I looked up just in time to see one of Luca’s guards collapse.
Blood spread across the concrete.
God.
I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t raise a child inside this nightmare.
Luca fired again before grabbing the passenger door open. “Get inside!”
I scrambled toward the SUV.
Suddenly another shot rang out.
Pain exploded through Luca’s shoulder.
He staggered.
“Luca!”
His men immediately closed around him while returning fire.
But even injured, Luca looked terrifying.
He ignored the blood soaking through his coat and shoved me into the vehicle.
“Drive!” he barked.
The SUV accelerated violently.
Two more vehicles followed behind us as gunfire echoed through the garage.
I twisted around in the seat breathing hard.
Luca climbed in beside me seconds later while one of his men slammed the door shut.
The convoy sped out into Manhattan traffic.
Nobody spoke for several moments.
The driver focused ahead. The bodyguard in the front seat spoke rapidly into an earpiece.
And Luca sat beside me bleeding through his coat.
I stared at the blood spreading across black cashmere.
Memories crashed into me instantly.
