Page 72 of Immoral

"It might be a few days before I can give you the green light to go back to your office," he admits.

Uberto's face pops into my mind. Nausea reappears in my gut. I take a deep breath as the car moves forward, managing an, "Okay."

Gianni slides his palm over my cheek. Light flickers in his eyes. "I really am proud of you."

My heart soars at his words and how genuine he appears. I lean into his chest, and we ride in silence for a while. We're almost to the expressway when the driver rolls the divider window down.

"Boss, I think someone is following us."

My chest tightens. "What?"

Gianni glances out the back window. I do, too. Another black SUV, exactly like ours, is closer than it should be.

"Get down, Cara," Gianni orders and gently pushes my head to my knees.

"Who is it?" I ask. The pit in my stomach expands. I assume the only person following us would be an Abruzzo.

Gianni yanks a gun out from under his coat and cocks it. "Stay down," he tells me, then orders to the driver, "Try to lose him."

The SUV speeds up, swerving around traffic. Several minutes pass when the driver yells, "Son of a bitch!" The SUV cuts hard to the right. Tires screech, and gunshots ring in the air.

"Motherfuckers!" Gianni barks. He rolls down the window, and cold air blasts the inside of the car.

My heart races faster. I turn my head, still keeping it down. He leans out the window and aims the gun.

More shots ring in the air. I scream as Gianni ducks back in the car. He drops the magazine and reaches below his seat, pulling out a fresh one. The sound of metal sliding hits my ears.

The bodyguard in the passenger seat climbs over the console and rolls the other window down. He orders, "Ambush on three."

"Stay down, tesoro, and cover your ears," Gianni demands.

"One. Two. Three!" the bodyguard counts.

I put my hands over my ears to muffle the sound of the explosions going on all around me. The SUV moves to the left and right and seems to go faster. It feels like it lasts forever, and I'm too scared to lift my head.

Tires skid. A loud crash replaces the sound of the bullets.

"Great shot," I barely hear the bodyguard yell.

Gianni slides his hand around my shoulders. He leans into my ear. "Tesoro, are you all right?"

I swallow hard and slowly look at him. My entire body shakes. The beating of my heart doesn't seem to slow.

He puts his palms on my cheeks. "It's okay. We're safe now."

"I'm-I'm sorry. I…this is my fault!"

"Shh." He pulls my head to his chest. "This isn't your fault."

"Wasn't it the Abruzzos?" I cry out, still trembling.

He holds me tighter. "Take some deep breaths."

"I-I'm sorry," I repeat, suddenly feeling on the verge of hysteria.

In a stern voice, Gianni states, "This isn't your fault."

"Was...was that Uberto? Did you kill him?" I ask, swallowing the dry lump in my throat.

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