Chapter Eight
Gualtiero
“Draw your weapons, but keep them hidden,” I tell my men as we approach the large shed.
I pull my gun free, tucking my hand inside my jacket.
Antonio slides the door open, and it takes my eyes a few seconds to adjust to the dim interior.
The shed is filled with empty carts on one side, full ones on the other. What grabs my attention are the garbage bags strewn across the floor.
“Freeze!” Antonio shouts.
Three figures in maintenance overalls bolt toward a side door. My men raise their weapons.
My body ignites.
Ella.
“Do not shoot!” I roar.
I sprint after them.
“Ella!” I thunder as they reach the door.
She freezes.
After a heartbeat, she turns, while the other two disappear through the opening.
I stop dead.
Our eyes meet.
The world collapses into nothing but her.
My angel.
Shock fills her gaze. Then fear.
It guts me.
She cannot be afraid of me. I love her. I’d burn the world for her.
“Ella,” I whisper.
Her expression softens. Just for a second.
For that moment, we are what we always were. Meant for each other. In love. Forever.
Then the skinny man’s head appears at the doorway. He grabs her arm and yanks her through the exit.
Ella vanishes.
No.
Rage detonates in my chest.
I chase after them, my men following. I burst outside just as the pickup’s doors slam. Tires spin. Dust erupts. The truck roars away.
Pain slams into me, raw and vicious.
A gunshot cracks the air, clawing me out of my stupor.
“You dumbfuck!” I bellow, launching myself at the soldier who fired.
My fist connects. Again. Again.
Nobody shoots at my woman.
Nobody.
I grab him by the collar. “Never shoot at her again.”
I drive my knee into his groin and shove him away. He collapses, bleeding.
The pickup is nearly out of sight.
Fuck.
Antonio’s voice cuts through the noise. “Black pickup heading south. Plate TFT-333. Uberto, get eyes on it. Send two cars.”
Thank God someone is thinking clearly. I nod at Antonio.
We’re in the cars seconds later. Santino floors it as Uberto comes on speaker.
They have a head start, but I can still feel her.
Traffic cameras light up the moment we hit the city.
“Visual acquired,” Uberto says. “Turning left.”
“Go faster.”
Horns blare as we weave through traffic.
“You’re closing in.”
The pickup appears just ahead but then blasts through a red light.
My heart seizes.
A semi-truck barrels through the intersection, missing them by mere inches.
I suck in a harsh breath.
That was too close. I’ll kill whoever is driving.
Santino pushes harder. Tires scream. The distance shrinks.
Come on. Come on. Come on.
Almost.
At the next intersection, the pickup is forced to brake hard for a red light.
Yes.
We pull up a few cars behind them. I grab the door handle, ready to swing it open and dash for the truck.
That’s when they suddenly turn right across the intersection, leaving us behind in a cloud of exhaust and dust.
Merda.
The traffic thickens ahead of us. We’re boxed in.
The pickup disappears into an industrial area lined with sheds.
“I’ve lost visual,” Uberto snaps.
Panic claws at my chest.
“Find her,” I order, forcing my voice to be steady.
“No cameras there. I’ve got surrounding streets.”
We race forward.
“She’s back,” Uberto says.
Followed by, “Oh shit.”
Three identical pickups roll out from behind the sheds, joining the original with perfect coordination.
F.U.C.K.
Four vehicles. Four directions.
Cold spreads through my veins.
“These aren’t amateurs,” Santino mutters.
Uberto’s keyboard clicks frantically. “I can’t track all four.”
I inhale slowly.
“Tell Stefano to follow one. We take another. Uberto, trace the remaining two.”
Ella is not getting away.