Page 4 of The Prizes We Win
By some miracle, my vision finally begins to clear. The two men in front of me are slouched forward, likely knocked unconscious from the accident, and when I look over, I don’t see her. She’s not here. And neither is John.
It takes my brain a moment to realize the door across from me is open, and as I look out of it, I find Josephine staring straight at me, her wrists still bound in front of her, with an arm wrapped around her neck and a gun pressed against her temple.
There’s a faint trail of blood dripping down her thumb from where the ziptie is cutting into her wrists and a decent-sized cut spilling blood down her cheek, one that’s spilling beads of scarlet down her perfect face. Yet, as she keeps her eyes locked on mine, the fearlessness in her stature does not waver.
She isn’t afraid of him.
My brave girl.
Suddenly, just as quickly as the fogginess in my vision clears, so does that of my mind, and I finally register the words that Dante is yelling.
“Put the fucking gun down, John, or I swear to god, I will blow your fucking head off!”
“No, you won’t. You won’t because I need her. Because if I see your finger move so much as a centimeter, I will shoot her in the head right now, and neither of us will make it off this street.”
I need to get out of this fucking car.
As if he could hear my very thoughts, Luca rips my door open.
“Mio Re,” he breathes out harshly, sounding both tormented over our current situation and enraged and out for blood. My eyes take him in to find him still dressed in his suit. No mask or piece of tactical gear in sight.
“Baby, everyone can see you. You’re—”
“I don’t give a damn about anything but getting the two of you out of here.” The two men in the front begin to stir, and Luca doesn’t hesitate. Grabbing his gun out of the waistband of his pants, he puts a single round through the back of each of their heads and puts the gun back where he grabbed it from. “Let’s get you out of here and get our girl.”
Quickly, he cuts the zip tie around my wrists with what I know to be Dante’s knife and pulls me out of the totaled SUV.
Once standing, I pause a moment to take in the entirety of the situation. Dante and Enzo have their guns firmly pointed at John’s head. Without taking his eyes off the target, Enzo lets go of his gun with one hand, pulls another from his waistband, and hands it to me.
Not hesitating even a second, I chamber a round, like I have a million times and raise my weapon.
Out of my periphery, I watch as Ronan, Mac, and Finn flank Joe and John, ensuring the target is covered from all angles.
Once my stare meets Joe’s steel-blue eyes, I find her still locked in on me. It’s then I realize she’s still waiting for my instructions. She’s waiting for me to tell herwhen.
“Dante,” I say just loud enough for him to hear me over the sound of the impending sirens and panicked screams of the pedestrians as they run down the street, all while taking pictures with their phones at the same time. “We’re still missing a piece of the puzzle, D. We need to know Andrei’s plan for Joe. If we kill John right now, he’ll just come up with a new one, and we’ll be five steps behind.Again.”
Dante’s jaw flexes, and his grip tightens around the handle of his gun, but he doesn’t move.
“He’s right, D,” Enzo agrees.
“We need to make our decision, guys,” Mac adds over the coms. “His backup will be coming over that bridge any minute.”
Maxim’s car was smart enough to not stop. The heir to the Bratva is not going to risk getting captured in broad daylight in the middle of New York City. But he’s also smart enough to have loads of other men ready and willing to take his place should he need it, and it’s only a matter of time before those tributes will make their way over the bridge.
Dante exhales sharply before biting out, “Fine.”
“I’ll grab him. He doesn’t know we’re back here,” Ronan says.
“No,” I answer abruptly. “Let her.”
“Mio Re, what—”
“She’s got it, Amico.” Because Enzo knows exactly what’s about to happen; he’s told me how skilled Joe is when it comes to kickboxing and self-defense, and I saw it with my own eyes the previous morning when I watched their sparring session from the gym doorway like a creep.
None of us lower our weapons, as I look Joe dead in the eye, and with a slight drop of the chin, I give her all the permission she needs.
John is busy yelling more profanities and demands that none of us are interested in listening to at this point. All of our eyes, including Ronan’s, Mac’s, and Finn’s, are locked on Josephine.
