Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 75107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
So I walked out the door, down the stairs, and made my way into the bodega.
I’d found the cord in under a minute, but decided to wait for the fresh coffee to brew to grab us a few before heading back up.
When I heard my name yelled into the store, that panicked pitch making my blood run cold, I knew shit had just gone all sideways again.
I didn’t even take the cord.
What the fuck good would it be when we were running for our lives again?
I flew toward the door, grabbing Steph’s hand, and running down the road.
When it came to the boroughs, Brooklyn was the one I knew the least. A long-ass rivalry between the Costas, who ran all the Five Families, and the Lombardis, who ran Brooklyn, meant that most of us didn’t step into enemy turf.
So I had no fucking idea where we were going, just as far away from the safe house as quickly as possible.
Out this way, the streets weren’t as busy as they would be in places like Midtown or other parts of Manhattan. I wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing. On the one hand, it meant that no one was in our way. On the other, it meant there was no one between us and the fucker who was sure to be on our heels sooner or later.
Our best bet would probably be to grab a cab and race back to Manhattan. But as I scanned the damn streets, I didn’t fucking see one.
I knew in less tourist-heavy areas, ride shares were more common than yellow taxis. And the time of night wasn’t exactly helping either.
Last time I checked a clock, it was around nine. Not late, but late enough for traffic to thin in areas not bar or club heavy.
“Which way?” Steph asked, breath panting, creating little clouds around her head, as we neared a cross street.
I had no fucking idea.
So I just dragged us to the left, not sure if it was a good (or terrible) decision as we seemed to make our way into an even emptier, industrial park full of warehouses, chain-link fences, delivery docks, and service roads.
“Do you know where we are?” Steph asked between gasps for breath.
“No. Do you?”
“I don’t know Brooklyn well.”
There were a shit-ton of buildings, most of them looking either abandoned, under construction, or simply closed down for the night.
Did we hide? Take the chance that he would look in each of the buildings? Or, worse yet, just shoot indiscriminately into them?
“Fuck,” I hissed when a shot rang out, landing in a sign to our side.
Without thinking, I pulled Steph with me down a cross street, then a small alley between buildings.
“Down,” I demanded when we ran up to a dumpster. “Whatever you do, don’t get up.”
“Your… gun?” she panted.
I wasn’t about to tell her that I didn’t have it, that I had my fists and scrappy street-fighting skills and nothing else.
“Venezio—” she whispered, trying to grab the edge of my shirt.
“Don’t move,” I demanded.
“No,” she whisper-yelled at me. Then, in a smaller voice, “Don’t leave me.”
Fuck.
Those words nearly cut me off at the knees.
But I forced myself to move away, breaking into a run toward the end of the alley, then cutting up the next one.
My shoes crunched on salted pavement. I wasn’t trying to be quiet. I was trying to lead the fucker away from Steph.
I saw the puffs of the guy’s breath in the air.
He was coming.
I had to be faster.
Because if I was stupid, if I got taken out, there was nothing and no one standing between him and Stephanie.
True, she was innocent.
And he couldn’t use her against me if I was dead.
But some men were sick. And they just wanted to hurt women as punishment.
I couldn’t let that happen.
I ran forward, arms already out, and slammed full force into the bastard just as he broke into the mouth of the alley.
We both flew to the ground.
I landed hard on my shoulder, the pain sparking up my neck and down my arm.
But there was no time to focus on that.
I scrambled up onto all fours and faced the guy.
Only to find an unfamiliar face with wide, panicked eyes.
“The fuck, man?”
“Where’d he go?” I growled, grabbing the guy and dragging him to his feet. “Where the fuck did he go?”
My head was on a swivel.
But I saw no one. Heard no one.
Fuck.
Fuck.
A shot rang out.
My stomach bottomed out.
The stranger yanked away and ran from the gunshots like his ass was on fire.
I ran toward the sound, knowing where it was coming from.
The alley.
Where Steph was hiding behind a fucking dumpster.
Dammit.
What the fuck was wrong with me?
I heard no cries of pain, no pleas for mercy.
I didn’t even hear any fucking footsteps.
I ran back down the alley, my heart hammering in my ears.