Page 37 of Dangerous King
My heart is hammering inside my chest. I thought I had gotten used to the literalSword of Damocleshanging over my head while living at the Giordano's house, but obviously, I haven't. Either that, or running for my life twice in the span of twenty-four hours has thrown me for a loop. Strangely, it's not so much myself I'm worried about. There was an explosion! And Enrico was right there.
There were others, too. The sales lady. Oh God, the sales lady. I saw the blood spreading out from her forehead as she hit the ground. Were others killed too? Innocent people only doing their jobs or wanting to pick something up?
"Shit," Manollo's curse brings me back to the reality that we're not out of the woods yet.
"More?" The other bodyguard asks.
"You two, stay right here," Manollo orders Izzy and me through clenched teeth. He doesn't like the idea of leaving us behind. "We'll go get the truck."
Sirens blare in the distance, and Manollo curses again. He glares one more time at Izzy and me. "No more stunts." He demands of Izzy.
I don't think Izzy has any more stunts in her. Her face is ashen and pale, her pupils are dilated, and she's shaking like a leaf. I put my arms around her.
"We'll be right here," I promise Manollo.
"Do you know how to handle this?" He pulls out a gun hidden under his pant legs.
"I have an idea." I take the gun with shaking hands. "Point and pull, right?" The Giordano's house was filled with guns, and in a rare moment of… whatever it was, probably not kindness, Camilla actually showed me how to use one.
"Just like that," he nods.
He throws one more concerned look at Izzy, handing her a gun too, before he orders the other bodyguard, "Let's go."
I watch him leave, blood dripping down his arm, soaking his jacket, without any idea how he's even still on his feet, let alone running and shooting. When he turns a corner, I lose sight of him. I don't dare to peek around it to watch their progress. I just stay where I am, pulling Izzy closer to me while mumbling stuttering promises I have no way of keeping, but as long as it comforts her, then somehow, it's comforting to me, too.
The sirens grow louder.
The sound should be reassuring, but it's not. The last thing any of us needs is to be taken in for questioning. Not Izzy and me personally, but they will connect the dots between her and her brother. I'm not a full-fledged mafia member, far from it, butover the past fourteen years, I've heard and seen enough to know that being seen by the cops isnotin our best interest.
It seems like an eternity before I hear the rumble of a motor approaching. Praying it's Manollo, I stick my head around the corner. The big, black tank-looking thing Enrico drove earlier comes into view.
"Come," I pull Izzy by the hand, and we make our way down the few steps off the loading dock to where Manollo idles the truck.
"Where are your keys, Signorina Sartori?" Manollo asks Izzy as I open the door to the backseat and push her in.
"My… Izzy still seems rattled.
I only see Manollo in the SUV, but I don't ask about the other bodyguard.There were six of them when we arrived, my mind whispers,now there are two.I don't dwell on it, I can't. I free the things Izzy is clutching to her chest and dig through her old purse. All I find is the fob. She gave the keys to the valet guy.
I hold up the fob to Manollo, and he curses.
"Is there another one in the car?" He asks her while I close the door behind us, and he takes off.
"Yes," Izzy seems to be getting stronger and buckles herself in. "Do you want me to get it?"
"Enrico will," he says, speaking into his phone. "Yeah, a spare is in the Lambo."
"Is he alright?" I ask again, needing to hear Manollo tell me. I don't know why. I hardly know Enrico, but his larger-than-life presence has already become a fixed figure in my head. And it's not only because he's mine and my family's protector; there'ssomething about him that I want to get to know better, and that draws me to him like a fly is drawn to honey.
Or a fly trap. As always, my mind can't keep quiet.
I don't think I'd mind being trapped by him, though.
The Lamborghini handles like a beast, all muscle and rage beneath me as I tear down the highway toward Edoardo's estate. Izzy's car—not mine—purrs like it knows who's in charge now.
What a fucking clusterfuck. That mall trip should've been a routine errand, a bit of luxury, a show of power, a few hours where the girls could breathe. But I should've known better. Should've seen it coming the moment Izzy asked to go.
Roberto's not subtle when he's pissed. And he was always going to retaliate after what happened at the estate. I just didn't expect him to move this fast, or this publicly. That's on me. I gave them the illusion of safety too soon. Let my guard down. Let them out. And now Cat's got bruises, Izzy's rattled, and several of my men are dead.
