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I put a hand on his chest.

“Holy shit,” he says through ragged breaths.

“It’s fine. Ambulances are coming,” I explain.

The man on the other side of Dante laughs. I finally look up at him. His hair is a totally different color than Dante’s, but he has the same eyes and their faces are similar.

“Fuck that.” Dante coughs. “I’m fine. A little banged-up, that’s all.”

“You might have shrapnel inside of you,” I disagree. “You should see a doctor.”

“You should see a doctor,” he hisses at me.

“Come on, get up, both of you,” the other man says.

I grab Dante’s wrist. “He needs a doctor,” I demand. “And who are you?”

“Oh. Hi, I’m Marco Romano, Dante’s brother,” the redheaded man says with an unamused look on his face. “Now can you get up off the fucking ground?”

I blink.His brother.

I slowly push up from the concrete and grab Dante’s wrist. He gets up with a huff and takes a deep breath.

A police car pulls into the lot.

“Damnit,” Dante mumbles. “Marco, can you handle ’em?”

“Yeah, I got it. Looks like Silva’s on shift tonight. I’ll explain everything,” Marco agrees.

I look between them. “We’re not all going to talk to them?”

Dante grabs my hand. “No. We’re getting out of here before someone tries to blow your ass up again.”

Despite not agreeing with leaving before being able to talk to the police and be taken to the hospital, I find myself going with him anyway. My feet seem to have a mind of their own.

“So I was the target?” I ask as Dante opens the passenger door of an unfamiliar car parked in the middle of the lot.

“Duh,” he says, clearly irritated.

“Who targeted me?” I ask, not getting in yet. My eyes shift over to Marco, who’s talking to several police officers and EMTs.

“Get in the fucking car, Ethan,” Dante growls at me.

The sound of his voice sends a shiver down my spine and into my groin. I slide into the passenger seat of the car and put the seatbelt on.

Dante gets into the driver’s side.

“Are you sure you should be driving?” I eye him, seeing blood on his neck and knuckles as he grabs the steering wheel.

“The only thing I’m sure of is that I’m going to blow the heads off some motherfuckers,” Dante says through his teeth as he pulls out of the parking lot so fast it nearly gives me whiplash.

I hold myself more firmly in my seat and take a deep breath.

The numb feeling is starting to go away, little by little.

My pulse starts to race, but I try to ignore it.

“Who?” I ask.