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Pull the trigger, my brain screams at me again.
My heart balks at the idea.
However, before I can come to a decision, another second ticks by.
And three red dots appear on my chest.
I stiffen.
Keeping the gun steady, I flick a glance down at my chest just long enough to confirm that all of the dots are aimed straight at my heart. Then I sweep my gaze across the trees around the clearing, trying to spot where the fucking Hunter brothers must be hiding with their sniper rifles.
There is no sign of them.
“If you shoot me, I will shoot him,” I yell at the silent trees.
“No, you won’t,” Rico replies.
I snap my gaze back to him, keeping the gun leveled firmly on his forehead. “If you think I have any sort of conscience or any feelings for you whatsoever, you are entirely mistaken. If they make a move on me, Iwillfucking shoot you in the head.”
“No, you won’t,” he repeats. While holding my gaze, he slowly reaches into his pocket and slides out a loaded magazine. “Because there are no bullets in that gun.”
Cold dread explodes inside me.
I suck in a few shallow breaths, trying to keep my suddenly mounting panic under control.
“Do not move,” I warn.
He just spreads his hands in a nonchalant gesture.
While still keeping the gun aimed at him, I quickly eject the magazine.
One look confirms that he was telling the truth. It’s not loaded. He must have known that he might be outmatched against me and taken precautions. Must have used the empty gun as bait so that I would focus on getting it instead of trying to knock him out. And it worked.
Fuck.
With panic clanging inside my skull, I carefully lower the gun and spread my arms while keeping one eye on the three red dots still aimed at my heart.
Rico starts towards me. I half hope that he will walk right up to me so that he will be blocking the sniper rifles for a few seconds, but of course he’s too smart for that. He approaches at an angle and then plucks the gun from my hand.
With expert movements, he quickly swaps the empty magazine for the full one he had in his pocket.
Two of the three red dots start moving to each side.
Remaining perfectly still, I watch the dots move upwards and to the sides until I can no longer see them. It’s impossible to tell, but I assume that they are now either trained on my temples or the back of my head.
That distinct clicking sound drifts through the warm afternoon air as Rico finishes loading his gun. The ominous sound seems to echo across the forest.
His eyes are the hardest and most merciless I have ever seen as he raises the gun and levels it at my head.
“On your knees,” he commands.
I remain where I am, staring back at him.
He takes a step forward and presses the cold barrel directly against my forehead. And when he speaks, when he presses out a single word between clenched teeth, the sheer power in that word vibrates through my bones.
“Kneel.”
This man before me is no longer Rico the unexpectedly kind guy who bought me waffles. This isn’t even Rico the bully. No. The man standing before me now is Enrico Morelli, the heir to the most dangerous mafia family in the state.
