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He’ll wither in that prison, knowing he couldn’t save me, that it was all for nothing.
Corrado will avenge me, though. I’m certain of it. Probably with dynamite. He’ll level the place to the ground. I find solace in that.
Dom’s men catch up and stop in front of the car, guns drawn and pointing at me. I bend and cover my head, whimpering, praying for it all to end swiftly. It does end, and the quiet comes.
I lift my head.
Beside me is Corrado under the cover of a ball cap. He’s carrying my shoes in one hand and his golden gun in the other. He smells of gunpowder and rage, his nostrils flaring, his chest heaving.
Saying nothing, he puts my heels in my lap, then slams the passenger door closed.
From the other side of the car, he slides into the driver seat and presses someone’s cut-off thumb on a button on the dashboard. The car reads the fingerprint and starts up at the same time that Corrado opens the window and throws the thumb away.
We peel out of the parking lot.
On the street, emergency responders with blaring sirens are rushing in the opposite direction while Corrado drives, his mood deadly and on high alert as he keeps checking the rearview mirror. Once we clear the neighborhood, he uses his hand to push his jaw to the side and crack his neck.
I lean against the seat back and pray for Daisy. I’ll check on her as soon as we get home, seeing as how I left my phone at home, on purpose and not by accident. I was mad at him for interfering with my job. In case Corrado called, I didn’t want to have to answer. But now…
“Corrado,” I start.
He presses his finger over his lips. “Shhh,” he says.
“I only have one question.”
He glares. “The answer is no.”
“No, you didn’t start shooting at the club?”
“With you inside? Most certainly not.”
“But you showed up, so I think you know what happened.”
In confirmation, he nods.
“Is Dom dead?”
Another nod.
“Are you hurt?”
A glance my way. “Yes.”
I turn in my seat and examine his body, but I can’t see anything. “Where?”
“On my side.”
“Is it serious?”
“It depends on how fast I can get where I’m going.”
“Are you bleeding?”
More nodding.
“Oh my God. Let me drive.”
Corrado hits his head on the back of the seat. “No.”
