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“I had an interesting chat with one of your men,” Salvatore continues. “I wasn’t aware you had a gambling problem, Patrick. Do your people know you’re spending the organization’s money like water?”
Patrick’s head turns rapidly back to Salvatore, and he backhands him. “Shut the fuck up!”
Salvatore spits blood on the floor, then looks up. “Two million is a lot of money to lose, Patrick.”
I gulp, and tears stream from my eyes as I realize what he’s doing. Damn you, Salvatore. He is trying to make Patrick focus on him instead of me.
“I planned on toying with you for a while before killing you,” Patrick says. “But perhaps I’ve changed my mind.”
As he reaches inside his jacket, the sound of gunfire erupts outside. The sliding doors open, and men with guns rush inside, shooting with accuracy at the Irish. I recognize Carmelo and Aldo among them. The windows on the other side of the warehouse shatter under the gunfire, and the Irish mob suddenly slides into disarray, running this way and that, seemingly unprepared for any such intrusion. My captor vanishes from view, his bald head moving toward the open doors, gun in hand. I turn to Salvatore, who’s still tied to the chair, directly in the crossfire, and run toward him.
“What are you doing! Get down!” he shouts as I reach him. I ignore his yelling and go around to the back of the chair. My hands are tied at the front, so I should be able to release him, but when I reach for his wrists, cold panic rises inside me. They didn’t use rope the way they did with me. Both of Salvatore’s hands are handcuffed to the back of the chair. A metal chair. Bolted to the floor.
“Milene! Get the fuck down!”
From all around us comes the sound of shouting and gunfire, but it appears most of the gunfire is taking place around the doors. I take a deep breath, move around to face Salvatore, and hook my tied hands around his neck. I climb onto his lap, straddling him, my back toward the doors and the shots being fired around us.
“Milene! What the fuck?! Get down!” he snarls, shaking his body, trying to throw me off, but I plaster my chest to him and squeeze my arms around his head, pressing it to my chest.
“Damn it, Milene, I’m going to fucking kill you! Get off me and lie on the floor!” he yells at the top of his lungs. “Right now!”
“You’re a damn magnet for bullets, Salvatore.” I kiss his hair and tighten my grip. “And I’m pretty sure you’ve already used up your nine lives, so you’re not getting shot again today.”
His chest rises and falls. Several bullets whizz somewhere close to my head and hit the table further back in the room, sending it toppling to the concrete floor. Salvatore’s body starts to shake in my embrace.
“Vita mia,” he whispers. “Please. Get down.”
Another bullet ricochets off the floor to our right, and I press myself more tightly to him. His body is shaking as though he has a fever. “I love you, Tore,” I say into his ear.
“Milene.” His eyes are red. “I’m going to bite you. With all my strength.” The gunfire still rages, but I hear now how his voice trembles. “It’s going to hurt, Milene. Very much. Get. Off. Me.”
I smile. “Be my guest. I’m not moving.”
Bullets hit something over our heads and part of the metal construction comes crashing down behind us, sending dust and shards of debris into the air. Salvatore’s breathing becomes erratic, his chest rising and falling at a maddening speed. As I watch, a tear rolls down his cheek.
“Please,” he whispers.
“No,” I say, and squeeze my arms around him, tucking his head into the crook of my neck. He thrashes around again, and I barely manage to keep myself from falling off his lap.
More yelling and gunshots reach my ears, the sounds lasting a couple of seconds more before the action quiets. Soon after, only voices and rapid footfalls can be heard. Nino jumps down to the warehouse floor through a large broken window at the back and runs toward us, with Pasquale and another man following. As I watch them over Salvatore’s head, Nino and Pasquale stop abruptly and raise their guns in our direction. My eyes widen because, for an instant, I think they might actually shoot at us. Before they’re able to pull the triggers, a gunshot explodes somewhere behind me, and pain erupts in my arm.
I stifle a scream and almost faint on the spot as I stare at the big red hole in my arm oozing blood. It’s different to see a wound on my own body, and no amount of experience could have prepared me for it.
“Nino!” Salvatore yells, staring at my arm and the bloodpouring from the wound. He’s breathing hard, and when he looks up at me, there’s a crazed look in his eyes.
Nino comes running, presses a bundle of material that looks like someone’s shirt onto my arm, and I scream.
“To a hospital,” Salvatore barks. “Now, Nino!”
“What about you, Boss?” Nino asks as he gathers me up in his arms.
“If you don’t get my wife to a hospital in under five minutes, Nino, I will fucking end you! Carmelo, go with them and take Pasquale. Fucking now!” he shouts.
Nino nods and carries me out, running toward an SUV parked outside.
It takes forty minutes for Stefano to find the keys to the handcuffs and release me. Forty fucking minutes of me sitting there while Milene loses blood. Shot. Because of me.
A sound of a phone ringing comes from my left.
