Page 44 of Forced Arrangement

I stare at Franco’s text and shake my head. Did he expect anything else? Women who grew up together tended to be as close as sisters. I was glad that Sophia had Justine here with her, supporting her, but I’m also worried about her presence. Franco can’t keep an eye on them both all day long. He has other duties to take care of as well.

I dismiss these thoughts. I don’t have time to worry about anyone other than myself and my men right now. A small group of my most loyal men and I are driving into Guiseppe’s territory, on our way to a meeting with an inside man we planted months ago. We need to extract him now that Costa is on to us.

We drive into a shady part of the warehouse district, my heart feeling pinched in my chest. Guiseppe is capable of nearly anything and I hate being on his side of the fence. I don’t want to stay here for a moment longer than necessary.

We drive to the agreed-upon meeting location and park against the side of a warehouse that is barely still standing. I pull out my gun, letting it rest on my thigh as I look out the tinted window.

“No sign of him yet,” the man in the driver’s seat says quietly.

I don’t bother to answer. My nerves are strung tight, my heart pounding. I feel like something might go wrong, but I have no idea why. I have learned to trust my instincts, however, and when I have a bad feeling, I listen to it.

Suddenly, there’s commotion, the noise of vehicles and what sounds like a motorcycle. I sit up straighter in my seat, turning off the safety on my gun.

The motorcycle I thought I heard, tears around the corner and I see that my spy is clinging to the side of the tank awkwardly. He leaps from the bike, allowing it to slide along the asphalt and fetch up against the wall with a crash.

I whip the car door open and practically catch the man as he falls into my arms. There’s so much blood. I barely recognize the man as I drag him back toward the car. He’s trying to speak, but I can’t understand anything he’s saying. My stomach turns over as I realize why there’s so much blood and why I can’t understand a word he’s saying.

Costa cut his tongue out.

Two black SUVs whip around the corner and men boil out of them. They don’t ask questions before they start shooting. I take a moment to fire my gun at them, wanting only to distract them as I shove my man into the car and scramble in behind him.

“Go!” I shout, grappling with the open car door as my driver takes off. Bullets ring against the sides of the car as tires squeal. I lose a hold of the car door, and slide across the seat as we turn in a sharp circle. I manage to catch myself as I start to fall out of the car, but the door slams shut on my hand.

“Fuck!” I bellow, yanking my hand from the door. We turn and swerve around another corner, and the door shuts on its own, latching this time. I cradle my hand in my lap, feeling nauseous.

“You all right, boss?” the man in the passenger seat asks me.

I stifle another curse. “Yeah. Broke my hand,” I say. I look over at my informant. His eyes are wild in his face, but he’s still alive. For now.

“Call Doc,” I say to the man in the passenger seat. “Gianni needs him immediately.”

“Where to?” the driver asks me, swerving around another corner.

I look behind us and don’t see either of Guiseppe’s SUVs following us.

“Gianni can’t wait for help,” I say. “We need to go to my place. It’s close.”

“Boss, don’t you think that..” the man in the front seat says.

“You heard me,” I snap. I pull my phone out of my pocket and dial Franco’s number awkwardly with my good hand.

“Yep?” Franco says as he picks up the call.

“Nine-one-one,” I say to him, sucking a breath in between my clenched teeth as my hand throbs painfully. “We’re coming to you. Doc’s on his way.”

“How bad?” Franco asks, his voice hard.

“Very,” I say and disconnect the call.

I look over my shoulder. Still no tail. It doesn’t really surprise me. Guiseppe did this to send a message. He isn’t interested in chasing me across the city.

Thankfully, there isn’t much traffic and it only takes a few more minutes before we arrive at my building. The driver pulls into the underground garage and I leap out before the car even stops moving. Gianni is slumped against the door, and when I open the door, he spills limply into my arms.

“There’s so much blood,” I hear someone say.

“A little help here?” I snap, trying to balance Gianni with one hand.

“You dumb bastards! Don’t just stare. Help the boss out.”

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