Page 65 of Bloody Vows
Knowing Sal, I think that might be the right choice.
I can see Tristan's men moving into position, using the cars as cover, their weapons drawn but not yet aimed. Sal's men are doing the same thing, and I realize with growing horror thatI'm sitting right in the middle of what's about to become a battlefield.
"Simone," Tristan calls out, his eyes never leaving Sal. "Get out of the car. Slowly. And come to me."
"I don't think so," Sal says, and his hand slips into his jacket, drawing a gun more quickly than I would have thought he would be able to. "I think she stays right where she is."
"You don't want to do this, Sal." Tristan’s voice is sharp, commanding. A sliver of heat runs down my spine. “Step away from my wife.”
"Don't I?” Sal smirks. “Because from where I'm standing, it looks like I hold a better hand. I have your wife—you have her father’s territory. Without her, you haven’t been here long enough for the other bosses to trust you."
"She's not a playing card,” Tristan growls, and my gaze snaps to him, my chest tightening.
"Isn't she? In our world, women are always playing cards. Your father knew that. My father knew that. Hell, even her father knew that." Sal smiles, that oily smile that I’ve always hated. He’s enjoying this. He doesn’t have a single thought for how this is making me feel, for my fear. I don’t know if Tristan cares how terrified I am, either, but right now, every instinct in my body is screaming at me that I should not go with Sal. That I need to get to Tristan.
The man I just ran from is the one that my gut is now telling me, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I need to runto.
I can see the rage building in Tristan's face, the way his free hand clenches into a fist. "Let. Her. Go."
Sal laughs. "Make me."
The words hang in the air for a moment, and I can feel the tension ratcheting up to a breaking point. Everyone in the alley knows what's coming next. Everyone except me is prepared for it.
"Simone," Tristan says again, his voice urgent. "When I say move, you get out of that car and you run to me. Do you understand?"
"I understand," I call back, my voice barely audible over the pounding of my heart.
"Good. Because this is about to get very ugly." Tristan aims at Sal, his face impassive. “There will be blood, and it’s not going to be mine.”
Sal's smile falters, and I can see him realizing that he's miscalculated. That maybe Tristan isn't as soft as he thought. His gaze sweeps to either side, and I can see his men creeping closer, moving into range. I tense, waiting for the first shot, the first crack of a bullet, and when it comes, the sound jolts through me like a shock.
"Now!" Tristan shouts.
Everything happens at once. Gunfire erupts from both sides of the alley, the sound deafening in the confined space. I throw myself down in the front seat of the car, glass showering down on me as bullets shatter the windows.
I can hear shouting, cursing, the sound of running feet. Someone screams, and I think it might be one of Sal's men—it’s coming from that side of the alley. The air smells like smoke and blood and fear.
"Simone!" Tristan's voice cuts through the chaos. "Move! Now!"
I don't think. I just react. The irony of it all hits me—that I’m obeying the man I’ve fought against since day one, running to the man I ran from—as I throw open the car door and start running toward the sound of his voice, keeping low, trying to make myself as small a target as possible.
A bullet whines past my ear, so close I can feel the heat of it. I stumble, catch myself, keep running. Behind me, I can hear Salshouting orders, but his voice is moving away from me, toward the back of the alley.
Strong hands grab my arms, and I look up to see Tristan's face, his green eyes wild with something between relief and fury.
"Are you hurt?" he demands, his hands running over me, checking for injuries. They’re hard and urgent, and as he drags me to the other side of a large Mercedes G-Wagon, I realize the gunfire has stopped.It was so fast, is all I can think as I glance over and see bodies in the alleyway, all of them on Sal’s side of the fight.
I swallow hard. "No, I don't think so?—"
"What the hell were you thinking?" He's shouting now, his voice raw. "You could have been killed! Do you understand that? You could have died!"
He sounds terrifyingly angry… but underneath it, there’s something else, too. A pained sound that doesn’t fit with everything I know of him. "I'm sorry?—"
"Sorry? You're sorry?" He grabs my shoulders, shaking me so hard that my teeth clack together. "You don't get to be sorry! You don't get to do something that fucking stupid and then apologize for it!"
I can hear his men calling out that Sal has run, the body count, saying that we need to get moving. But Tristan doesn't seem to care about any of that. All his attention is focused on me.
"You were frantic," I say, the realization hitting me like a physical blow. "You were actually scared."
