Bratva Sinner (A Possessive Mafia Romance) - Page 35

“Oh, fuck,” I said, which is really all I had time for, since two seconds wasn’t very long. I hit the gas to try to get out of the way, but the SUV slammed into my rear end, spinning the car.

Cara screamed. Fortunately, we both had our seatbelts on. Safety first and all that. The car came to a halt facing the wrong way and I leapt over Cara, grabbing the gun from the glove compartment.

“What’s going on?” she asked, eyes wide with shock. “It’s just an accident, right?”

I kicked open the door just as two guys jumped out the back seat of the SUV. “I don’t think so,” I said as they raised their Uzi submachine guns in my direction.

I dove back inside the car and yanked Cara down. I pulled off her seatbelt and shoved her onto the floor. She screamed as the guns blared like tiny explosions going off all around. Sparks flew and something burst in my car’s engine. Steam drifted up and I cursed as the guys came closer and closer.

If I didn’t do something, they’d be on me in a second. We were fucked just sitting there in the car, but the engine was screwed, and they kept firing.

I had to do something desperate. I dove from the car and hit the ground on my shoulder, skidding on my side. It hurt like fucking hell and would leave a nasty road rash, but that didn’t matter—I squeezed off three rounds, hitting one of the guys clean in the chest. He dropped and I rolled to the side as more gunfire broke out. I managed to reach the parked cars to my right and scrambled between them as bullets smashed all around me.

More shouts from the SUV. I came up firing and managed to wing the Uzi guy. He shouted in pain, clutching at his injured arm, and dropped back into cover. A third guy left the SUV, stepping out from the driver’s side, and I put a bullet in his skull for his effort. He dropped with a groan, blood splattered on the pavement.

I ran back to my car and grabbed Cara. “We have to run.”

Her face was pale with fear and she trembled, but she crawled across the center console and stumbled to her feet. Uzi guy came up again firing, but he was wild and inaccurate with only one hand. I shot at him and missed as we sprinted away. More bullets slammed all around us, missing by inches, and I shoved Cara in front of me, hoping to block any stray shots that might catch her.

We got lucky though. She turned the corner and I was on her heels. Pedestrians stared in pure shock as I shoved the gun away and grabbed Cara’s hand.

“This way,” I grunted, pulling her along. I got my bearings and headed toward University City, slowing down to a jog, then to a walk after a few blocks. I was drenched with sweat and Cara gasped for breath.

“What the hell was that?” she managed to ask.

“Ambush,” I said through gritted teeth.

“Who were they, though?”

I shook my head.

I didn’t know, but I had some guesses. Lionettis probably, maybe Maher’s guys, or possibly some other crew the Lionettis decided to send my way.

It was hard to say. That firefight was a blur of action. I got lucky back there—if those guys had been a better shot, or if they reacted faster, I would’ve gotten filled with bullets.

“Come on, I have a safe house near here.”

“You do?” She clutched my hand. “Are you sure we’re safe?”

“Definitely,” I said, which was a lie, but I couldn’t have her freaking out.

The problem was nobody should’ve known how to catch me. I took an odd way in and out of the city, purposefully going off the beaten path to avoid being followed or intercepted. And yet exactly that had happened.

I didn’t have a leak—I hadn’t told any of the guys in the crew where we were going. And even if I did, I trusted them all with my life.

Which meant I was being followed from the very beginning.

The safe house was right off UPenn’s campus, a tight little apartment above a hoagie shop filled with hungover college kids. It was hot and I cranked up the window AC. Cool air blasted over the grungy yellow couch, teal chair, and cheap IKEA TV stand.

“I’ll call German and let him know what’s going on. He’ll come and get us.” I checked the blinds—nobody waited outside, noting suspicious down there. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Just tired from running.” She stood in front of the AC unit, fanning herself.

“Don’t move. I’ll handle this.” I went into the other room to make some calls, but my stomach was a twisted knot.

I knew what sort of danger I was in, but this felt like something I hadn’t anticipated. If someone managed to follow me, that meant I was dealing with some talent. I could handle the typical low-level thugs the Lionettis liked to employ, but if they stepped up their game then I was going to have to be extra careful.

Tags: B.B. Hamel Crime
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