Page 105 of The Woman with the Target on her Back (Grassi Family)

“What? You’re the only one who gets to keep secrets,UncleStan?” she asked. “Let my father go,” she demanded. “And we can just forget about this.”

“Don’t be so fucking naive,” Sheryl snapped, making Traveler stiffen. Shocked, I thought, at the vitriol and cutting tone. “That is not going to happen. Now I have no issues with the mafia,” she said, turning her gaze toward me. “You should leave and forget what you saw here.”

“That’s not gonna happen.”

“Well then, one missing mafia member likely won’t be too mis—“ she stared, cutting off at the ruckus behind her, then turning slightly to look.

I was about to raise my gun, thinking this was my chance, but Traveler grabbed my sleeve, a silent plea to wait.

I didn’t understand as the voices that were not Aurelio and Milo came closer.

But then they moved into the warehouse, stopping dead at the scene in front of them.

“What the fuck?” the taller, fitter one snapped.

“Traveler,” the darker-skinned one breathed out, his eyes wide as he looked at the damage done to her.

These guys had to be her other uncles, Chuck and Don.

“James?” the other one said at almost the same time, his face a mask of horror and, with each passing millisecond, fury.

Whatever this was, they clearly weren’t in on the whole beat and kill the Moon family thing.

“Oh, good. Everyone is here,” Sheryl said.

Then, moving faster than seemed possible, she was reaching for a gun, firing off several shots so quickly that it was hard to understand what was happening until I saw Don and Chuck’s bodies jolt as bullets sliced into them.

I didn’t hesitate, aiming at Stan as he reached for his own gun.

Traveler let out a shocked scream as Milo and Aurelio came rushing in, finishing the job on Stan.

But we all paused.

Because we weren’t in the business of shooting women, of killing women.

It was a short pause.

But long enough, it seemed, for Traveler.

Whose hand shot out, grabbed my gun from my hand, aimed, and fired.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Each fucking bullet hitting their marks.

Sheryl’s body jerked hard with each bullet slicing through her body.

Then she was falling, but not before she got one shot out herself.

Right at Traveler.

I seemed to see it before Traveler, shoving her hard to the side, praying the bullet wouldn’t land.

“Oh, fuck fuck fuck fuck motherfucking shit,” Traveler hissed, dropping my gun, and grabbing her shoulder.

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