“Ms. Brooks, I think you’re in shock.”
Was that a … smirk on his face? What about this is funny? She was repulsed that her internal monologue was braver than she was on the outside at the moment. It would take her until the fear of imminent death wore off, she supposed.
“Uh-huh,” was all she managed with a little nod to confirm that he had hit the nail on the fucking head.
That slight smirk on his face grew a touch bigger as he began to sit up.
“Sir, I’d stay down,” Amo said, looking serious in his rearview mirror.
“Why—Oh shit,” he groaned when he was thrown back into the seat when a car rammed into their rear end.
“Christ!” Nadia yelled, seeming to have found her voice upon the second hit. The only reason she hadn’t gone flying was because the grip Dante had on her was becoming slightly painful at this point.
“Hang on,” was the only warning Amo gave before he suddenly jumped on the freeway.
Well, if the car behind them wasn’t going to be the one to kill them all, it certainly was going to be the breakneck speed the Caruso bodyguard was sure to impend upon them.
“Why am I getting the feeling this is normal for you three?” she asked, exasperated at being the only one showing any emotion.
She had expected Dante to be the one to answer. Instead, it was his son, Leo, who ominously said, “It is.”
Nadia couldn’t see much of the boy yet, with Dante’s body blocking her sight, but from what she could see, she guessed he was definitely a teenager, and the cut of the dirty blond hair told her that he probably didn’t fall far from the tree in the good-looks department. Calling his son pretentious was going to be an understatement if he looked half as good in the front as he did from the back, especially with kids these days.
The back seat of the car was small, anyway, but with her height and fat ass, along with Dante’s tall … firm … muscular frame, which she had delightfully discovered over the last few minutes of being pressed up against him, only made the seat smaller. She desperately needed a breather.
“Okay, I think it’s safe enough to sit up.”
Dante’s warning wasn’t fast enough as she fought to get out from under him. “I wouldn’t—”
This time, the three-word phrase had no trouble coming out when a bullet hit the back windshield. “What the fuck!”
“It’s bulletproof,” he told her, “but it’s best not to test it.”
“You think?” Sarcasm was an understatement for how her words came out as she slammed her body back down with Dante’s. Bulletproof glass was like airplanes—it was something you couldn’t explain how it would even fucking work and only had one explanation. Witchcraft.
“I think he just wants to take you out, sir,” Amo stated, seeing he and Leo were clearly not the target.
“That bullet was meant for me,” Dante darkly confirmed. It was clear he didn’t have a shadow of a doubt on his mind.
Amo gripped the wheel tighter. “It looks like our friend is done with the games and has decided to go straight to the top.”
“Your friend?” Gulping, Nadia’s mouth slowly started going dry while she stared at Dante. “How many of your men has your friend taken out so far?”
“A few,” he admitted after a few passing moments. “And then some.”
Nadia didn’t know what “and then some” meant, but she really didn’t like the sound of that. It somehow seemed worse than death.
Seeing the fear flash across her features, he reassured her, “I promise to get you home safely, Ms. Brooks.”
Okay, that she liked the sound of coming from his hot lips.
“Don’t worry, boss,”—Amo took the car to new heights, trying to lose the person following them, for good this time—“I don’t plan on any of us dying from One-Shot today.”
“One-Shot?” Nadia repeated the name drop as if it was casual. Whoever, or whatever, it was that was chasing after them had clearly earned a reputation badass enough to warrant a nickname like that.
I’m fucked, aren’t I?
I’m fucked aren’t I? Dante didn’t know how to tell her that One-Shot had gotten his name because he only needed one bullet to shoot someone right between the eyes.
Clearing his throat, he hoped to change the subject. “Leo, get Lucca on the phone—”
Before he could finish, his son had his phone pressed to his ear. “Vincent already told him. He heard the gunshot as he was walking into the casino. He tried to go after the car but lost it. Lucca’s been tracking us, but no one’s been able to catch up to us.”
“Won’t matter much now; we lost him,” Amo said, glancing sternly into the rearview mirror.
Leo listened to the other end for a few moments before hanging up.
Having mixed feelings about losing One-Shot was an understatement for Dante at the moment. If Leo, or Ms. Brooks, hadn’t been in the car, he and Amo would have chanced their luck at taking him out.
“I think it’s safe now to sit up,” Nadia had to remind him.
“Right.” Dante shook his head slightly before muttering, “Sorry.”
Feeling his grip on her loosen and disappear, she quickly sat up. Her body might’ve enjoyed being pressed up against him, but her mind was becoming more claustrophobic in this death trap of a car by the second. The sweat on her brow and racing heart had her wondering if she was becoming lightheaded or car sick.
“Can we slow down now?” she asked the crazed driver, whose foot hadn’t left the gas.
Amo acted as if he hadn’t heard her.
She wiped the bead of sweat that was sliding down her temple, her voice seeming to become weak as she said, “Please.”
“Slow down.” Dante’s order carried strongly to the front of the car and, almost immediately, the car began to slow to a more legal fast speed. “Take your jacket off …”
Huh? she thought in a haze.
“Before you pass out.”
Oh.
Watching her struggle, he scooted closer to her to help her get her black blazer down her arms. His cold eyes followed the perspiration sliding down the side of her face, to the beads that were beginning to form on her chest. He watched one of the salty beads fall from her clavicle, slowly traveling down to her breasts, before it disappeared under her white tank top that was being revealed.
Dante no longer “supposed” the woman was beautiful, as Nadia was, in fact, beautiful. Her hair was silky black and didn’t quite touch her shoulders. He found himself liking the style of it. It was a smart, chic style that suited her bone structure. It was parted to the side, with one side of her hair being fuller than the other, in a bob-like cut. It was the type of haircut only women with strong, beautiful features could pull off.
Being a part of the Italian mafia, it was a bad habit to want to know what ethnicity a person was, as they mostly dealt with people of the same bloodline as themselves, since the beginning of time. He wasn’t quite sure what bloodline Nadia had. While they shared many of the same features on paper, she didn’t look Italian. Her tanned skin had more of a bronzed look than his; her strong, black brows weren’t as thick but shaped thinner; and her nose, while long, was perfect. He didn’t know what word he was looking for to describe her features until it popped in his head … Sculpted.