Chapter Twenty-Two
Zahra
Adrenaline pumped through my veins as Elio and I ran around the car to take immediate cover. The bullets didn’t stop, slamming into the black SUV, shattering its windows.
I hissed as the glass rained down on us, light, sharp, and graceless.
Elio was covered from head to toe, unlike me, whose skin was exposed to any little graze.
My breathing was harsh and my heart was racing.
“What the fuck is happening!” I yelled as Elio reached behind him, seeming very calm as he pulled out his gun.
“It’s an a–mbush, th–at’s w–hat,” Devil said.
“Conne–ction’s failing, fuck…” Upper said, his voice a distant static, but I could still pick out its tight edge.
“I still don’t get it. An ambush for a painting?” I said, breathless and annoyed.
Elio shifted beside me, lifting his head a little to—I guess—see who was shooting or how many of them were there.
Another string of bullets came, slapping against the car in sharp thudding noises that had my blood running hot. Elio ducked immediately, cursing while sending a stern glare my way. “There are about six of them, maybe more. We have one gun, and I am in no mood to kill anyone tonight.”
My eyes widened. “Well, if you haven’t noticed, they’re kind of in the mood to kill us.”
He looked around before his gaze settled on the Lamborghini a short distance away, and then he looked back at the SUV we were shielding ourselves with. “Okay, I’ll cover you.”
“Wait, wh—”
“On my signal, you’ll open this door and check the glove compartment for weapons.”
“What—” The side mirror shattered beside my head, and I cursed, ducking further down as I whisper-yelled at him. “What if there aren’t any weapons? Got any other smart ideas?”
He grunted, almost as if he couldn’t deal with me, and then in urgency, gave me the gun. “Cover me. I’ll do it.”
“What the fuck—” He was already opening the door as if people weren’t shooting at us. “Crazy motherfucker.” I got in position; the gun was heavy in my grip as I shot back at them, bullets flying blindly in the direction of the boats, and I caught dark figures ducking.
As fast as he had raced to open the door, Elio was back beside me, a gun in his hand, which he quickly checked for bullets before clicking in place.
“How did you know—” A shot wheezed past my ear, and I groaned, swiftly getting back in position to find the fucker who had shot it reloading his gun. I set the angle, targeting the side of his head, before pressing the trigger. His body dropped lifelessly to the ground.
I retook cover, only to find Elio’s eyes on me.
“Some—ahh!” I winced in pain as the comm in my ear sent out a sharp noise that had me rushing to take it out. The device was hot against my hand, and I quickly threw it to the ground, my ear burning. I grazed the spot and brought my shaking fingers to my view, blood staining them. “Motherfucker!”
“We have to get to the car.” Elio’s voice reached me, and I realized he hadn’t been shooting back. “First, we need—”
At the sound of tires screeching, I turned to see a bunch of black SUVs pulling up roughly without formation, men filing out of them like fucking ants. “Are those your people?”
Elio watched the new change, confusion dragging down his brows. “No.”
One of the men stopped by our ride, checking it carefully before stepping back and shooting at the windows and the tires of the Lamborghini, in other words, killing our means of escape.
The shooting doubled now, no longer aimed at us but at the people who were once shooting at us.
“Throw it in!” somebody yelled, followed by an engine revving.
“Oh God,” I muttered as two SUVs came slamming at the Lamborghini, making it shift forward violently.
The SUV riders didn’t seem to care about the damage the hit did to their cars because they were now reversing, stepping on the gas and colliding into Elio’s car again; I watched it groan and tumble before falling into the water with a thick splash.
After that, the space between Elio and me went quiet.
I blinked, turning ever so slowly to Elio, who sucked in a deep breath, lips pressed tightly together.
“I am genuinely sorry. I felt that right in my heart. The beauty didn’t deserve to go down like that.”
He swallowed. “That apology should be addressed to Casmiro if we ever see him again.”
“That was his car?” I asked in a wheeze.
“No. That was his baby.”
“Shit.”
Elio moved past me swiftly, showing me his back as he scanned the area. “Our cover is about to be blown.”
I gripped the gun tightly. “What the fuck are we gonna do?”
“We have to be quick.”
I frowned. “What do you mean by we have to be quick?”
He looked back at me. “We are going to run.”
I searched his eyes for any hint of a joke. There was none. “No, we can’t—”
He grabbed my wrist. “Come on, on the count of three—”
“No, wait, we’re not—”
“Two.”
