Page 89 of Bound By Betrayal

It was just after sunset when we arrived back home. We’d spent the evening by a lake, talked, fucked, and talked some more until the rumbling in both our stomachs was too loud to keep ignoring. Opting to store the bike away later, I parked it near the front entrance.

The moment we stepped through the door, the smell of Milly’s latest masterpiece hit our noses, and neither of us said a word as we made a mad dash to the dining room.

Amalia’s cell phone buzzed in her pocket, and I saw the conflict on her face.

“Call them back later.”

The buzzing was relentless until she gave in and reached for it, immediately answering when she saw Holly’s name on the screen.

“Holly?”

She sounded fearful as if she knew that whatever news she received on the other end of that call would drastically change things.

“Amalia…they’re all dead.”

She gripped the phone with both hands, her mouth parted slightly, expression stoic. “Who? Who’s dead?”

“The shipment. All of it. Another ambush. They killed the men and stole the guns. They knew the route, Amalia. It doesn’t sound like some random hit.”

She shook her head slowly, the shock of the news settling in.

“Rocco’s men?” I asked.

“I…don’t know. I changed the route yesterday. No one had any idea. It doesn’t add up. Fuck!”

Amalia broke into a sprint and ran down the hallway.

“Hey, where are you going?”

“To end this.”

“Amalia, wait.”

She kept moving faster until I realized she was far from me and heading toward the garage. “Amalia!”

By the time I’d crossed through the doors, the Hellcat roared to life, and the garage door had just finished rolling all the way open.

“Amalia, open the door,” I demanded, pulling at the handle. She didn’t even look my way. “Amalia, open this goddamn door!” The tires screeched when she peeled off and down the driveway. “Shit!” Running as fast as I could through the open garage on foot, I reached my bike and took off after her.

I called her three times and was sent to voicemail. But I wouldn’t stop until she listened to reason.

“You have two seconds,” she hedged, finally picking up.

“Amalia, stop this. It’s a goddamn suicide mission, and you know it.”

“Time’s up.”

“Don’t you dare hang up this call.” Silence. “Listen to me. We can do this. We can do whatever you want, but we do it together. As a team. You, me, your girls. They don’t stand a chance. But not like this. Not alone.”

“No.” The call dropped.

She was weaving in and out of traffic, driving erratically and nearly wrecking.

Fuck.

I called another three times. The fourth was the charm because she picked up but said nothing. “Listen to me,mi reina, please. You can’t be this impulsive. It will get you killed, and so will your driving.”

Her laugh was cynical and cold. “You’re criticizing the way I drive right now.”