Page 147 of Vow Of Fire

Another shrug. “Call it what you like, but I see the way he looks at you. That’s not nothing.”

I stared at him. Maybe once, but not anymore. A pang stole my breath, and I had to fight not to break into a sob. We’d been happy, for a while. A moment in time. But that was over now. Whatever had been between us had withered away and died.

I didn’t know why I was so surprised. It wasn’t like it was a usual situation. He’d kidnapped me, for goodness’ sake. He was my captor, the man who’d taken advantage of me in all possible ways. I still wasn’t free of him and wouldn’t be until we’d ended this turf war with the cartel.

By the time I left an hour later, rain had started falling steadily across Manhattan.

Kyle got out and opened the SUV door for me. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah.” I glanced back toward the townhouse windows. “He’s an interesting guy.”

Kyle shot me a crooked grin. “That’s one way of putting it.”

The drive downtown was quiet. Rain hissed against the windshield while gray clouds swallowed the skyline whole.

We’d just crossed into Midtown when the SUV jerked violently sideways and the windshield exploded.

“Jesus Christ!” Kyle swore as he spun the wheel.

I screamed and ducked as gunshots erupted around us. Oh God. It was happening again, and this time I didn’t have Dante to protect me.

Automatic fire punctured the air. Glass shattered across my lap as Kyle headed for a line of parked cars.

“Stay down!” he cried, keeping his foot on the gas. It was so loud I had to block my ears.

I heard him grunt and curse under his breath as blood sprayed across the driver-side window.

“Kyle—!” My scream tore through the SUV as he slumped against the wheel before dragging himself upright again through sheer force of will.

“Shit, Kyle. Are you okay?”

“I’m hit,” he gritted out, hitting the brake.

Gunfire hammered the vehicle again, bullets ripping through metal as the SUV skidded to a halt in the middle of the rain-slick street.

38

A FATAL FUCKING MISTAKE

Dante

Iwas sitting at my desk trying, and failing, to work when Nico called.

Despite the war heating up between the Bratva and the Colombians, there was still ordinary business to attend to. The shipping companies needed contracts approved and routes reassigned. A stalled construction project on the waterfront was waiting on permits that several city officials had suddenly decided to delay. Three different businesses were disputing territory and expected me to settle it before someone put a bullet in the wrong person.

On top of that, I had a stack of reports detailing payments to informants, police officers, customs agents, and half a dozen other people who preferred cash-filled envelopes to honest paychecks. Every one of them needed to be reviewed. Every one of them represented a potential leak if the war escalated.

Normally, I could have handled it all without thinking. Today, I’d read the same page three times and still couldn’t remember what it said.

“What’s up?” I said, straight away.

“You okay? The tracker on your SUV has gone offline.”

“What?” I rubbed my forehead. “When?”

“Five minutes ago. I have an alert set up. Looks like it lost signal on Lexington.”

“Evelyn’s in the SUV,” I said, jumping to my feet. “She went to have tea at Leo’s place.”