Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
M y hand reaches into my bag, my fingers wrapping around my pistol. I don’t need to hear them to recognize the three men that are waiting by Tommy’s car in the parking lot of the diner.
“Ah, Tommy, I left my phone on the table. Could you run back in and get it for me?” I ask. I need to get him away from here. These guys are after me, not him, and I can’t even fathom the thought of Tommy being hurt.
“Yeah, okay.” He laughs dryly. “Who are they?” He nods his head towards his car.
“Ukrainians,” I hiss. “I’ll take care of it.”
“Like fuck, you will.” Tommy steps in front of me.
“We just want the girl. Give her to us and there won’t be any trouble,” one of the men says in a deep Ukrainian accent.
“Yeah, that’s not happening. If you have any brain cells in that thick head of yours, you’d leave and never look in her direction again.” Tommy’s voice is hard, firm. A tone I’ve never heard from him before.
When the guy lunges forward, I lift my hand. The bullet goes right through my bag and into the middle of his head. I’m quick to fire another one at the second guy’s chest. The third, I hit in the kneecap. “Tell whoever you are working for that if you want to get me, you better bring everything you got.”
Sirens blare in the distance. I turn to Tommy. “Mabilia, give me the gun,” he says.
“Why?” I’m numb as I pull the little 9mm from my bag and hand it to Tommy.
I watch as he wipes it down with his shirt and then wraps his own hand around the grip. He presses his finger on the trigger and aims at the guy I left groaning on the ground.
“What the hell, Tommy?” I scream at the same time another gunshot sounds off. The guy isn’t moving anymore.
Tommy doesn’t respond as he pulls his keys out of his pocket and hands them to me. “Give me your phone. Quick,” he urges.
I do as he says. Tommy holds the screen to my face to unlock it and then scrolls through my contacts.
“It’s Tommy. Some Ukrainian guys just tried to grab Mabilia. She’s on her way home now in my car. Make sure she gets there,” he says before hanging up and handing my phone back to me. “Take my car, drive home, and do not stop until you get there.”
“What? No. I’m not leaving you here!” I yell. The sirens are getting closer.
“Go. Now!” Tommy yells back. “You need to get out of here, Mabilia.”
“Too fucking bad. I’m not leaving,” I tell him.
Two cop cars screech into the parking lot before four cops get out, their weapons all aimed in Tommy’s direction. He drops my gun to the ground and holds up his hands. He then lowers himself to his knees and surrenders.
What the fuck is he doing? “Tommy, get up!” I hiss at him.
“Go home, Mabilia,” he says.
Two officers land on top of him, shoving his face against the asphalt. “It was self-defense. They tried to attack my girlfriend,” Tommy says. “I had no choice but to shoot them.”
“Shut the fuck up!” I hiss again before turning back to the cops. “He doesn’t know what he’s talking about, officers. My father will be here and he’ll sort this all out.”
“Your father?” One of the unis raises a brow at me as he snaps the metal cuffs around Tommy’s wrists.
“Mikhail Petrov,” I say proudly. Since the other morning, I haven’t spoken to my father much. I’ve been angry at him. But right now, I need him and I know he’ll be the first one here when I call.
I press dial, noticing he’s the last number on my call log. Tommy called him. “Papa, they’re arresting Tommy,” I say when the line connects.
“I’m on my way to you now. Don’t say a fucking word, Mabilia. Tell Tommy not to say a word to those filthy pigs,” Papa instructs me in Russian.
“He already confessed,” I tell him.
“Why?”
I can’t say over the phone. It’s been drilled into me my whole life. Never say shit over the phone line. You never know who’s listening. “I need to call Zio Matteo,” I say. “Hurry.”
I hang up and dial my uncle. “Mabilia?” he answers.
“I need help,” I tell him.
“What do you need?” My uncle is on high alert now. I can hear it in his voice.
“They’re arresting my boyfriend. I need you to help him. He didn’t do it,” I try to explain.
“Don’t say another word. Where are they taking him? What precinct?” Zio Matteo asks.
“What precinct are you taking him to?” I yell out to one of the officers and notice they’ve just shoved Tommy in the back of a cop car.
I can’t believe this is happening. Why would he do this?
“Never mind. I’ve got it. I’ll meet him there. Mabilia, go home,” Zio Matteo says.
“I can’t just leave him.” I watch the car with Tommy in it drive out of the parking lot. A shit-ton of other cop cars and ambulances have arrived. And then I see my father’s caravan of SUVs.
He steps out of the back of one of them and walks towards me with determined steps. His eyes rake over my body, checking for injuries. “Are you hurt?” he asks.
I shake my head. “No.”
My father looks at the three bodies that are currently being covered with plastic sheets. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”
“She’s going to have to come down to the station for questioning,” an officer says.
“Excuse me?” My father looks at the man. “My daughter will not be answering any of your fucking questions,” he sneers as he takes my hand and walks me right past the police tape they are putting up. No one tries to stop him.
“Papa, Tommy’s car.” I tug on his hand.
“You got the keys?” Papa asks, and I hand them to him.
“He wanted me to leave before the cops got here,” I whisper.
“You should have listened to him,” Papa says, opening the back of his SUV and ushering me inside. He hands the keys to one of the vory and instructs him to drive Tommy’s Ferrari back to the estate.
“I need to get him out of there. I did this, Papa, not Tommy,” I tell my father as soon as we are closed inside the car.