CHAPTER ELEVEN
SIENNA
When I walked back in, my eyes went straight to Eve. She was still standing in front of our enemies, both guns up. I hadn’t seen a rope or anything we could tie them up with. But that was fine, since we wouldn’t be here that long.
“We good?” she asked, rotating her shoulder with a wince that told me she was hurting more than she let on.
“Yeah,” I replied, studying her face. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I just got rammed from behind but not in the good way,” she joked, the corner of her mouth lifting in a half-smile.
I couldn’t help but chuckle, my gaze drifting to our prey. The driver was hunched forward, hand pressed to his shoulder as blood continued to seep through his fingers, staining his shirt a dark crimson.
The other one, the runner who’d tried to escape, had his hand clamped on his wounded leg, jaw tight, eyes darting between Eve and me like a cornered animal looking for an escape route. I strode over to stand beside Eve.
“Which one do you think we’ll have to kill before we get the other to talk?” I asked, my tone casual, as if we were discussing dinner options.
“Hmmm...” Eve hummed, tilting her head. “I’m betting it’s the driver who has to be killed for the runner to talk.”
“I’ve got a feeling the runner will have to die first,” I disagreed.
I noted the defiance in Mr. Hoodie’s eyes, the way his chin jutted out slightly.
“If I win, you have to let me use your stove to practice making a lemon cake,” Eve told me. “Annnd….” she added. “You have to taste test whatever I cook for the next month.”
Well, damn. I needed to think of something just as cruel. Got it!
“Deal,” I smirked. “But, if I win, you have to tell Stefano and Enzo that ditching our security detail was your idea.”
Her expression fell.
“Ugh! Why didn’t I think of that?” she whined.
I smiled, facing our captives again, who were staring at us like we’d lost our minds. I guess us having a little betting game about which one of them would have to die while they sat there bleeding out probably made us seem insane.
Good. Let them believe we were crazy. That would make them fear us more. Fear was a powerful motivator. Clearing my throat, I got down to business.
“Who sent you?” I asked.
My question was greeted with silence. They looked at each other, then back at me. Neither spoke. I didn’t repeat myself. I simply lifted my gun and pulled the trigger. The shot echoed through the room, loud as hell in the enclosed space.
The bullet struck the driver in his other shoulder, ripping through flesh and muscle. His body jerked, a pained cry tearing from his throat as fresh blood soaked through his shirt. He doubled over in the chair, his face contorted in agony.
Shock flashed across both their faces. They hadn’t expected me to actually shoot. I don’t know why the hell not. Did I look like I was joking? I mean, both men already had gunshot wounds. Did they think this was a game?
“Let’s try this again,” I said. “Who sent you?”
The second guy’s angry gaze snapped to me.
“You fucking bitch,” he spat, his face reddening with rage. “We haven’t hurt you. Why are you doing this?”
“Answer my questions,” I told him, unmoved by his outburst. “Who sent you?”
The bastard smirked, a nasty expression creeping over his face.
“I’d rather you do something else with that pretty mouth of yours rather than talk.” His eyes raked over my body, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “I’ve got a question for you. Is black pussy just as pink as white pussy?”
Eve stepped forward as the bastard’s laughter echoed around the room. I placed my hand on her shoulder to stop her advance.
“I’ve got this,” I told her, glaring at the bastard who was still smirking at me.
I raised my weapon, pointing it directly at his forehead. His smirk faltered slightly.
“Fuck you,” he yelled, eyes widening when I smiled at him. “Daniel is going to make you bitches…”
I pulled the trigger. The bullet tore through his skull, spraying brain matter and blood across the wall behind him. Some of it splattered onto the driver, who flinched and made a choked sound of horror.
Droplets of warm wetness hit my face and clothes. The man’s body slumped forward, mouth ajar, his final threat left unfinished.
“Damn it. I got blood on my shoe,” Eve complained, frowning down at her feet.
I followed her gaze, then looked at my own heels. Yup. I had blood on mine, too. Shit. Oh, well.
“I hate getting blood on my shoes,” Eve complained.
“It’s not like you’ve never had blood on your shoes before.” I wiped my cheek with the back of my hand. “Don’t tell me being in Italy has made you soft,” I teased.
“No. It’s just… Enzo is going to get mad if he finds out about this. I don’t want any evidence left behind from what we’ve done today.”
I rolled my eyes. “Who runs that relationship, him or you?”
“It’s a partnership,” she replied, lifting her leg to wipe her shoe against the dead guy’s pants, trying to get the blood off.
