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He stayed down.

I was panting with exertion and adrenaline when the other intruder stalked toward me. His face was burned and raw, his expression murderous. He smelled like cinnamon, tomato sauce and Italian sausage. Taking a step back, I held up the skillet and wielded it like I was at bat.

“Don’t do it,” I warned, hoping I looked like a badass instead of a scared geek.

Scowling, he pulled out a gun from beneath his shirt. Totally not fair.

Another step backward and my rear end hit the wall. I was trapped. I held the skillet out in front of me like a shield. I tried to calculate the odds I could accurately deflect a bullet with the skillet at this close range. The odds were so inestimably low, I gave up.

He is going to shoot me dead in Nonna’s kitchen.

Chapter Forty-Six

Lexi

I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for the shot. A thud, crack and loud thump sounded, but I didn’t feel any pain. When I opened my eyes, I saw the guy lying in a crumpled heap on the floor.

Nonna stood behind him, wielding her oxygen tank and looking supremely pissed off.

“Holy crap!” I gasped, my eyes widening. “You flattened him, Nonna.”

She dropped the oxygen tank and said one word, “Chierchetto!”

Little altar boy. I got the message loud and clear. They were after Slash, and he was in danger.

I grabbed the guy’s gun from the floor and stuck it in the waistband of my jeans. Then I patted down the guy I’d clocked with the skillet. Not surprisingly, he had a gun, too. I handed that one to Nonna and pointed it at the guys on the floor. She understood. Snatching my phone off the table, I punched in Slash’s number. After three rings he picked up.

“Cara?”

“Slash!” I shouted. “You’re in danger. Two men were here at the house looking for you. Nonna and I took them out, but there might be more out there trying to find you.”

There was a long silence before he spoke. “Two men at the house? You and Nonna...took them out?”

“Yes. It’s a long story. Where are you? I can come—”

“I’ve got to go,cara,” he said suddenly. “I’ve got company.” His phone clicked off.

By this time, Nonna was in the backyard, yelling something at the top of her lungs. I presumed she was alerting the entire neighborhood of our situation. In under a minute, her kitchen was full of neighbors talking at a decibel level higher than a rock concert. Two large guys were checking out our prone intruders, making sure they wouldn’t wake and make a run for it. Nonna was front and center, talking in rapid-fire Italian, her hand with the gun waving all over the place. Deciding it would be safer, I took it from her and set it on the kitchen table. A man in the corner of the kitchen was talking loudly on his cell phone. I hoped to God he was talking to the police.

I hated to be rude, but I needed to get everyone’s attention. I stood on a kitchen chair and, putting my fingers together in my mouth, whistled loudly. The room fell quiet as everyone stared.

“Nonna, which way to the market?” I yelled. My heart pounded so hard I could barely breathe. “Slash.Mercato? Dov’è?”

I tried to keep my voice calm, but I was pretty sure I was seconds from losing it. Our eyes met for a worried moment, then she pointed west.

While the neighbors watched openmouthed, I launched off the chair like Wonder Woman and dashed for the front door, tore it open then flew down the driveway. Our rental car was still there, so Slash had apparently gone to the market on foot. I briefly considered taking the car, but if he were on foot, he might have taken a shortcut and I might miss him. After calculating the approximate distance to the market on both foot and car and figuring it was a difference of only five minutes, I decided by foot would be the best solution.

I ran along the road, panting and sweating, while looking for footpaths that might represent a shortcut to the market. Panic gripped my throat as I bolted past a small meadow and heard shouting coming from a small grove of trees ahead. Veering right, I dashed down a small incline toward the trees to check it out. I screeched to a stop in the shadow of one of the trees, spotting Slash in the middle of a clearing taking on four guys with nothing but his fists. One was already down and unmoving, but the other four were advancing on him, two of them with knives.

Five against one wasnota fair fight.

I removed the gun from my waistband and held it in front of me like an actor in a bad movie. I wanted to rush toward Slash and start shooting everyone in sight, but I had to calm myself down and do this properly. If I rushed in and lost the gun, or shot Slash by accident, I wouldn’t be helping either one of us.

I could hear Slash’s voice in my head.Operational and situational awareness is key.

A visual sweep of the area didn’t reveal anyone else lurking around or a nearby vehicle parked by the side of the road. My best guess would be they’d followed him on foot from the market and that was who the guy in our house had been calling.

A plan came to me, and I yanked the phone out of my back pocket, pushed some buttons, then replaced it.