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“There he is.” As soon as Tommy stopped, Marco opened the passenger door. “I know better than to try to put you in the backseat.”
“Good man. I’ll be in touch.”
Marco patted the roof of the car and went back into Moretti’s.
“Where to now?” Tommy asked as he waited for me to buckle my seatbelt.
“Home. I’m officially done with the day.”
“You got it.”
The same pop radio station I’d put on played softly in the background as we drove away from the restaurant. We’d made it a few blocks when three huge SUVs surrounded us, and Tommy slammed on the brakes. The only path was backward.
The windows of the SUV in front of us rolled down, and a masked man drew a massive fucking gun.
“Get down,” Tommy yelled.
“Who—”
“I said, get down.” He grabbed the back of my head and shoved my face to my lap, the seatbelt clicking with the sudden movement and digging painfully into my chest. He unclicked the buckle and pushed me to the floorboard, my legs and sides banging into the hard interior. I swallowed a yelp of pain, my hands flailing to grab hold of something. There was just the smooth leather seat and accents, the center console, and the door handle, which was attached to the door that was currently being shot at. No matter how bulletproof the car was, there was no way I’d touch it while it was being used as target practice.
There was barely enough room for me to fit below the windows, so I tucked my chin to my chest and covered my neck—the epitome of a worthless gesture. Should the door fail, my hands wouldn’t save my neck from the very real, very deadly bullets. Tommy threw open the glove box, and the hard plastic smacked me in the back of the head as he pulled out a gun and floored it in reverse. “Stay down.”
Gunfire sounded all around us, the bulletproof SUV rocking as it was hit from all sides. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from screaming. Tommy needed to focus, and I needed to keep my wits about me, but my body didn’t get the memo as it trembled and jerked with every new shot.
Tommy tossed a burner to me. “Call the first contact. Put it on speaker.”
My hands shook uncontrollably as I followed his direction.
“Yeah?” Marco’s gruff voice rang out, and it took everything in me to stay quiet and let Tommy handle it.
“Three black SUVs, six guys, no plates, firepower at the corner of Flora and 39th.”
“Got it. Head to Juniper’s.” And click.
“Hold on. I got you.” He whipped the car around, the back bumper crashing into something, but it didn’t stop us. Tommy let out a laugh and sped up.
The gunfire grew distant, and the SUV no longer shook, but I wasn’t about to look up.
Tommy made a few sharp turns, jumped a curb, and drove us into a garage. The doors closed behind us as he parked. “You can get up.”
I stayed curled in a ball, gripping the burner so hard the plastic creaked. After trying to unfold my body, I shook my head. “Not sure I can.”
“Shit.” Tommy got out of the driver’s seat and came around to my side.
When he opened the door, my tense body followed it.
Moving quickly, he caught me before I fell face first onto the concrete floor. “Easy there.”
“What just happened?” I pushed away from him, my ass landing on the floorboard as my legs hung out the door.
“We’re finding out. We need to hang out here until Marco gives us the all-clear. Then we’ll switch cars and get you home.”
“Okay.” I slid out of the SUV and avoided touching the exterior. There was no reason I needed to feel proof of every bullet meant to kill me. Tommy stayed close but let me wander the bays of the garage. Beautiful classic cars in various states of finish sat lined up with mechanics pretending to work on them, while casting sidelong glances at my ruined SUV.
“Tommy? What the hell?” A handsome man with sandy brown hair and piercing blue eyes stormed out of the office. His face flushed as he stared at our vehicle. “We’re not closed.”
“Marco will be here soon. He’ll explain.”
