Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Bella
The quad bike bucked beneath us, and I wrapped my arms around Declan, pressing myself tighter against his back as terror crashed through my mind.
Rocco and Pike were my fiancé's henchmen. The Vitale mafia. Men who didn't forgive. Didn't forget. And they'd tracked me across an ocean and a continent to prove it.
I'd been so stupid to think I was safe here.
So impossibly, catastrophically stupid. I'd thought hiding in the vast, empty heart of Australia would make me invisible. Mom had told me about this place just before she’d died. She’d warned me about the Branson family.
But I'd come anyway, chasing answers I probably shouldn't want.
I'd thought distance would save me.
I'd thought wrong.
The mafia always got their revenge. Always.
It was their mantra. That's why Dad and his brother had been killed.
Nonna had told me stories when I was little, warning me about the mafia family, about debts that lasted generations, about blood that called for blood.
She'd told stories about them like fairy tales. Good versus evil, heroes versus monsters. I’d never dreamed they were real.
Until I’d nearly married one of them.
I should have known they'd find me.
I should have given up my quest for answers and kept running.
Now, it was too late.
The engine roared beneath us, and another crack split the air.
“Shit!” I squealed as the bullet ricocheted off a rock to our left, sending chips of stone flying.
My chest constricted until I couldn't breathe. Not because of the bullets, but because Declan was now in danger too.
Declan, who'd been so kind to me since I'd arrived at Koolaroo Ranch with my fake ID and my carefully constructed lies. Declan, who smiled at me when he reached for another cupcake. Who made silly jokes that showed me I could still laugh despite the horror in my past.
I couldn't believe he'd stabbed those men. They were trained killers, and what Declan had done was both amazing and completely crazy.
Rocco and Pike would kill us both now.
Declan was driving like a lunatic, weaving across the scrubland at speeds that should have gotten us both killed. The landscape blurred past in streaks of red and brown.
I gripped his waist tighter, and pain lanced through the burns on my fingers.
I'd barely registered the agony when I'd grabbed that boiling-hot tray, too focused on Rocco's hand coming at my face.
But now, every bump and jolt sent fire shooting through my palms. I'd suffered burns many times in the kitchen from small splashes of boiling liquid and careless touches, but these were bad.
Blisters had formed on the tips of my thumbs.
Every time I tightened my grip on Declan, the burned skin stung like hell.
But the physical pain was nothing compared to the guilt crushing my lungs.
I'd dragged Declan into this.
Sweet, gentle Declan, who worked in the office and had probably never hurt anyone in his entire life until today. Now, he was going to die because of me.
No. I couldn't think that, or I'd shatter into a thousand pieces right here on the back of this quad bike.
Another gunshot cracked through the air, and Declan jerked the handlebars hard right. I bit back a scream as we nearly tipped over. The bike righted itself, and Declan pushed harder, faster, until the engine sounded like it might tear itself apart.
“Declan!” I shouted over the engine noise. “Where are we going?”
He didn't answer. Maybe he couldn't hear me over the roar of the wind and the engine.
Or maybe he had no idea.
We were getting further from the homestead. As we headed up a steep incline, the scrubland stretched endlessly in all directions. We were exposed and had absolutely nowhere to hide.
I glanced over my shoulder. The car was still there, bouncing violently over the rough ground. It couldn't handle the terrain like this quad bike could.
Declan shot the quad over the top of the hill, and we launched into the air.
We slammed down hard, the impact almost tearing me from the seat.
The tires skidded left, then right, fighting for grip.
We tipped dangerously before Declan wrestled the handlebars and righted us.
He gunned the engine and headed straight for another massive herd of cattle.
Hundreds of beasts spread across the landscape like a living sea of brown and white. Most of them had a massive hump on their shoulders and long, curved horns.
And Declan aimed straight for them.
“What are you doing?” I screamed.
Blaring the horn, he charged straight at the herd with reckless determination that sent terror shooting through me.
Cattle scattered as we bore down on them, bellowing and stampeding in wild, unpredictable patterns. Chaos erupted around us. Declan didn't slow. He plunged into the middle of the herd, weaving between massive bodies and using them as cover.
I peered over my shoulder as the car launched over the top of the hill. It slammed down the other side so hard the bonnet flew up. The car skidded wildly, kicking up a massive cloud of red dust behind it.
As the car jerked to a stop, terrified cattle surrounded it, stampeding in different directions at once. Hooves thundered against hard-packed earth. Dust choked the air. Noise and chaos swallowed the world.
A gunshot cracked somewhere behind us.
Declan navigated through the cows like he'd done this a thousand times before, ducking around a massive bull, swerving to avoid a cow and calf, then gunning the engine to shoot through a gap that closed again behind us.
More gunshots boomed behind us, sporadic and desperate. The bastards fired into the herd. Animals ran harder, bellowing in terror. Dust and thrashing cattle swallowed everything around us.
Oh God. They're killing those poor cows because of me. A knot choked my throat. Tears burned my eyes and mixed with the dust, blurring everything. My fingers hurt. My eyes hurt. My heart, my soul, everything hurt.
I pressed my face against Declan's shoulder, my voice barely more than breath.
“They won't stop,” I said.
He didn't slow.
Shame tightened my chest as I forced the truth out.
“You need to stop helping me. You can't save me,” I went on, my stomach twisting. “Now, they'll target you, too, Declan. Because of me.”
The quad bike bounced hard, and his grip on the handlebars tightened.
We burst free of the herd, streaking into open ground.
I glanced back. Through the blur, the black car had disappeared. We'd lost them in the chaos.
Declan gunned the engine, and we flew across the bumpy scrubland. My burned hands stung from holding on so tight, but I refused to let go. I couldn't.
“Declan,” I said again, leaning close to his ear. “We may have lost them for now, but they'll never stop chasing us.”
He still didn't answer.
Even though he was Frank's son, I had to trust him. I still couldn't believe he'd thrown those knives at those men. If he hadn't, I would be dead.
I glanced over my shoulder, and my gut clenched.
The car raced along the top of the ridge. They were still coming.
Of course, they were. Mafia men didn't give up. Not until they got what they came for.
The ground grew rockier, more uneven. Small cliffs jutted up around us, thrusting up from the brutal landscape. We were heading toward rougher country, too barren even for the cows.
Declan aimed for a gap between two giant rocks. I caught my breath as we squeezed through with inches to spare on either side. Behind us on the ridge, the black car slowed to navigate a massive boulder.
We'd gained maybe thirty seconds.
Not enough.
I peered over Declan's shoulder. Ahead of us, a gaping hole appeared out of nowhere in the side of a low cliff, like the mouth of some ancient monster.
Declan raced straight toward it.
It was too square in shape to be a cave. Was it an old mine?
Declan didn't slow down. He drove straight at that dark opening.
What is this place?
Behind us, the black car crested the ridge.
For a split second, it stopped there, silhouetted against the brilliant blue sky before it plunged down the slope.
The engine roared as Pike gunned it straight at us.
It had to be Pike. He always drove like a maniac.
Dust exploded behind the car in a massive red plume.
They closed the distance fast, too fast, no longer navigating around obstacles but smashing straight through them.
Two hundred meters away. Then one hundred and fifty.
Shit! They'd catch us before we reached that hole.
Fear exploded in my chest. Pure, primal, absolute.
The quad's engine screamed as Declan pushed it to its limit. Wind tore at my hair. My burned fingers throbbed with every heartbeat.
We're going to die.
I squeezed my eyes shut and pressed my face against Declan's back, whispering the same prayer I'd whispered over Dad's bloody body. Santa Maria, Madre di Dio...