62. JOEY
JOEY
I couldn’t sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I was back outside The Wise Guy. Adriana’s lips on mine, her whispered words— I just want to go home and make love to my husband . The warmth of her breath still lingered in my mind, taunting me. It had been a perfect moment. And then?—
The flash of headlights. The squeal of tires. The glint of metal.
I woke with my breath ragged, my pulse pounding against my skull. My body ached, a sharp pain digging into my side where the bullet had torn through me. I sat up slowly, wincing, rubbing a hand down my face. I couldn’t stop replaying it. Over and over, like a broken record. I could see the gun, but I couldn’t see the face behind it. That was the part that was eating me alive. Someone had tried to kill me. Someone who knew exactly where I’d be.
I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, pushing myself to my feet, biting back the groan of pain as I limped toward the window. The estate was quiet. I clenched my jaw, my hands curling into fists. I’d spent my whole life surviving, clawing my way out of the gutter, making damn sure no one ever got the best of me. And yet, someone had. Someone had gotten close enough to put a bullet through me.
I couldn’t let it go. Not until I knew who. Not until I put them in the ground.
I pressed a hand to my side, the bandages rough against my fingertips. The pain barely registered. The rage burned hotter. I’d find them. And when I did, I’d make damn sure they regretted not finishing the job. Because anyone with any sense would know you’ve got one shot, so you always make it count.