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“Don, scappi! È una trappola!” Someone yells and Gio’s men open fire before we glimpse our quarry.
Tomasso’s men flee and Lakeshia shakes her head. Horror stamps itself on her features, creating a desolate landscape on the face I’ve come to treasure.
“No…” Despair rings in her barely audible voice. “No, we were so close.”
Before I or Takeshi can offer her encouragement, she straightens her shoulders. “Fuck this. I can’t live another day knowing he’s alive.” She bolts.
I’ve never seen her run so fast. It takes me a few seconds to understand the ramifications.
“Shit! Lakeshia, come back!” Takeshi yells while taking off after her.
I swing the RPG case over my shoulder and follow, but a gun hurtling at my head causes me to duck and fall prey to a surprise fist slamming against the side of my head. Ringing in my ears disorients me and gives my attacker the chance to punch me in the gut. I double over and cough, but I don’t have time to indulgein a passive reaction. The air shifts close to my head, and I duck and tackle my assailant.
“I don’t have time for this shit!” I yell as I pummel the asshole who’s interfering with my ability to protect my wife. He gets another hit in, and I spin around to his back to hold him in a headlock and apply pressure until I hear the satisfying snap from twisting his neck.
To my side, Takeshi extracts a blade from his attacker’s forehead. We nod at each other and dash around a melee of Gio’s, Tomasso’s, and our men. Bullets whizzing by our heads further complicate our race to Lakeshia.
She’ll be fine. She has to be. I only just found her and we have too many years yet to live…
I swallow my budding anguish and silence the voice in my head trying to drag me into a hopeless pit. I’ll find Lakeshia kicking ass and showing Tomasso why targeting her is a bad idea.
I exit the building seconds after Takeshi. Where the hell is she? I search frantically for her brown complexion. Instead, I duck as a bullet coming from one of Tomasso’s cars nearly hits my leg. A line of four vehicles with flat tires sits immobile while we exchange bullets.
But where the hell is my wife?
Takeshi grabs my elbow and pulls me behind overgrown topiaries.
“Have you seen Lakeshia?” I aim my gun and steady my arm, anticipating a shooter to pop up and expose their hiding spot.
The second they do, I pull the trigger. The bullet hurls them backward, reducing our opposition by one.
“Not yet, but let’s say that’s good news. No body means she’s alive somewhere.” Takeshi takes out two people with ease.
“Who the hell is that?” I point in the distance.
A cloud of smoke billows, growing closer the longer I stare. Within seconds, a car appears, sliding as it takes a corner.
“Found her. And Tomasso.” Takeshi points to two figures separated by two car lengths.
They’re pointing guns at each other. My heart stutters to a stop before beating triple time. Why is she endangering herself this way? We make our way toward Lakeshia, a sense of urgency granting us superpowers and ensuring we don’t connect with the ground in our race to protect our wife.
“It’s about time you gave up running and faced your death at my hands.” Tomasso smirks but the deadly glare he directs at Lakeshia belies his humor.
“Oh, Tomasso, how you’ve misplaced your confidence. Your men won’t walk away from this today, and you…” Lakeshia mimics his grin. “You’ll be praying for me to kill you, and my father will finally get the peace and justice long overdue to him.”
Sadistic braying leaves his mouth. “He was a pussy when he lived and deserved his death.” Tomasso rakes his gaze over Lakeshia. “And from the looks of you, he spawned another worthless pussy.”
Lakeshia’s limbs shake. And if I can see it, so can Tomasso.
“Don’t let him antagonize you, Lakeshia,” Takeshi yells. “Remember why we’re here.”
“Keishi, this isn’t good.” I run faster, needing to reach her before Tomasso hurts her.
“I don’t need you to tell me. Haul your ass now!” Takeshi increases his pace.
Lakeshia nods, stiffens, and adjusts her aim. “Thisworthless pussymade sure your nephew will never come in one and curse this world with another Giametti.” Her bragging couldn’t make me prouder.
The moment she pulls the trigger, a car—no, the car I spied earlier—careens between her and Tomasso, spraying gravel anddust in its wake. The vehicle rocks to a stop, shielding her target, Tomasso’s gun hand. The lucky bastard. If not for the car, Lakeshia would have landed her shot, and I would have relished his pain-filled scream.