“We have no fucking cover, E—”
He was on his feet, pulling me along with him as we sprinted down the open area towards the SUVs.
From the corner of my eye, I saw one of the boats filled with men taking cover and shooting at the other party that had just arrived.
What the fucking hell is happening?
Elio pulled us down again behind one of the SUVs. He blew out a short breath, his eyes doing that sharp movement thing again as he looked around. “Were you shot?”
“No, I wasn’t, but you’d love that, wouldn’t you.”
He ignored me. “We’re taking one of their cars, they’ll probably chase us, but you have an outstanding aim, so we should be fine.”
I swallowed, leveling my breathing. “What the fuck is in this painting? They literally brought a whole goddamn army.”
“How much were you paid to retrieve it?”
I hesitated, sucking in my pride as I spoke. “Five thousand dollars.”
His head snapped towards me sharply. “Five thousand dollars?” he almost yelled.
“It was a moment of weakness; trust me, we regret taking the job.”
“Nobody would send this many people to kill for a painting worth five thousand dollars,” he stated, his stern gaze locked on mine.
We stared at each other, my head roaming with thoughts, mind racing, gears shifting.
“Well fuck,” I finally said, cocking the gun. “Now four parties are gunning for this fucking twisted chihuahua.”
“Four?”
“Yeah, the person who paid us, the people who shot him, the people currently shooting at the people who shot him, and now us, the people who stole it.”
Elio shook his head in disbelief. “Greedy fucking thief.”
I smirked. “Psycho fucking killer.”
He let out a frustrated sigh. “Come on.” And then he was moving again; I followed him swiftly.
We quietly maneuvered through the maze of cars, ducking when we came in line with some of the men standing guard while the others shot at the boat people.
I held tighter to the painting, knowing that whatever it was had to be something big. Big enough to cause this amount of chaos in such a short period.
“Hold,” Elio said, stopping, and I froze behind him.
Scoffing, I tsked. “Acting like you were in the army,” I muttered.
“I was,” he said without looking back. “A year. It was enough to learn that when a superior says hold, you shut your mouth and hold.”
I did shut up, stretching my neck to see him eyeing a car by a near end; a man stood there, alert, gun in hand, looking for any unusual movement, presumably.
“We’re taking that one,” Elio said, voice low, calm, and precise.
“Okay, sure, what’s the plan? Walking up to him and asking to borrow his car because we have to run away from him?”
Elio’s form stilled for about three seconds before he suddenly stood upright, turning to me as his head tilted to the side, eyeing me from head to toe.
I took a step back. “Whatever you’re thinking? It’s a bad idea.”
“Scream,” he commanded.
“What?”
“Scream. Now.”
“I’m not just gonna fucking—”
His hand wrapped around my throat, and he slammed my body into one of the cars, causing an instinctive shriek from me.
His body pressed to mine, all rugged ridges over my soft curves as he whispered to my face, “Now, was that so hard?” His hand gripped my ponytail, pulling off the wig and removing the wig cap.
My hair fell free, and then he was gone, disappearing behind cars.
It all happened within seconds, and I didn’t have time to catch myself or to hear the footsteps before they reached me; the man who’d been guarding the car was standing there, gun in hand, confusion on his face as he stared at me, holding the painting for dear life.
“Um…” My voice shook. “I don’t know what’s happening, but I was asked to deliver this, and then people were shooting, and now there are too many cars and too many dead people”—something shifted behind the man—“and I just wanna go home because I’m so scared”—fake crying—“I didn’t plan to do this, but my fucking boyfriend said it would be quick, but now it’s messed up.
One minute I was dressed up for our date together”—fake heave—“and the next, he gives me this ugly painting and tells me his friend Marcus would be here, and then he had a bullet in his head, and then the gunshots and I don’t wanna die because I have college and fashion school and my whole future. ” Fake sob.
“Miss—” He couldn’t complete his statement because Elio was bashing his head in with a—a stone potted plant that shattered on impact. The man fell with a dull thud to the ground.
My stare was blank. “A potted plant, really?”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know, maybe because you have a silencer in your hand?”
“I told you I wasn’t in the mood to kill anyone tonight.” Then he bent and searched the man’s pockets, got the SUV keys, and walked in its direction silently; I followed behind him as he unlocked the car.
We got in, locking the doors softly. “I don’t get you. One minute you’re a psychopath who kills innocent people, and the next, you’re not?”