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)
“Hang on,” Frankie says, scooting away before I can stop him.
I hear shouting and the rapid pop of semi-automatic fire. I can’t tell who’s winning and who’s losing. There are boots on the pavement as more people arrive, and then more yelling and more gunshots. I sink lower behind the box, praying for it all to end. I can’t tell what’s happening to Francisco or to Frankie. And the thought of Brandon being killed fills me with dread.
I need more information. Crawling on my hands and knees, I peek out from behind my cover. The warehouse door is busted. One of Francisco’s cars sits in the breach, smoking from hundreds of bullet holes. There is a group of men hiding behind it, popping out to fire before ducking back under cover.
There are more men running around in the center of the room. I think they are Carlo Andretti’s men. I see one catch a bullet to the eye and fall to his death. The sight is horrifying, and I turn around in disgust.
But I still can’t see any of my family members, so I know I have to try again. This time, when I look out, I find Frankie along the far wall. He’s dragging my brother’s limp body behind another crate. I exhale in relief. At least, Brandon and Frankie are safe. But that doesn’t give me any clue about my husband.
I scan the warehouse anxiously, looking for any sign of the Don. He’s nowhere to be seen, and that creates a deep pit of fear in my stomach. If Francisco dies, it will all be my fault. Why did I ever think that I could rescue Brandon on my own?
I hear another sound, like a metal door opening. Looking to my left, I see a rectangle of light at the opposite end of the warehouse. Carlo Andretti slips through, leaving his troops to die on their own.
I glance around, checking to see if any of Francisco’s men are going after him. But no one seems aware of his escape. I wonder if I should go after him, but decide against it. The only thing I would likely do is get myself kidnapped again. And that would negate all the trouble that Francisco went through.
“He’s getting away!” I shout, hoping someone will hear me.
I look right to check on my brother. Brandon still isn’t moving, and Frankie is crouched above him, peering around the box they’re hiding behind. My son-in-law doesn’t notice me. He’s focused on the firefight.
I want to get his attention, but the battle is too loud. I’m trapped where I am, with no options. I can’t get across the room without risking my own life. So, I put my back to the crate and press my hands to my ears.
After what feels like forever, I hear the gunshots die down. In their absence, I can hear car wheels spinning. It seems like Giovanni’s car is lodged halfway into the warehouse, and no one thought to put on the brakes. People are still yelling, but I can sense a bit of hope in their voices.
I put my palms on the cement floor and crawl out from behind my box.
Dozens of bodies litter the ground, most of them belonging to Andretti’s men. My eyes don’t stop roaming the warehouse until I find my husband. He’s alive. He’s got his back to the wall beside the door, gun out and scanning the room.
I forget about Brandon for the moment, a more pressing concern captivating my thoughts. “He’s getting away!” I shout, climbing to my feet.
Francisco looks at me for clarification, and I point to the back door. Francisco and his brother Giovanni take off, leaping over corpses to chase down their enemy. I watch them burst through the emergency exit, hoping that they’ll be okay.
A few of Francisco’s men go after them, leaving the Italian soldiers behind. I’m about to follow them when Frankie calls my name.
“Marlena!” he shouts.
I hurry across the warehouse to where he’s hiding with my brother. I crouch down to check Brandon for signs of life. He’s still unconscious, but he’s breathing, and he has a pulse.
“He’s alive!” I shout triumphantly.
“Get in the car,” Luca says, coming around the side of the battle-worn vehicle.
I stare at it in dismay. I can’t believe the thing will run now, and even if it does, how can we possibly get it back home without getting stopped by the police? Luca grabs me by the arm and points out into the parking lot. Through the hole created by one vehicle, I can see another in pristine condition.
I stop to grab Brandon. There’s no way I can lift him on my own, but I have to try.
“Go!” Frankie says, looping one of Brandon’s arms over his shoulder. He struggles to lift my brother before Luca comes to his aid.