Lorenzo leaned closer. “Still don’t feel like talking?”
I met his gaze, the hum of the engine deepening as we left the coast and climbed toward city. I was sure a solid minute passed between us before I asked, “Did you know?” At his frown, I added, “about Father?”
He studied me for a moment. “What about him?”
Just spit it out, Remo.“That we–”
“Keep up, Diego,” Dario cut in, his tone sharp, his eyes on the rear screen, referring to the soldier driving the other vehicle.
I looked out the rear window. Diego was keeping it tight. “You expecting trouble, Dario?” I turned my head to face forward.
His gaze shifted between me and my brother. “Something doesn’t feel right.”
“Kyra’s sixth sense rubbing off on you?” I mocked, earning a scowl before he glanced out Joey’s window.
“Boss,” he said.
“I see it, Dario,” Lorenzo replied.
I followed their gazes, noticing three SUVs parked on the side of the road, doors shut, windows tinted, lights on.
“Keep going,” Lorenzo instructed quietly, his weapon already in his hand. I lifted my gaze, looking out his window. Two white vehicles raced down a side road, heading straight for us.
“That lying cunt.”
Joey stepped on the gas and the engine answered with a low, angry growl as the vehicle lurched forward, blurring the streetlights into streaks. Something hot curled in my gut, the familiar thrill that came with a hunt, except this time we were the deer caught in the headlights of the chasing vehicles.
“Cunts think they have us cornered.” I reached for my weapon under my jacket.
I was a second too late. The first bullet hit the hood, metal skimming metal, the second shattered my window forcing me into Lorenzo.
Then all hell broke loose. Gunfire exploded around us. We returned fire but there were too many. Dario opened fire on the white vehicles. One slewed into bushes but another two took its place.
“Drive!” Dario bellowed at Joey, his trigger finger relentless. “We need to get the fuck off this open road. Now!”
The old buildings of Porto Nerosa rose around us suddenly. “Left!” I yelled.
Joey swerved into a narrow cobblestone street, tires squealing. Balconies, shutters, laundry fluttering in the wind, they whizzed past. The next few seconds happened in a blur of spinning tires, grinding steel and jerking bodies.
The car slammed sideways, metal screaming against stone until we hit a dead stop against a stack of wooden crates. Dust choked the air, thick with the scent of burnt rubber and cordite.
“Out! Now!” Dario kicked the door open.
We spilled into the alley, guns blazing. Shadows moved on the rooftops. Bullets chipped the brickwork around us, sparking like deadly fireworks.
“Split up!” Lorenzo shoved me toward the warehouse entrance, his eyes wild. “I’ll draw them off.”
He didn’t wait for an argument, running left into the shadows. I wanted to follow, but two men dropped from a fire escape. My hand flicked and I put them down, quick and brutal. By the time I cleared the corner, Lorenzo was gone.
Silence swallowed the alley. The gunfire had stopped, replaced by a heavy, suffocating stillness that screamed ambush. I hated the quiet.
“Renz?” I shouted.
“Those fuckers are in alley behind us, get them,” he yelled, his strained voice pecking at my anxiety.
My heart thumping against my ribcage, I raced through the clutter of wood and steel before I heard him groan in pain. “Renz?” I called out but all I got in response was a mind-numbing hum that had me gripped in a tight-laced fear. As I reached the back of the building, my steps froze for just a second,my eyes falling on my brother’s still figure, his hands pressed against his white shirt, now tainted a dizzying red.
“Remo,” he croaked through clenched teeth, his expression tight with pain, breaking into my trance-like state. He tried to take a step toward me and his knee folded. I caught him before he hit the ground, his weight slumping into my chest.
