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Gunfire popped all around me, pinging off vehicles as well as hitting the targets. After I launched myself at Joey, tossing us both to the ground, I twisted my body, firing off shots indiscriminately. In the split-second decision, I was responsible for putting several bullets between Stefano’s eyes.
There would be repercussions from my impetuous decision, a potential war brewing in the streets, but that didn’t matter to me.
No one fucked with my friends or family.
After targeting another one of Stefano’s soldiers, his agonizing cry followed by his drop to the ground, I fell back against the pavement, taking gulping breaths. Footsteps sounded all around us, customers clambering to find out what the hell was going on.
Then there was nothing but silence.
“Boss. Jesus fucking Christ!” Cayman snarled as he dropped to the ground beside me.
“What the hell happened here? Jesus. Call 9-1-1!”
I heard Dominick’s voice from behind me as well as the hard pounding of additional footsteps. Everything remained in slow motion as I tried to sit up, gasping for air as I dropped my head, staring at Joey.
And blood.
So much fucking blood.
“Joey,” I yelled, shaking him. “Joey! Jo-ey!”
CHAPTER 2
Christiana
“The world owes you nothing, my baby girl. You’re very special but you need to grasp onto your life with both hands never letting go. We’ll get through this.”
It was perhaps the last thing I remembered my mother telling me before she was gunned down in cold blood on my fifteenth birthday. It had been a festive event, the vivid memories of the party like indelible ink in my mind, staining the forefront of my brain just like visions of her lifeless eyes and the pool of blood under her broken body continued to do. I’d never found out what she’d meant, but her eyes had held a haunting vacancy as if she’d given up on life.
I hadn’t known it then, but I had a feeling it would be the best piece of advice I’d ever be given.
I’d been driven close to madness after she’d been taken, my mother my best friend. But I’d survived the horrific, paralyzing tragedy and the lonely task of going on without her. My father had been a shell of a man for months, ignoring his only child. I’d had a nanny taking care of my needs, something I hadn’t wanted at that age. Then he’d rallied around me, pretending as if everything was still normal even after our lives had been ripped apart.
And here the two of us sat in the back of a posh SUV, our soldiers driving the rental vehicle to an unknown designation on yet another birthday event. I’d been excited at first, the announcement of a surprise coming out of the blue. Now there was nothing but a sick, foreboding feeling, my mind playing tricks on me. Would this turn out to be just another tragic event?
My instinct was screaming my father was up to something and that his announcement was a ruse of some kind. Maybe I wasn’t being the good Catholic girl I’d been raised to be, but the intense gnawing inside my stomach refused to go away.
I leaned forward, wringing my hands.
“Turning eighteen is very special, Christiana,” my father said quietly, his usual vivacious tone devoid of any emotion.
He’d been somber since announcing our trip to New York, where I’d been excited, full of raw energy. I was no longer a child, now considered an adult and in celebration, my father was taking me on a trip of a lifetime to the Big Apple. I’d always wanted to go, but he’d refused up until now, reminding me a dozen times of the danger crawling in the darkened bowels of what he called the violent, ugly city.
One day I planned on living in the vile location, although I’d yet to tell my father. I had plans on attending Columbia University for my law degree. I was already attending community college, just finishing my second year. My father had been so proud I’d graduated from high school at sixteen, his raucous applause and deep shouts heard over every other parent. Now, another milestone. Yet my gut told me something was tragically wrong.
“You still haven’t told me where we’re going, Papa,” I said to him as I glanced out the side window. As usual, we had a driver, two of our soldiers making the trip on the private jet. We were never alone, my father always requiring security. I’d grown used to having men trail behind me like lap dogs over the years, ignoring their presence as I went about my typical daily routine. But today I wished I could be alone with my father.
We were all each other had. There were no siblings, no grandparents still alive. My mother’s unsolved murder remained a shadow in our lives that had never left, never ceased to cause pain. In the world of the mafia, danger was always present. At least that’s what he’d told me several times. As if that was an excuse for why justice hadn’t been served.
He’d been the one to protect and nurture me, keeping me safe while fulfilling my every wish. To say I was a princess was an understatement, but I understood the value of human life and money more than most. Maybe because I’d seen so many horrors, so much bloodshed over the years. I shoved the ugliness aside, still curious why we’d headed out of the Big Apple toward the suburbs.
For some reason, I’d thought he’d honored my wish of seeing a Broadway play, but my father was full of surprises, keeping me on my toes.
He was also a businessman, his world revolving around cash flow and keeping our enemies at bay. As of late, they seemed to be crushing down on top of us.
“You’ll learn soon enough,” he told me. “Just remember that this is an important day. For both of us.”
A slight shiver drifted down my spine. There was something odd about the way he stated the words, his entire body tense. I knew he’d been under a lot of pressure, various enemies breathing down his neck to the point he was having difficulty controlling his multiple businesses. However, I’d never seen him so anxious.
