“You fucking robot,” I yell. “Get the fuck off me!”
With an angry roar, I manage to grasp her wrists and use them to shove her off me with all my might.
She goes flying and lands several feet away. I scramble to my feet just as she does. Only now that she’s not inches from my face can I truly see the damage I’ve done. But as bad as she looks, with her hair pulled from the tight bun she wore it in and blood smeared across her swollen mouth, I’m sure I look worse.
“Where’s your pretty little knife?” she asks, panting.
That’s when I realize I’m completely unarmed, the knife somewhere on the ground. But I don’t dare take my sight off her.
“Don’t need them,” I lie. With her, I should have brought a bazooka.
A grin spreads over her lips, and she takes a step forward. “I should kill you just for the fun of it.”
“You can try.”
She raises a brow as if she’s considering it. But she doesn’t get the chance to decide, because in that moment, Gunn appears, his weapon trained on her.
“Get the fuck down!” he yells.
Shifting her gaze to him, she gives barely any hint of what she’s about to do until it’s done. In the blink of an eye, she throws her knife at him. It cuts through the air, hilt over blade, even as she darts.
Gunn shoots as he moves quick as lightning to avoid being struck by the knife. But she’s just as fast and bolts.
I spot my gun and snag it off the ground, instantly lifting the barrel toward her. But she’s running, and a moving target is damned hard to hit.
She lunges left into the shadows and both Gunn and I chase after her. As we near the area, a single red light appears, and the revving of an engine alerts us that she’s on a motorcycle.
“Fuck,” I shout, and both Gunn and I backtrack to our bikes. “Bring her back alive,” I call over my shoulder.
I’m on my Harley and after her first, but it doesn’t take Gunn long to speed past me on his Ducati. Within seconds, they leave me in their dust. All that’s visible are two tiny red dots zigzagging down the tight road.
Then they’re gone.
For a few minutes, I continue on, but there’s no sign of them on the empty streets. I pull over and stare ahead, all the while nearly grinding my teeth to a pulp. The only thing that stops me is the pain she inflicted in my jaw.
I rub it tentatively and find a small gash. Damn it. If she weren’t the enemy, I’d love to have her as my guard.
But she is, and what I need is for Gunn to best her and drag her ass back. Then I’ll torture the answers out of her before I slit her throat the way she did Tony’s.
And I’ll use that big knife she’s so proud of too.
15
LUCA
When I drive back to the pizzeria’s parking lot, it’s surrounded by police and emergency vehicles. Uncle Ray is standing in front of the door along with several officers. He’s pointing at the broken glass windows, speaking animatedly as he wipes the sweat from his brow.
He glances my way long enough for the detective he’s speaking with to notice. She turns to me with a stern look, then motions me over.
“Shit,” I mumble under my breath.
I park my bike and walk their way, aware that my appearance speaks volumes of the fight I was just in.
“Mr. Sinacore,” the tall brunette dressed in a white button-up shirt and black slacks greets.
“Ma’am.”
Her gaze roves over me before she writes something on the small pad she’s holding. “Your uncle says you went after the assailant?”