Page 100 of Promise Maker

My hand trembles even more with the gun.

Jesus. If Domenico doesn’t stop those men, arethey going to kidnap me?

Tears flow at the thought of what they’d do. Avoice in my head screams rape and human trafficking.

I cringe and bite my lip as someone kicks in thebedroom door.

“Solari?” a deep Italian male voicetaunts. “You can’t hide from me.”

I whimper, hearing him outside the closet door.

He jerks the latch, saying, “I won’t hurt you.”

I’m sure that’s a fucking lie.

I ready the gun.

The door bursts open, and he enters. Black hairpulled into a ponytail, thick mustache, and sinister cerulean eyes. Everythingabout his demeanor screams vicious.

“LucaFattore,” he sayscockily.

I warn, “Stay away, or I’ll shoot!”

The asshole chuckles. “You’re not a killer,Solari.”

“I mean it! Don’t come any closer.”

Putting his hands up, Luca inches towards me andurges teasingly, “Go ahead. Let’s see what Bishop’s daughter has in her.”

I squeezethetrigger over and over, but it doesn’t fire. “Oh god!”

He dashes forward and writhes the gun from myhand. “Safety’s still on, little girl.”

I scream as he clutches my throat and yanks me tomy feet. “Let me go! Domenico!”

“My cousin isn’t coming,” he mocks, dragging mefrom the closet. “He’sdead.”

It feels as if he’s yanked my heart from my chest.

“No…” I thrash against him, screaming, “Domenico!Let me go! No!”

Two men grasp my arms in the passage, grips sotight as they haul me from the house.

No matter how I struggle, they don’t budge.

They’re taking me.

I might die tonight with Domenico.

They killed him.

The man I love is dead.

“No!” I cry, glimpsing all the bloody bodies inthe grass. But I don’t see Domenico.

I turn erratic at the burnt remains from theblast.

My god. What if that’s what killed him? What ifthe bastards blew his body to pieces?

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