Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 111537 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 558(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111537 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 558(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
I grab a gun out of the glove compartment, checking to see if it’s loaded. But then I reconsider. The first thing they’re likely to do is search me for weapons. And I don’t want to give them an extra one to shoot me with. Or worse, give them a way to frame me for Marlena’s murder.
So I leave the weapon right where it is, and climb out of the car. I want to run, but I force myself to power walk. I need to appear rational, even though I’m not. I take the extra few seconds to scan the outside of the building. I don’t see any thugs or snipers. It looks perfectly innocent until I step inside.
In the middle of the warehouse, I spy Marlena and Frankie. They’ve got their hands tied behind their backs, and they’re surrounded by Andretti’s men. I notice that Andretti himself is standing in front of them, reveling in his power.
I cut straight through all the lowlifes, not giving a damn, and reach for the duct tape that binds my wife. She doesn’t recognize me at first, and struggles.
“Relax,” I tell her.
“Francisco!” she gasps with relief.
“Corello,” Andretti says, looking smug.
I tear the tape from my wife’s wrists, ignoring her soft protests. I’m sure it hurts, but I need to do it. She turns around immediately and gives me a hug. I’m glad to see she’s alive, but I can’t afford to lose perspective. I peel her off me, pointing to Frankie.
My son nods. I’m pleased to see that he’s not harmed, and that he seems calm. Despite the differences between us, he’s a good man. Marlena begins to tear the tape from his hands as I turn to face Andretti.
“I’m glad you could join us,” Andretti says casually.
“You’re a dead man,” I swear.
“We have ourselves a problem,” Andretti begins, as if we’re negotiating in good faith. “Your wife’s father killed my brother. That’s something I can’t forgive.”
“She had nothing to do with it,” I begin, glancing around at all the weapons pointed in our direction. I count at least a dozen armed men, each one targeting my family with the barrel of a gun.
“Annul your marriage,” Andretti demands. “Let her go, and you and your boy can walk out of here. Otherwise, I’m afraid it’s going to be a three-for-one special.”
I narrow my eyes. Of course, there’s no chance of that happening. I just need to buy a little bit more time until my backup arrives. I turn to Marlena, and that’s when I notice a bright red welt on her cheek. Someone struck her. I wager it was Andretti, since none of his men would make a move without his consent. He’s going to pay for that. If he survives the firefight that’s about to come, I’m going to personally put him in his grave.
I kiss her cheek. “Don’t worry,” I whisper. “You’re safe now.”
“I’m sorry,” she murmurs.
“Don’t be sorry,” I instruct her, putting a hand against the back of her head and pulling her close. “It will all be over soon.”
“He’s going to kill us all, no matter what,” she whispers.
“No, he won’t,” I promise. There’s no way in hell I’m going to let that happen.
Just then, I hear the sound I’ve been waiting for. A car engine accelerates on its way toward the door. I grab Marlena and duck, leaving Frankie to fend for himself. I’m pleased to see that he’s thinking fast. He takes a knee and then rolls out of the way as Giovanni comes barreling through the door at the wheel of a car.
CHAPTER 41
MARLENA
All I can hear is the sound of wood crunching and tires screeching. Then there are multiple explosions as Carlo Andretti’s men open fire. Francisco comes down on top of me, shielding me with his body.
My hands are free now, and I use them to cover my ears. The thunder of battle is deafening, and it’s like nothing I’ve ever heard before. I’m vaguely aware of Francisco and his son yelling at each other.
“I got her, Dad!” Frankie screams.
He reaches underneath my husband’s chest and grabs me by the arm.
“Get her out of here!” Francisco demands.
I’m dragged to my feet but forced to keep low to avoid stray bullets. I can barely see as I run in whatever direction Frankie is taking me. We slide to our knees near the wall, ducking behind one of the few crates left in the warehouse.
Frankie looks at me, putting two hands on my cheeks to check my eyes for shock. “Are you okay?” he demands. “Are you hit?”
“I don’t think so,” I say, touching my torso to check for wounds. I don’t feel any pain, but I’m not positive that the overload of adrenaline coursing through my system wouldn’t mask it. I look at my hands and see that there’s no blood. “Brandon!” I shout, remembering my brother.