Page 102 of His Passerotta

A gun cocks, and I freeze.

“You pull that trigger and we go to war,” I hear Settimo say. “Stand down, Nikita.”

I slowly turn, a lump forming in my throat as I stare down the barrel of Nikita’s gun. I’m not his target, though. He’s aiming at Corey, just over my shoulder. When I try to step in front, Corey shoves me out of the way, and I’m too afraid of setting the mobster off to protest.

The man scoffs. “It’s you who minds war, Settimo.” He stares at Corey with so much hatred, I shiver.

“I swear to God, if you don’t put that gun down, I’ll blow your fucking head off,” Anthony sneers next, although he’s being held back by Lorenzo, no gun in sight.

Nikita laughs dryly.

“Cut the drama,” Settimo says. “You’re not going to shoot one of ours when we can take out all of you. You’re down too many men.”

“If you want to claim the girl, fine. But it doesn’t look like he’s one of yours,” Nikita says.

It’s a bluff.

It must be a bluff.

They wouldn’t be as calm as they seem if it wasn’t.

He’s just angry.

Please just be angry.

The large, muscular back of a man blocks my view of Nikita, shielding me from the gun. I step back into Corey, away from the man, and when I see his blond hair and the bandage wrapped around his arm, my heart stops.

Maksim.

“You too, huh?” Nikita asks without nearly as much derision as he spoke to the others with.

“A life for a life,” Maksim says, unmoving.

Several seconds pass while my lungs burn for oxygen.

I don’t see him when he lowers the gun, but I feel the tension in the air unwind, and I watch Nikita as he storms off. Maksim turns, exchanging a look with me that says, ‘we’re even.’ “He leaves Vegas.” Maksim points at Corey before staring down Anthony. “Anyone have a problem with that?”

When silence ensues, it’s decided. It was always going to be that way.

Corey tugs on my arm to get me to move, and I reluctantly start that way, longingly looking at Anthony one last time before facing forward and following Corey to my car.

My eyes sting as I dig the keys from my pocket and go to open the door, but Corey stops me.

My lips purse as we lock eyes. When he holds out his hand, I just stare at it.

“I love you, B,” he says, his voice soft. “I want you to be happy.”

My gaze lifts to his face, and I take in the pain swirling in his irises.

“This is the hell I’ve created,” he says. “I’m not dragging you down with me.”

“Corey…”

“Thank you.” He steps close to me and cups the back of my neck. “Thank you for giving me another chance… Thank Anthony for me too.”

I open my mouth to speak, to argue why he’s wrong, why we should leave together, but the more it settles in my mind, the more I know if I said anything, it’d be a lie.

I don’t want to run. I don’t want to spend my life dodging criminals and looking over my shoulder. More than ever, I crave safety. And more than ever, I know what that is. And where I want to be.

---