Page 39 of The Leader

Jazzy felt like throwing up. She reminded herself that she needed to keep her cool, though everything inside her screamed to take his gun and kill the bastard.

“Please, let me help her,” she tried once again, looking around for a weapon. There was a kettle on the counter next to him. Some knives on the wall next to the fridge.

“Maybeyoucan satisfy me. Your sister sure couldn’t. Damn cold fish. What d’you say, Jocelyn?” He hiccupped, his eyes roaming over her body. “Wanna fuck? I can see it, you know. See it in your eyes that you want me. There’s a fire inside you. Passion.”

His crazy rant triggered a deep, hidden memory.

You want this, don’t you? You want me to fuck you.

She felt nauseated. Her hands turned into fists, and it was only by sheer will that she didn’t launch herself at him.

Then she spotted a movement behind Franco. Behind the kitchen door leading into the garden, stood Tommie. His face pale against his blue Mohawk.

She looked away from him, not wanting to alert Franco. “What’s with the gun on the counter, Franco?” she asked loudly.

Franco grabbed the weapon and chuckled. The bastard actually chuckled. “It’s my father’s. The once mighty Caruso don. Couldn’t leave it behind. Might need it where I’m going.”

The only place you’re going to is Hell.

“I’m going to check on my sister now.” She couldn’t just stand in the doorway anymore. Slowly, watching Franco from the corner of her eyes, she kneeled next to Carmen and pressed her fingers against her neck. Relief poured over her when she felt a pulse.

“She will be fine,” he said. “Get her up. We’ll be leaving in an hour.”

The man was deluded. “Hang on, sis. I’m getting you out of here.”

Apparently, her words were like holding a red flag in front of a bull, because Franco suddenly made his move. He grabbed her by the hair, lifting her up, waving his gun in her face.

“You’re not taking her anywhere,” he snarled. “She’s mine. She will always be mine.”

His eyes were those of a crazy man’s.

“Fuck you. She isn’t a piece of property you can just kick around. She’s a human being, you asshole.” And then, because she could, she spat in his face.

His fist connecting with her stomach made her double over. She dropped to her knees, trying to catch her breath. Her gaze landed on her sister, who—thank God—had opened her eyes.

When Jazzy looked back up, this time, Franco’s gun was pointing at her.

What they said about your life flashing before your eyes like a movie, turned out to be a lie. There was only one image she saw: Gio. Their passionate nights together, the lazy Sunday mornings. He was going to be so pissed when he found out that she’d gotten herself killed by being reckless.

Before she could make a sound, or plead for her life, Tommie made his move. He barreled against Franco, taking him to the ground.

As the men struggled on the floor, both reaching for the gun, Jazzy crawled back onto her feet, ignoring the pain in her stomach. She stilled when a shot went off.

Fear took her over when Franco got up, leaving a bleeding Tommie on the floor, a gunshot in his shoulder.

With a battle cry she didn’t even know she possessed, she launched herself against Franco, kicking and hitting him wherever she could. In the back of her mind, she heard the gun drop onto the floor, but she couldn’t take the time to look for it.

Franco stumbled backwards when she planted her knee in his stomach. His head hit the wall, making pots and pans drop onto the floor. It wasn’t enough to take him down, though. He kept storming toward her.

Right before he could reach her again, he jerked to a halt, his eyes widening with shock.

Jazzy wasn’t sure what made him stop, until he dropped to his knees, revealing her sister standing behind him.

Franco did a face plant and that was when Jazzy saw the butcher knife that stuck out of his back. Carmen was the next one to drop to her knees, holding a hand over her stomach.

She heard the sound of heavy boots running toward them.

“What the fuck!” Hector’s colorful rant of curses had never been more welcome.

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