“Well, your partner should understand that sometimes ladies get blood on their shoes.”
“Blood from their enemies?” she asked.
“It happens.” I shrugged, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. For us, it was. “Plus, your man is the leader of a mafia family. I’m sure he comes home with blood on his shoes all the time.”
“True,” she muttered, still wiping her shoes on Mr. Hoodie. “But these heels were expensive.”
She had a point there.
“Mine too. From now on, we need to keep a pair of tennis shoes in the trunk. I saw a really cute pair online last week…”
“Please, release me,” the driver pleaded, interrupting our chat. “I’m sorry for crashing into you. I’m sorry for stalking you. I swear I won’t come after you again. Either of you. I’ll even give you the recordings from my car. Just don’t kill me,” he begged, voice trembling.
“Shut up,” Eve and I yelled in unison.
The nerve of him to interrupt us while we were talking about shoes! Damn it, why were we talking about shoes? We needed answers so we could leave before Stefano and Enzo started calling us.
Oh, right. Our phones were in Eve’s wrecked car. They’d probably already tried to call us. I sighed, my head starting to ache again from the stress of it all.
“Are you ready to talk?” I asked the driver, turning my full attention back to him.
“Yes,” he nodded, his arms crossed over his chest, hands holding his wounds as he tried to stop the bleeding.
His face had gone pale, and sweat beaded his forehead. He didn’t have much time left if he didn’t get medical attention. Not that I was planning to give him any.
“Daniel Abeli sent me,” he confessed, the words tumbling out fast.
“Abeli?” Eve gasped.
I glanced at her. “Do you know them?”
She looked at me, her eyes wide with recognition. “That’s Enzo’s mother’s side of the family.”
“Oh, shit,” I muttered, returning my attention to the driver as he continued to speak.
“I don’t know why he wanted us to watch you,” he told us, his breathing labored now. “We were to watch and record where you went and try to figure out your day-to-day schedule. We were told not to approach you and to back off if you were with Stefano DeLuca or Don DeLuca.”
He slumped slightly in his chair, the blood loss clearly taking its toll.
“I’ve told you everything,” he continued, his voice shaking, his eyes locked on my gun. “I don’t know anything else. I swear.”
I believed him. He’d told us everything he knew, which meant he was of no more use to us. I pointed my gun at his head. We couldn’t leave witnesses behind.
“Please, no...” he begged, tears welling in his eyes.
I was just about to pull the trigger when the sound of a car coming down the alley caught my attention.
“More of your guys?” Eve asked the driver.
“No. I... I don’t think so,” he stuttered.
“I’ll check it out,” I volunteered, my heels clicking softly against the floor as I approached the grimy window.
Dirt and dust coated the glass, making it hard to see out. I wiped a small spot with the hem of my shirt and stared out to see black vehicles speeding down the alleyway. The first car skidded to a halt behind the car that had rammed into us.
I gasped when the driver’s side door opened and out stepped… My savage. His face was set in grim lines, his body radiating tension even from this distance. He moved like a predator, his gun already drawn.
Behind him, more men poured out of vehicles. He’d brought a whole team of motherfuckers with him. Including the don. Damn it! My gaze drifted to the end of the alleyway when Terzo’s motorcycle appeared, the engine revving before he killed it and dismounted, pulling his helmet off.
Not you too, Terzo!
“What’s going on?” Eve called out from behind me.
Damn it. Damn it. Damn it.
“It’s Stefano, Enzo, Terzo, and a team of motherfuckers,” I told Eve, watching as they approached the side door with their weapons raised.
“How the hell did they find us?” she rasped, eyes widening.
“I have no idea,” I muttered.
How had they tracked us down so quickly? We’d ditched our security detail. I was sure of it.
“We can’t even interrogate our enemies in peace,” Eve complained.
“I know, right?” I agreed.
“Please, let me go before they come in,” the driver begged, his tone high, voice desperate. “I promise I had no intention of hurting either of you.”
Neither of us was listening to him. Our attention was fixed on the door, waiting for the inevitable moment when our men burst through, ready to tear apart anyone who had dared touch what was theirs.
Judging from the look on Stefano’s face as he approached, someone was going to die today. I rushed over to Eve, my mind racing. The doors would burst open any second now, and our men would find us with one dead body and one bleeding captive.
We were supposed to be heading home from our cooking class like good little girlfriends. Yet, here we were, in an old furniture store, doing murdery shit.