Chapter 7 - THE CRASH AND THE CREST
"Nothing personal, sweetheart," Marco grunted, his finger tightening on the trigger.
Adrenaline, pure and blinding, flooded my veins.
I didn't scream.
I didn't beg.
I moved faster than I ever thought possible.
I threw myself flat across the leather backseat just as the silenced pistol let out a sharp pfft.
The bullet shattered the rear passenger window, raining safety glass down on my wedding gown.
Marco cursed, struggling to aim the gun downward while keeping the speeding car steady on the highway overpass.
I didn't wait for his second shot.
I reached down to my garter, my fingers closing around the cold, heavy silver of the Falcone money clip.
I lunged upward.
I didn't aim for the gun.
I aimed for his arm.
I drove the solid, weighted edge of the silver clip directly into the fragile bones of Marco's right wrist with every ounce of strength I possessed.
A sickening crack echoed in the cabin.
Marco screamed, a sound of pure agony.
The pistol dropped from his shattered wrist, tumbling onto the floorboards.
In his pain, Marco's left hand jerked the steering wheel violently.
The heavy black sedan swerved across three lanes of traffic.
Horns blared. Tires screeched.
I threw my arms over my head as the world spun wildly out of control.
The sedan slammed head-on into the concrete barrier of the overpass.
The impact was deafening.
Airbags deployed with a violent explosion of white powder.
Metal crumpled. Glass rained like diamonds.
Then, total silence.
My ears were ringing continuously.
I blinked against the white powder, coughing.
The heavy lace veil had been torn completely off my head.
I looked toward the front seat.
Marco was slumped over the deployed steering wheel airbag, unconscious, blood dripping from a cut on his forehead.
I was alive.
The seatbelt had saved me, but my bruised shoulder was screaming in agony.
I unbuckled myself with shaking hands and pushed against the rear door.
It was jammed against the concrete barrier.
Panic seized my chest.
I kicked the shattered remains of the window and scrambled out, dragging the heavy, ruined white silk of the wedding dress over the jagged glass.
I fell onto the hot asphalt of the highway.
My knees scraped against the pavement, staining the dress with blood and dirt.
I stood up, dizzy and disoriented.
Traffic had stopped completely behind the wreck.
But weaving through the stopped cars were three black SUVs, their sirens blaring.
They skidded to a halt directly in front of the wrecked sedan.
The doors flew open.
Heavily armed men in suits poured out, securing the perimeter instantly.
From the lead SUV stepped Luca.
He didn't look at the crashed car. He didn't look at his men.
His eyes locked onto me.
He broke into a run, his tailored tuxedo jacket flying open.
He reached me just as my legs finally gave out.
He caught me in his arms before I hit the ground.
"Emma," Luca breathed, his voice rough and terrified.
He pulled me tight against his chest, burying his face in my hair.
"I've got you. You're safe. I've got you."
I clung to his lapels, burying my face against his Kevlar vest, sobbing uncontrollably.
"He tried to shoot me," I cried. "Falcone called. He told him to kill Vanessa."
Luca's grip tightened protectively.
He looked over my shoulder at the unconscious driver.
"Daniel," Luca commanded over the chaos. "Extract him. I want to know exactly where Falcone is hiding with the boy."
Daniel pulled Marco from the wreckage, zip-tying his uninjured wrist to his belt.
"Boss," Daniel yelled. "He's carrying a burner. He just got a text from Falcone. Address is the old shipyard on Pier 4."
Luca looked down at me.
He took off his tuxedo jacket and draped it over my shivering shoulders, covering the torn, bloody silk of the wedding dress.
"Take her back to the estate," Luca ordered Daniel. "Lock down the gates."
"No," I said, grabbing Luca's arm.
He looked at me, surprised.
"My mother is safe," I said, my voice finding a sudden, fierce strength. "But Vanessa's little boy is still with them. They're going to kill him, Luca."
Luca stared at me.
Even covered in dirt, blood, and a ruined dress, he looked at me not as a housekeeper, but as an equal.
"Take her to the secondary SUV," Luca ordered. "She stays behind the armored glass."
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He pulled his sidearm, checking the chamber.
"Let's go end this."
