Page 100 of Hot Momosa

Leo would love those.

“Enzo!” a female voice called from the crowd.

Two loud bangs, like firecrackers, sounded to my left.

Enzo crashed into me as if someone had pushed him. At first, I thought he must have had a pen or paring knife in his pocket because pain seared through my side.

But then I saw it.

Blood.

Dark red blood stained the front of his white chef’s coat.

Warm liquid ran down my left side, and it felt as though someone had taken a blow torch to my ribs.

We were shot?

Before I could sort it out, Enzo tugged me close, weaker this time, and stumbled toward the waiting SUV.

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