Page 2 of Wicked Knight 2

“Fuck. Where are you, Alfred?” I said under my breath. “There’s two of them.”

“End of the street. To your left. Run.”

I slanted one last glance at Donata. She was on her feet looking in my direction. If she knew she was looking at me, her expression didn’t show it. The commotion had gotten her attention, but she had no way of knowing I was here for her.

“Gallo.” The driver licked his lips as he climbed out of the SUV and nodded to the guys flanking me. “The boss wants to talk.”

I had to get him away from here. He found me. But I was certain he didn’t know I was here to spy on Donata.

“Talk? How civilized.” I chuckled.

“Yeah.” He was practically drooling, looking at me like I was his meal ticket, which I probably was. Alfred had mentioned that the price for bringing in known members of the Gallo family dead or alive had doubled in the last few months. “How about you hop in?” He tilted his head toward his back seat. Then he added in Russian, “little lamb.”

When I was in college, Uncle Jimmy ordered me to get a double major in Russian Studies. He wanted me to know our enemies. That was probably the only good piece of advice he ever gave me. He was an asshole for thinking he owned me and my family, that he could dispose of our lives as he saw fit. He thought of us as his own personal army, even though time and time again, I’d told him I had no interest in the family business or his money. Even in death, he was still making my life a living hell.

“How about you fuck off?” I glared at him.

“I can’t get to you.” Alfred cursed in my earpiece.

My gaze darted from Donata to Alfred’s car. “Meet me in the park.”

He knew I meant Prospect Park. It was a good distance from Dumbo, the swanky area where Enzo’s parents lived. I had a hiding spot where I could lay low until Alfred could get to me. Alfred shook his head at me but did as I asked. He jumped the curve and easily maneuvered away from the traffic jam.

I didn’t wait for the Russian assholes to say anything else. I bolted toward the alley, putting all my faith on the fact that they valued their anonymity as much as I valued mine. Shooting at a homeless guy on a crowded street would get the cops’ attention. Slanting quick glances over my shoulder to keep an eye on their progress, I ran from alley to alley. The two SUVs were still stuck in traffic two streets over, honking and yelling at people to move out of the way.

A handful of men, though, had decided to chase me on foot. “Shit.” I hurled myself over the hood of a white sedan to lose them in the throng. They had their guns out, which meant they were done playing nice. They were losing patience. I took in a deep breath and focused on pushing forward. I’d been in situations like this one countless times. I just had to hold off a little longer until they got tired and gave up.

The thing about being on the run for so long, you learned to do whatever it took to survive. I was faster and smarter because I had way more to lose than they did. To them, this chase was a payday. To me, it was life or death.

“Alfred?” I cupped my ear. “Did you get out?”

“I’m still here. I see you. Take a left now. I got you.”

I did as he asked. Hot blood pumped through me as I made my way toward him and the safety of his vehicle. This was it. If I could get to him, I’d be scot-free. I repeated that mantra in my head over and over. I had survived assaults before—hot pursuits, stabbings, gunshots. I could do it again. If I could just get to Alfred.

The moment I saw Alfred’s friendly face fifty feet away from me, a new wave of adrenaline surged through me. I darted toward him, opened the passenger door, and heaved myself inside. I panted a breath while I scanned the area.

“Thanks, old friend.” I patted him on the shoulder.

“Don’t thank me yet.” He slammed on the accelerator and careened away from the curb.

I leaned forward to catch a glimpse of the Russians in the side mirror as we made our way toward the bridge. The last thing I saw was the younger man, aiming a handgun at us. The thought that maybe he wasn’t that good of a shot crossed my mind a second before blood exploded inside the car.

At this point, panic and adrenaline felt the same as the high wore off and left me feeling numb. I patted my chest and stomach a few times before I realized Alfred was the one who got hit.

He turned to me with pity in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Luca.”

I took over the wheel and did my best to maneuver away from the cars. Alfred’s foot on the pedal didn’t let up, even when we nearly ran over a stop sign. His clothes were soaked through and made it hard to see where he’d been hit. Though that didn’t matter. What mattered was that he was losing too much blood, barely awake and still behind the wheel.

“Alfred, you need to stop.”

Another shot hit the passenger seat and then the dashboard. If I hadn’t been practically on the driver’s seat, that bullet would’ve hit me. Another shot rang out, and I swerved in and out of the lane.

“They’re shooting at us in broad daylight. What the fuck?” I steered the wheel to get us back on the road.

Though at the speed we were going, we were likely to crash into someone once we reached the bridge. I veered away from the main streets to find a place where I could switch places with Alfred.

When Alfred toppled over unconscious, bullets pelted the side of our vehicle. They were aiming at the tires, not us. The other two SUVs caught up to us and were determined to stop us in our tracks. One second, I was trying to keep control of the car, and then the next, we were spinning in mid-air and somehow upside down.

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