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Gino pulled himself inside the window just in time to miss losing his head to a nearby truck. “Boss is gonna be piiissed.”
Dom scowled before his eyes flew to the rearview mirror to see the black sedan weaving in and out of traffic, getting closer and closer. “Then how about we focus on staying alive long enough sohecan kill us?”
Gino snorted, and just as he was about to respond, heavy gunfire began to pepper the back of the car.
“Motherfuckers,” Dom spat. So they were gonna play like that, were they? Take out their target with no care for anyone around them. He wasn’t sure why he was so damn surprised. The Fiores had always acted like the thugs everyone knew them to be. “They’re not backing down.”
“Fucking assholes,” Gino muttered as he looked between their seats to the back window. “You think you could move a little faster, Dom? These shitheads are gaining on us.”
Dom kept one eye on the rearview mirror and one on the bridge. It’d been an unspoken rule that none of the families warred in the streets with pedestrians in such close proximity, but apparently the Rossettis had set the Fiores off. And they deserved every bit of it and more.
He managed to pull ahead by a couple of cars and was shocked as the gunfire stopped when they crossed the East River back into Manhattan. Gino took the opportunity to reload both his and Dom’s guns, and not a second too soon, because once they hit FDR Drive, the chase was back on.
He whipped through the traffic, which was, thankfully, moving this time of day, otherwise their asses would be sitting ducks. He only saw the one car behind them, but he had no doubt there were others, maybe even waiting near Midas, though that would be a fucking stupid move. Times Square was swamped with police, cameras, all the security you could wish for, which was exactly why they’d chosen to build there. If Dom could just get to Midtown, he knew that even the Fiores didn’t have the balls to come closer.
Fuck, this was exactly why he’d wanted to get inside his place. He wasn’t loaded up with his own shit at the penthouse.
“Dom, you’ve gotta move,” Gino said, half turned toward the blown-out back window, both Glocks in his hands.
As Dom raced through the traffic, his adrenaline pumped, not so much from fear but the thrill of the chase. Hewantedthese fuckers to come at him. Taking down the heirs of the Fiore family meant more than a slap on the wrist, and Dom wanted them to fucking bring it.
He just wanted to be better armed and better positioned when they did.
“They’re comin’ in close,” Gino said. “Push it.”
Dom swerved lanes, only to be cut off by a black Suburban. “Fuck. I’m blocked. Is that—”
“Yeah, it is. Shit.”
He veered back into the right lane as a bullet ricocheted off the hood. One of Fiore’s men was hanging out the back window to get a good shot.
Dom held his hand out to Gino for the Glock, and with one hand on the wheel, he aimed it at the man pulling stupid moves. A cry rang out, at least one of the bullets making impact, and the guy dropped back inside the SUV.
“Nice shot,” Gino said, his attention darting between the cars. They were outnumbered with no time to call in reinforcements, but there was a reason Gino was Dom’s pick today—he was a killer shot.
“Hold on,” Dom murmured. They were almost at the turnoff, so if he could just get past this asshole—
Gino fired shots at the car behind them as it made contact with the Porsche’s rear bumper. The car veered to the left, sending Dom’s shoulder slamming hard into the paneling. He struggled to straighten out, and it was that moment of distraction that had the SUV in front in prime position.
It was a good fuckin’ thing whoever pulled the trigger had shit aim, because instead of blowing his head off, the bullet went into his left arm. He dropped his gun into Gino’s lap to take hold of the wheel with his good hand, clenching his teeth from the pain.
“I’m hit,” he managed. “Shit, Gino, take these guys out already.”
If Dom had thought his adrenaline was spiking before, it was nothing compared to what flowed through him now. The Fiores had gotten a hit on him, and that was un-fucking-acceptable.
He didn’t give a shit about road rules now. Even shot to hell, his Porsche could do laps around these assholes, pedestrians be damned.
Gino took out the front tire of the sedan behind them, which sent the car spiraling, slamming into the innocents behind him. Dom didn’t have time to think or care about that, not when he had to get them safely back to Midas without shock settling in. He could deal with that later.
“Ready,” Gino said, and Dom floored the Porsche, bringing them alongside the SUV.
Dom flattened his back against his seat, and Gino leaned across him and aimed at the open passenger window. Two well-placed shots later, the SUV disappeared out of Dom’s periphery and as he sped up the FDR toward his exit, he saw it come to a complete stop. Horns began to honk.
He glanced to Gino, who was settling back on his side of the vehicle looking smug. “Between the eyes?”
“And one through the temple. Hey, they wouldn’t back the fuck off. Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to take the heat with the bossman.”
Dom wasn’t sure anything could save him from the hellfire that would rain down on him when his father heard what just happened, but he knew he had to be the one to tell him. “Get him on the phone.”
“You sure you don’t want to maybe get to Midas first?”
“I’m not going to let him hear about this from anyone else. Get him on the phone.” Dom weaved in between the daytime traffic as he made his way toward Midtown, and when the phone connected, his father’s familiar deep baritone came through the line.
“Son.”
Dom looked down to his blood-soaked shirt and then tightened his grip around the steering wheel before he said the one thing he knew his father would understand without question.
“The mourning period is over.”
