Page 126 of Bellini Born

Voice trembling, I replied, “I-I think someone is sh-sh-shooting at us.”

“Front left tire was shot out,” Rico confirmed.

“Oh my God,” my best friend breathed out.

“Call Matteo. Tell him we’re under attack and”—I swallowed thickly as tears burned behind my eyes—“tell him that I love him.”

“No, Summer. Don’t talk like that. You’re—“

“Call him now, Gabi! We don’t have time!” Desperation leaked into my tone as I screamed those words.

“Okay, okay.” That was all she said before the line went dead.

“Hang on!” Rico called out before the SUV hopped the curb and came to a stop so abruptly that my seatbelt cut into my chest.

Outside, horns blared from the angry drivers in passing cars. It was closing in on rush hour in downtown Chicago, and it was a damn miracle we hadn’t collided with another vehicle, or a pedestrian, for that matter.

My security guard’s head whipped around. “We need to move.”

Frightened out of my mind, I protested, “What? No! People are shooting at us!”

Rico’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Ma’am, the exterior is bulletproof, but if we stay here, we become sitting ducks. It’s my job to ensure your safety, and right now, that means we have to find cover. I’ve already called for backup. They should be here soon.”

That meant Matteo was on his way, and he’d promised he would never let anything happen to me. Clinging to that promise like a lifeline, I watched as Rico maneuvered his massive body over the center console and into the backseat. Holding a gun, he shoved the back door open and stuck his head out to survey the area.

Deciding the coast was clear, he ducked back inside, extending his free hand for me to take. “I need you to listen very carefully.” I nodded, so he continued, “Forget everything you know about personal space. I’m going to be stuck to you like glue, my body a shield for yours, until I can find a location where you’ll be safe until reinforcements arrive.”

Hauling in a shaky breath, I replied, “Okay.”

“On my count. One, two, three.” He pulled me out of the car, curling his large frame over my much smaller one. I’m sure we looked ridiculous to the passersby on the street, but I didn’t give a fuck. They didn’t get to have an opinion unless they’d been shot at on a random Wednesday afternoon.

“Almost there,” Rico encouraged, and I lifted my head to see that we were headed toward an alley between buildings, lined with dumpsters.

I breathed a sigh of relief that was knocked from my lungs when a sharp crack rang out, and my body hit the pavement, crushed beneath a heavy weight.

Everyone on the sidewalk began screaming, and frantic footsteps raced away from where I lay.

It took a full minute to realize that Rico was on top of me, pinning me face-down against the concrete. Grunting, I tried to turn over, and when I accomplished that feat, I regretted it instantly. A blood-curdling scream tore up my throat when I was met with the unseeing eyes of my bodyguard, a bullet hole through the center of his forehead.

Panic surged, and all of a sudden, I couldn’t breathe. My chest heaved, only able to rise enough to suck in the shallowest of breaths, and black spots danced in my vision. Rico’s lifeless body was slowly crushing me.

Sobbing silently, I cried for the two little girls who would lose a second mother in the span of a year. Then I was struck with overwhelming grief for Matteo, the man who had been so terrified of surrendering to love, afraid of losing the one person he’d bestowed his heart upon, only to have his worst fears realized. Finally, I allowed myself to mourn the future I would be robbed of—watching Bianca and Serafina grow up, experiencing the beautiful life we would have built as a family, traveling the world and moving into old age with Matteo.

Each inhale became more of a struggle, the darkness creeping in from all sides. And just when I thought it was going to drag me under, the weight was lifted, and I sucked in a greedy gasp.

Coughing and wheezing, I turned onto my side and attempted to crawl away, only to be wrenched back by my hair, the agony tearing through my skull as sharp as the cry that passed my lips.

“Lookie what I found. None other than Bellini’s little bitch,” a heavily accented voice sneered in my ear.

“Pl-please,” I stammered, struggling against his hold.

The pockmarked face of the man twisted into a salacious grin. “Well, shit. Didn’t realize what a hot, young thing he was sticking his dick into. Maybe we’ll just have a little fun before I send you back to him in pieces.”

My stomach lurched, and I began to dry heave.

Apparently, this murderer/rapist was squeamish when it came to vomit because he dropped me like a hot potato, muttering, “Fucking disgusting.”

Well, if that’s all it took to keep him far away from me . . .