Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Tre
I didn’t know pregnancy cravings could start this early, but I’ve been longing for a Boston cream pie.
After much coaxing, I convinced Joaquin to take me to one of the local bakeries known for the pie.
He’d offered to send one of his guys out to get me an entire truck full, but I was going stir-crazy only leaving the house for walks through my parents neighborhood after Joaquin’s conversation with my dad and uncles.
He took pity on me since I was ready to climb the walls.
I don’t know if my taste buds have changed already, but it was monumentally disappointing. However, it might very well be because I’m used to Sera’s, and very few could live up to such a high bar.
It was a nice morning out, so I don’t dare complain, since it was against Joaquin’s better judgment. Salvatore’s due to arrive this afternoon. Joaquin’s worried someone will get wind of that and try to intervene—and not necessarily by targeting Salvatore.
“It was nice to get out of the house and spend some time with just you. The only time we’ve been alone the last few days has been at night, little one. I don’t look forward to the weekends quite as much as I did before.”
He gives me a rueful smile, since neither of my parents had work over the weekend.
They were at the house with us all day, Saturday and Sunday.
I’ve enjoyed the time with my parents and when Tristano comes over.
However, I’m getting to that point where I’m ready to climb up the walls and head back to New York.
In the good old days, when I got tired of my parents’ company, I would go to my apartment here in town.
However, I gave up the lease when I moved to New York.
So, short of going to my brother’s, my cousins’, or my aunts’ and uncles’ homes, we’re stuck here because Joaquin definitely won’t consider a hotel when we can have an entire contingent of armed guards patrolling the property.
“Do you want to walk for a little while, chica?”
Joaquin helps me out of my chair as though I’m nine months pregnant and ready to waddle.
It’s incredibly thoughtful, and I enjoy being this spoiled.
I could certainly get used to it, though I suspect he’d be exactly the same even if I wasn’t pregnant.
He pushes the chair in behind me, then presses his hand to my lower back as he guides me toward the door.
I’m about to agree with his suggestion, but I have to stifle my yawn.
It’s my turn to give him a rueful expression.
“I think now that I’m full, I’m a bit sleepy.”
“Would you prefer to head back, then?”
I sigh.
“I don’t want to, but it’s probably for the best if we do.”
We head toward the parking structure. It made Joaquin twitchy to park here. He feels it’s too exposed, with places for someone to hide. The head guard, waiting with four other men to protect the vehicle, greets us.
“?Qué pasa?”
Joaquin asks the guard what’s going on. I don’t think he’s overly suspicious or concerned right now. I think it’s just a regular check-in.
“Nada, capo.”
I sweep my gaze over our SUV, along with the three parked near ours.
Guards surround those vehicles too. We have a full array of Diaz and Vizzini men.
Knowing they’re protecting me, my dad’s men have been incredibly accommodating to Joaquin.
They’ve been willing to take orders from him gracefully.
I feared there’d be conflict among the men, but I’m ever grateful they’re getting along for my sake.
One of Joaquin’s men opens the back passenger-side door, and I slide in.
It’s become customary for me to do this, so Joaquin never has to be on the opposite side of me while outside the vehicle.
Joaquin holds my hand as I ease onto the middle seat, preferring not to be that far from him.
I know he prefers it too, since that’s where he tugged me to the first time we went out after I was discharged.
I had to sit by the window on the way home from the hospital because my parents were in the third row, and Tristano was in the front passenger seat.
I rest my head against Joaquin’s shoulder, and he switches hands so he can wrap his arm around my shoulders as we pull out of the parking garage.
“Sleep, little one. It’s not like there’s much to see.”
It’s so tough not calling him Daddy in moments like this, but I would never do that, especially not in front of the men who work for Joaquin. We enter traffic, and there’s really no reason for me to remain awake, so I shut my eyes. I’m not entirely sure I’ll fall asleep, but I can tell I’m dozing.
I’m in that semi-state—half-asleep, half-awake—when Joaquin yells to the driver.
“Pull over! Pull over right now! Stop! Chiquita, wake up. Wake up.”
He jostles my shoulder, and my eyes snap open as I look around.
Joaquin reaches across me and unfastens my seat belt as the car comes to a stop.
His hand undoes his belt, then pulls the door handle before he kicks it open.
His hand wraps around my upper arm. He pulls and practically yanks it from the socket.
