Page 13 of Relentless Refuge

I start to turn and go, following Victor and Darnel who have already headed toward the SUV, and he says, “Alright, but next time, you need to make sure you don’t tip them off as to where we’re meeting.”

I ignore his comments and wonder if it wasn’t him who tipped them off, but I know one thing is for sure. We have to increase security around Isabella. I think even her uncle would agree to that. I won’t let her be in the line of fire again. I don’t care what she thinks.

10

ISABELLA

The clip holding my target slides up the line drawing closer to me, and the closer it gets, the easier I can see the clear pattern on the image. After the close call at the airport with the supplier and Marco’s men, I decided to brush up on my target practice. Father used to bring me here a few times a week for fun. Mother hated it. She still does. She thinks weapons are a man’s tool, but as the leader of my Family, I need to know how to handle myself.

I feel like I’m leading a revolution, and the revolution is only as strong as its leader, so I pluck the target off the clip and hold it up so I can see it. All of my shots hit center mass, and had this been an intruder or attacker, I’d be safe. I smile at my good aim and lay the target to a side, then pick a new target off the pad hanging on the wall of this stall and clip it in place. I’d like to unload a few more rounds before I leave.

I push the button setting the pulley to action, and the target whooshes off toward the far wall. Then I eject my clip and lay my gun to the side. I have to reload, and later tonight, I need to disassemble my weapon and clean it. It’s one thing I’ve learnedin the past few weeks of being married to Marco. He cleans his gun every night—says it ensures a consistent, accurate shot. I never knew Father and Lucco did this after their practice sessions, or at all, for that matter.

As I push more rounds into my clip, I hear noise in the gun range. Someone is talking, and their voice is familiar to me but I can’t exactly place it. This club, a little five-stall, indoor shooting range south of Central Park, is where my Family goes to blow off steam and get their practice. It’s not Family owned, but one of my uncles works here, so I’m not surprised when two of my cousins walk past my stall and stop to say hello.

“Well if it isn’t our fearless leader.” Chase’s stupid smirk is enough to irritate me, but I say nothing. I keep pushing rounds into my clip. These two clowns have always been irritating to me at times, but Family is Family.

“Hey, Bella, I saw your husband had to shove you in his limo to protect you. You sure you’re ready to be the big boss lady?” Owen plays right into Chase’s sarcastic greeting and my chest tightens. These two are opposed to this arrangement between me and Marco, and they’ve made it pretty clear to other people in the Family. They haven’t outright said it to me, though.

I’ve heard their rumors and I’ve been told by Nicolo about the bit of a stir they’re causing. They think they can muscle their way into power, scare me out of my decision to take the helm. I’m watching them, but I’m not stupid nor naive.

“I believe you’re mistaken.” I eye them and feel my body tensing the longer they stand at my stall talking. I’m not supposed to be afraid of them, but part of me is. I don’t think they would ever physically harm me, given the fact that there are cameras on every angle of this place. But I wouldn’t put it past them to hatcha plot to prove me unfit to lead, thereby putting one of them in this position of leader. Especially because both of them are older than me by a few years.

“Well, I hear you were a flop, anyway.” Owen leans on the wall of my stall and crosses his arms over his chest. His gray T-shirt stretches over his thick muscles, reminding me that if he wanted to, he could easily disarm me and physically restrain me. We grew up together, though, played in my father’s house and theirs. Lucco wouldn’t tolerate their obstinance, so neither can I.

“You’re in our world now, honey, and you are just not cut out for it. You should just go back home and pick up where you left off. Sew some curtains. Bake some cookies. Let us do the leading.” Chase hovers menacingly at the end of the stall, blocking any path I have out of this place if I feel threatened, and I take a step backward as I put the last few rounds into my clip.

“You two need to back off. Nicky won’t stand for this.” I know the man they want me to marry, the one they think my father picked out for me. He’s not the type to follow my father’s instructions or honor his legacy. And he’s not the sort of man I’d ever marry. More than twice my age, with two dead wives already, the man is just not fit to be anyone’s husband.

“Nicky’s not my uncle, babe.” Owen pushes off the wall and looks down his nose at me. “We think you need to step down. Your father didn’t put you in charge. There’s a lot of us who aren’t real happy about this. We’ve humored you enough, don’t you think? Women don’t lead organizations like this.” His nostrils flare as he glares at me, and I start to think maybe I’m wrong. Maybe they will just shoot me dead and make it look like an accident. After all, that’s what Families like mine do. They take the trash out and clean it up silently so no one knows. And with my uncle—their father—working here, I wouldn’t put it past them to even erase the camera footage.

“Back off, Owen.” I click the last round into place and think about the weapon lying on the shelf behind me where I placed it. I can’t afford to be intimidated by them and feel paralyzed. I have to be strong in the face of this sort of aggression or I really am unfit for leadership.

“Or what?” Chase asks, moving closer to me, and without even thinking, I whip around and grab my gun. The steel feels suddenly heavier in my hand as I manage it.

My clip slides in and clicks into place, and I chamber a round before either of them can touch me, and when I spin back around with my gun raised, Owen takes a step back—stopping his momentum toward me with his hands up. His eyebrows are high in surprise. He’s startled that I can move so quickly, shocked that my father taught me so well.

“Whoa, easy, Bella. We were having fun.” Chase shakes his head and scoffs, but his brother has the right idea.

Owen says, “Look, we’re sorry. We want what’s best for the Family.” I can see in his expression that he’s instantly regretting the comments he made and apologetic. Chase doesn’t look so apologetic. He looks sardonic, as if his plan was thwarted and he’s trying to figure out what to do next to make sure he gets his point across.

“Is that so?” I ask, taking a step forward. “What if what’s best for the family is for me to put a bullet in your brain?” I feel a bit bolder with the gun loaded and aimed at him. They are defenseless right now.

Both of them stare at me for a moment, but only one of them seems afraid. Chase rolls his eyes and gestures at his brother. “Come on, Owen. Let’s get out of here. We’ll deal with this another way.” He pinches Owen’s shirt and pulls on it as he walks away, and Owen backs away from me with wide eyes for several steps. Even as he turns to go, he still glances over his shoulder several times.

I stand there sternly pointing my gun until I hear the door of the range click shut, and then I start to shake. I shake so much I have to put my gun down for fear of accidentally firing it. Then I slide down the wall and hug my arms over my chest. I don’t cry. I find I can’t cry. I’m too afraid. They were actually going to harm me over this whole thing.

I knew there would be dissent. I knew not everyone would agree with a female in charge. But I never thought for a second that anyone would seriously threaten me. And after the close call last week, Marco insisted on putting men around me, but I had refused. Now I wish I had said yes.

My fumbling hands pry my phone out of the pocket of my jeans, and I immediately dial Uncle Nicky’s number, not wanting Marco to think I’m weak. But when Nicky doesn’t answer the phone, I call my mother instead. She picks up on the second ring.

“Hello, dear.” Mom’s voice is instantly comforting, and I feel tears welling up. It’s like her strength and who she is to me allows me to feel weak and vulnerable. I’m rattled to my core, and I can barely put words together.

“Mom,” I say, blinking those tears back. My voice shakes, and she must hear it.

“What is it, Bella? What’s wrong?” There is fear in her voice too.

“Mom, Owen and Chase just walked in here. I think they were threatening me. I had to pull my gun on them. Mom, I’m scared.” I think of the gun lying on the shelf overhead and wonder if I should be holding it instead of leaving it lying.

---