respond but my mouth wouldn't work. My vision was going dark at the edges.
"She's bleeding?—"
"Call 911!"
"Karla's hit, she's hit?—"
"Put pressure on it!"
Voices overlapping, chaos, and through it all, a high-pitched ringing in my ears that wouldn't stop. I tried to stay conscious.Tried to focus on Matvey's face above me, his mouth moving but I couldn't hear the words. Tried to stay present. But the darkness was pulling me under, warm and inviting.
The last thing I heard was sirens and I felt someone's hands holding mine.
And then—nothing.
Dez
Iwas in a meeting with my father and two associates when my phone rang. I almost ignored it. We were in the middle of planning Vincent's permanent removal and I couldn't afford distractions. But it was Matvey's number. He was supposed to be watching Angelina at lunch.
I answered immediately. "What happened?"
"Drive-by shooting. Salvatore's in Capitol Hill." His voice was tight. "Your wife is down. Hit her head hard when I tackled them. She's unconscious. Ambulance is on the way."
The room tilted.
"How bad?"
"I don't know. Head wounds bleed a lot. She's breathing but not responsive. One of her friends took a bullet to the shoulder. Through and through, she'll be fine. But Angelina—" He paused. "You need to get here. Now."
I was already moving, my father and associates following without question.
"Which hospital?"
"Swedish First Hill. They're the closest Level 1 trauma center."
"I'm ten minutes out. Don't let her out of your sight."
