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Smithy shifted in his seat, glancing backward, no doubt regretting the moment he’d offered to let me drive.
“They’re about to bump into us. No, cancel that—crash into us. Hard.”
“What do I do?”
“Take a left. Now.”
“What?”
“Now, Francesca.”
Without thinking, I took a sharp left, heading out of the busy neighborhood we’d been driving in and galloping west. The road was clearer, and I could gain more speed, though I was still scared to push the gas pedal all the way down.
I understood what Smithy tried to do. He was hoping to lose them. But he didn’t know these men chased people for a living.
“Get on the highway,” he shouted.
“Smithy!” I yelped at the same time he took his phone out of his pocket and wiped his forehead.
“Focus, Francesca.”
“Okay. Okay.”
I took another sharp turn, rolling onto the highway and checking my rearview mirror every few seconds to see if I was creating a gap between the two vehicles.
My heart was bursting with fear. My entire body pricked with goosebumps.
What were they doing?
Why were they after me?
But the reason was crystal clear to me. I’d shamed their family by getting engaged to Wolfe when I was supposed to get married to Angelo.
On top of this, my husband just put Angelo in jail for a night or two over his affiliation with The Outfit (and with Mike Bandini’s accounting firm, which, I assumed, was now under investigation by the IRS).
The sound of metal scratching metal deafened my ears, and the Cadillac lurched forward as they hit us from behind. Heat rose from the doors, and the scent of burnt rubber leaked into my nostrils.
“Foot on the accelerator, sweetheart. Put some distance between us,” Smithy screamed, spit flying out of his mouth as he scrolled through his phone with shaky fingers.
“I’m trying.”
I gripped the wheel harder, hyperventilating. My chest rattled, and my hands shook so bad I felt the car zigzagging between the lanes.
The road was relatively clear, but cars were honking and sliding to the shoulder of the road as I tried to lose Bandini’s soldiers.
“What is it?” Wolfe’s voice boomed inside the car. Smithy connected him to the Bluetooth.
I let out a sharp exhale. It was good to hear his voice. Even though he wasn’t there, I immediately felt a bit more in control.
“We’re being chased,” Smithy said.
“By who?”
My relief was immediately replaced with dread. Maybe he would be happy to get rid of me. He’d achieve the same level of revenge over my father without having to endure my presence.
“I don’t know,” Smithy said.
“Bandini’s soldiers,” I shouted over the car’s noise.
