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I have no idea how Cesare is doing it—-

Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God!

But all the other vehicles have either flipped into the air or crashed into each other while we continue on our merry way, his Lambo unscathed, and mymafiaboss driver equally unscarred.

"Duck,"Cesare suddenly hisses, and I'm just so out of my mind with terror I have no idea what he's saying.

"Where?"I choke out. And are we talking about Daffy, Donald, the Mighty—-

"I said, fuckingduck!"

Cesare shoves my head down between my legs.

OH,so it'sthatkind of duck he was talking—-shiiiiit!

Tears prick my eyes when a swift flip of the lever has Cesare's seat instantly falling back, and just in time, too, with a bullet whizzing by and grazing the edge of his cheek. One second slower than that, and he could've—-

He could've—-

He—-he—-

"Gluck,"Cesare grates out.

Sobs threaten to spiral out of my throat. Is that his way of telling me we're vastly outnumbered, and it's only a matter of time before one of our enemies shoots us dead?

"Good luck," I say fiercely even as my whole body is now quaking in terror. I'll be by his side through thick and thin—-

"Fuck, tesoro."

I wonder if Cesare's finally snapped, with the sound of strained laughter tingeing his voice.

"I'm asking you to hand me the fucking gun in the glove compartment,tesoro—-"

Oh.

"It's called a fuckingGlock—-"

OH!

"You should have told me that in the first place!" I feel like laughing and crying at the same time as I scramble to open the glove compartment and get his stupidGlock.Maybe I'm the one who's lost my mind—-

"Now!"

The snap in his voice makes me bump my head and jump in my seat, and I'm all thumbs as I fumble with the gun in my hand—-

Shiiiiiiiiit!

Its weight takes me by surprise, and just as the gun starts to slip out of my fingers, another car slams into us on Cesare's side, andBAAAAAAAANG!

Cesare falls back against his seat in the nick of time once again—-but the other guy isn't as unlucky, and the gun I'm holding drops to the floor as I watch a bloody hole slowly form right in the middle of his head.

Oh God.

Cesare gets back up, and a swift yank on the steering wheel has our car swerving away in safety, and a weird ringing fills my eardrums as I watch the other car spin out of control.

God. Oh God.

I feel sick to my stomach as I force myself to look over my shoulder, and I see all the carnage we're leaving behind.