Page 37 of Devious Kingpin
A girl had to have an outlet. Right?
* * *
Two hours later, we left the party.
My stomach was in knots. A good part of the underworld now knew I was a DiLustro.
Juliette DiLustro.
It sounded foreign. Not exactly wrong, but definitely strange.
Dante opened the door of his car for me, and I slid into the passenger seat as he walked around the car and got behind the wheel. Without a word, he drove out of Emory’s driveway, the tires screeching against the pavement.
“Don’t rush back to the hotel on my account,” I said, cutting through the silence. Was he trying to kill us?
“Maybe I want to get back to the hotel and fuck my wife.”
My head snapped in his direction, my mask slipping, but I quickly reined my emotions back in. I was determined not to let anyone see past my mask. It was my shame. My burden to carry. I had survived fine so far. I was sure to survive whatever came my way next.
“Since we’re getting married tomorrow, you’ll have to wait until then,” I said quietly. His eyes darted my way and something about the way he watched me made me feel self-conscious. So I turned my head and stared out the window.
I wasn’t sure what to expect from Dante. I knew he was eager for my body. He never hid that fact, but I couldn’t gauge his cruelty. Would he relish in suffocating me and taking what he thought he was entitled to? I didn’t think I’d be able to hold myself back and not kill him. And that would cause a full-blown war.
No doubt about it.
“Always taunting,” he muttered. “Always a fucking tease.”
On a normal day, I’d tell him off but I was too tired for that. It didn’t matter. We both knew there’d be no sex tonight. So I just shook my head and returned to staring out the window at what I could make out from the landscape. I couldn’t see much of anything. Not that there was anything to see. Just cacti and desert for miles and miles.
The ride to Emory’s house had been tense, but that paled in comparison to the tension that danced through the air now. I turned my head to find my unexpected husband keeping his eyes on the road, his jaw tight. His profile was all hard lines and dark expressions.
The constant buzz of the engine had my eyelids growing heavier and heavier. As I was about to doze off, I was yanked down, my face flattening against my knees, just as glass shattered.
I pinched my eyes shut as glass flew all around me.
Dante’s voice was tense. “Keep your head down.”
Bullets sprayed all around us and I turned my face to Dante. “You’re going to get hit,” I screamed.
He ignored my comment, pulling out his phone. My heart hammered in my chest, adrenaline surging through my veins. The chase and gunfire gained momentum and the shots sounded closer and closer.
Dante pressed on the brakes, letting the lights of the chasing cars pass us. Suddenly, the roles were reversed—from being chased to being the chasers. Three SUVs were in front of us. Expertly shifting the gears, Dante pressed the gas pedal to the floor and his Bugatti sped up toward whoever had hit us. He pulled out his gun and aimed at the first car’s tires.
Bang. Bang.
The first SUV lost control of the vehicle and smashed against the second SUV, then swerved to the side. It went tumbling, over and over, while the other SUV ended up in the ditch on the side of the road. The third SUV was on my side and Dante couldn't make a clean shot.
“Give me the gun,” I hissed, extending my hand.
His dark eyes connected with me for just a second, yet it felt like a lifetime. I held my breath, wondering if he’d trust me enough to hand me the gun. When he extended it, I took it firmly while the sign of his trust washed over me like warm honey.
“Aim at the tires, then shoot when I say,” he instructed.
I nodded, reloaded the magazine, lowered the window, then cocked the gun and aimed at the dark SUV. The back window rolled down and a face appeared. A woman’s face.
With a fur coat and hat? Jesus fucking Christ. Didn’t she know we were in Vegas and there was no snow forecasted, despite it being February? Her dark brown eyes met mine and a peculiar feeling slithered up my spine. Something was off about that woman. Creepy.
“That fucking psycho bitch,” Dante hissed. “Forget the tires. Shoot at her face.”
