Nothing was better to drive bodyguards away than an embarrassing fight between love birds. Her bodyguards pretended not to pay attention to the fight, obviously embarrassed by the scene. Well-trained dogs, all of them. I slid my silver knuckleduster on in case Marcella’s fiancé put up more of a fight than he looked.
“Closer,” I said to Gunnar who steered the car toward Marcella.
She looked furious. Cheeks flushed, looking absolutely striking against her porcelain skin.
“Fucking Snow White,” I muttered. The Marcella from my dreams had a remarkable similarity to the angry Marcella of the present, only that her flushed cheeks had a very different reason then.
Gunnar gave me a curious look but I ignored him. Marcella shoved her fiancé’s shoulder and turned on her heel, so her hair hit him smack in the face. After a gob-smacked expression, he grabbed her arm and her bodyguards were all eyes now. We only had one chance. Soon they’d be swarming around the princess again and we’d have no chance to get near her. I shoved the door open before Gunnar had come to a stop and jumped out of the car. I stormed toward Marcella with complete tunnel vision. Her eyes hit me and her face transformed from confusion to realization then shock. Those plump lips parted for a cry. Her bodyguards began running, pulling their guns.
Gunnar jumped out of the car, raised his pump gun and fired. The sound transformed the peaceful campus into a hellhole. Screams sounded and people scattered, running for their lives.
Their panic was to our advantage. They stumbled into Marcella’s bodyguards who tried to reach us, slowing them down. I reached Marcella and her fiancé. He grabbed his gun, but I was faster and slammed my fist with the knuckleduster into his face. Blood shot out of his nose and mouth and he toppled to the ground. I didn’t have time to off him, not with all hell breaking loose. It was only a matter of minutes before dozens of Famiglia soldiers would enter the scene to protect their princess. I knew what would happen if they got their hands on me. They’d deliver me to Vitiello and what he’d done to my father would look like kid’s play in comparison to what he’d do to me for attacking his precious offspring. Not going to happen.
Nothing mattered as I finally grabbed Marcella’s arm and jerked her toward me. Her wide, shocked blue eyes hit me like a sledgehammer. Her eyes locked on mine, not afraid, only surprised. The blue of her irises were accentuated by a darker outer ring. The momentum had thrust her against my chest. A cloud of her exotic perfume, something subtly sweet but also spicy, hit me. She was even shorter than I’d thought. Even with high heels, she only reached my nose. Before she could react, I pressed the chloroform-drenched tissue over her mouth. Her eyelids drooped and she sagged against me. I hoisted her over my shoulder and ran toward the van. Gunnar was still firing at the bodyguards who didn’t have a choice but to seek cover, even if their fear of Vitiello’s wrath made them reckless. I put Marcella down on the loading area of the van before I closed the door and slid into the passenger seat. After a signal from me, Gunnar jumped in and hit the gas.
“I got one of them.”
He held out the pump gun and I took it in case I’d have to deal with pursuers. Soon the campus disappeared in the distance and Gunnar steered the car into a parking garage where we switched cars for the first time. The new van with the laundry logo belonged to a family member of one of the old ladies. I doubted Earl had told them what we’d use it for. He didn’t care if Vitiello got their hands on them, as long as our plan worked out. Unimportant collateral damage.
Marcella didn’t stir when I carried her from one car to the other.
After thirty more minutes, when I was fairly sure that we weren’t being followed, I set the pump gun down onto the floorboard. Snow White was slowly coming to, groaning and moaning in a way that reminded me of last night’s dream. I twisted around in the seat to watch her. The dose I’d hit her with hadn’t been very potent. Her black lashes fluttered against her pale skin. I’d been almost one-hundred percent sure that her photos had been photoshopped heavily, but now from close up, I realized Marcella Vitiello was every bit as immaculately gorgeous as her Instagram and press photos had suggested. I had to resist the urge to move even closer, to touch her and find out if her skin felt as smooth as it looked. The short moment I’d grabbed her had been over in a flash and I hadn’t had time to pay attention.