Page 49 of The Marriage Debt

I didn't want it at first. In the beginning, this was all about the boy, but somewhere, it morphed into this strange mess of hormones and lust. As much as I want to deny it, she's growing on me. I can't get her out of my head. I'm not sure if it's the way she is so tender with her son or if it's how beautiful she is. Maybe it's just the sex, but deep down, something about her challenges me, keeps me on my toes. I like that. I've never met a woman who does that to me.

"Uh, Mateo?" Rafe's hand rests on the back of Giorgio's seat, gripping it firmly, and I lean to the side to peer out the front window as the car starts to slow.

A large blue panel van pulls into the lane of traffic far enough ahead of us to give plenty of warning, and my danger signals shoot off immediately.

"Get us out of here. Now!" I'm already reaching for Lev, pulling him down across the seat and folding myself over him as the first shots ring out. The first bullet spiderwebs the windshield, and I push Lev down before the second shot cracks the passenger-side window. None of the rounds make it through—not yet—but the force is enough to rattle my teeth. I throw my body over his, pressing him flat across the floorboards.

“Move!” I shout. “Go, go!”

Giorgio slams the gas, tires squealing as we rocket forward. The SUV jolts hard, fishtailing as it surges through the intersection. Rafe’s already turned in his seat, pistol drawn, his elbow braced against the shattered frame of the window.

“They're giving chase,” he growls. “Passenger side shooter—he’s steady.”

More shots ring out. They’re clean and tight. This isn’t a scare tactic—this is a hit. They don't like what I've done to their men. I should've known better than to bring Lev out in this.

Rafe fires back, controlled bursts. “Windshield’s too thick for clean shots. I need a better angle.”

“Hold until the turn!” I shout, keeping Lev’s head tucked against my ribs. “Giorgio, get us out of their line!”

Giorgio jerks the wheel, cutting left down a side street slick with rain. The tires barely hold the pavement. Trash bins blur past the windows. In the mirror, I catch a glimpse of the van as it barrels after us, closing the gap.

Another round punches through the back window—this time just the glass, thank God—but it showers the rear seats with shards. Lev doesn’t scream, just squeezes his eyes shut, face buried in my coat.

Good. Brave. I've seen grown men fall apart under less pressure, like that kid in the warehouse a few days ago. That's why this is happening. Must've been somebody's kid.

“We need distance,” Rafe snaps, reloading fast. “I can’t hit shit with us bouncing like this.”

“Giorgio,” I bark, “next right—freight road, cut behind the warehouse district.”

He doesn’t hesitate. Giorgio takes the turn hard, skidding us onto a back road lined with old storage units and loading docks. The van follows, tires howling behind us. We’re not shaking them.

Rafe braces, leans out the shattered side window, and fires again.

Pop. Pop. Pop.

I peek up just in time to see one of the van’s headlights burst. The driver jerks slightly, and the whole vehicle sways, scraping against a parked car but staying upright.

“Hit the brakes,” I tell Giorgio. “Hard. Now.”

He slams them.

The SUV drops speed fast—and the tires lay rubber on the pavement. The van overcorrects, swerving to avoid rear-ending us, and that’s all the opening Rafe needs. He takes aim and squeezes off two rounds.

The first misses.

The second punches through their side mirror, sending it flying.

“Go!” I shout, and Giorgio floors it again.

We rocket forward. Rafe ducks back in just as another burst of gunfire cracks against our rear quarter. The whole SUV shudders, but the armor holds. We break through the chain-link gate of a forgotten storage yard, dirt kicking up behind us in heavy, wet clumps. Giorgio barrels between rusted containers, weaving us through tight turns the van can’t follow cleanly.

I glance down. Lev’s eyes are wide but dry. His small hand clenches the front of my coat.

“You okay?” I ask. He nods, barely. “I’ve got you,” I whisper. “They’re not getting you. You hear me?”

Rafe leans back, breathing hard. “Think we lost ’em.” His eyes meet mine.

“They’ll double back or go dark. Doesn’t matter,” I say. “We’re not stopping.”

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