“Come on, chiquita. We have to go.”
“Joaco—”
“Tre, now.”
I don’t understand what’s happening, and I have to concentrate on where we’re going to keep up with Joaquin. His men are encircling us, guns drawn. He twists and hefts me over his shoulder and takes off at a sprint.
We haven’t gotten as far as I thought when a fireball leaps toward the sky, and it feels like someone pitched me into a burning furnace. It takes me a moment to comprehend what’s going on around us.
The SUV we were in only a minute ago exploded, and flaming pieces rain down from the sky.
The scent of burning rubber scorches my nostrils, and a wave of nausea makes me gag.
I feel like I’m falling, yet I know Joaquin’s cradling me as he drops to his knees, then covers my body with his.
I curl up as small as I can with him already pressing down on me before I can fully gather my wits.
Two more bombs detonate only a couple seconds apart from each other, destroying two other SUVs.
“Joaco?”
“I’m here, chiquita. Are you okay?”
“Yes, you?”
He grunts.
“Joaco—”
I try to push him off me, but he doesn’t budge. I can’t tell if he’s injured and can’t, or he refuses so he can protect me. Either way, it’s getting hard to breathe with his weight bearing down on me.
“Joaquin, I need air.”
I’m gasping at this point. The moment he hears me, he pushes up onto his hands and knees, but he doesn’t stand. He stares at me and looks around. I try to do the same, but he shifts and blocks my line of sight.
That tells me it’s bad.
It’s really, really bad.
There must be bodies.
“Don’t look, chiquita.”
“But what if they need help?”
“Our men are doing that right now.”
There’s a finality to his voice that tells me it’s more of a body count than a rescue.
“We have to go. Can you walk?”
“I think so. I don’t know.”
To say I feel a bit shaken would be the understatement of a lifetime.
My ears are ringing as my heart races so hard that my ribs ache.
My nose still burns, and the air’s grown so dry, that my throat’s scratchy.
But I grit my teeth and accept Joaquin’s help as he far more gently grasps my upper arms and eases me to my feet.
He shifts to keep me from seeing the entire scene, but I spy enough to understand.
“How’d you know?”
“The sound the engine started making.”
I grew up in Boston, but I’m momentarily disoriented with the plumes of smoke.
I sweep my gaze over our surroundings, trying to get my bearings again.
The few people who were on the streets around us have disappeared, scattered to the wind, wisely sheltering somewhere.
A handful of Diaz men surround us while I spy a mix of Vizzini and Diaz guards tending to ones on the ground.
I’m too rattled for my sluggish mind to take in much more than that.
I observe Joaquin, and he appears unfazed, but I know that’s not the case.
He’s just been trained not to show his emotions.
It’s so fucked-up, but it’s so calming at the same time.
He slings me over his shoulder again and takes off. I don’t know how he can run with me like this. I swallow my moans as his shoulder digs into my belly. It’s already tender. I squeeze my eyes shut to battle back the nausea from being upside down and bouncing with each step.
“Chiquita, I know you can’t be comfortable, but we have to get inside somewhere now.”
I hear the strain in his voice, and I can tell he’s scared he’s hurting the baby or me, but his fear that someone might open fire on us outweighs that worry.
We can’t head back to the bakery because it’s too far, and whoever did this likely knows we were there.
Joaquin bolts through an alley, crosses a street, and runs down another alley.
I have a rough idea of where we are, so I open one eye a crack as Joaquin slows.
He spotted a bank. Just before we turn the building’s corner, he sets me on my feet.
His men holster their guns but continue to surround us. Joaquin hustles me inside.
“Good afternoon.”
A far too chipper man greets us. Or maybe he’s totally normal, and I have no grip on reality.
Joaquin guides me toward some seats, and I gladly sink onto one.
My heart’s still drumming in my ears. Maybe it’s actually a ringing from the noise the three explosions made.
I don’t know how no one was screaming. Maybe they were, and I couldn’t process yet another stimulus.
“What can we help you with today?”
“Nothing. My wife suddenly felt a bit dizzy, so I brought her inside to rest for a couple minutes.”
“Oh, ma’am, I’m sorry to hear that. Can I get you some water?”
“That would be great. Thank you.”
I close my eyes and inhale through my nose. I sense Joaquin hovering even more, yet he says nothing and doesn’t even touch me. I keep my voice so low that I worry he might not hear me.