Page 122 of A New Days Don

“No! You’re strong, angel. I’m right behind you, but I’m going to need you to take care of business before I–” Vicek throws the phone out the window before I can hear anything else.

I swallow the heavy knot in my throat. Kill or be killed, and I’m not fucking dying after all these years of barely surviving.

I’m going to have to kill Vicek.

For myself, for Jazzy, and for every other woman in this city.

Chapter 51

Massimo

There is a loud thud and then the line goes dead.

“Fuck!”

Depressing the gas pedal, I force the Audi past a hundred miles per hour. Mila’s blue dot has disappeared, but the purple one still glows and speeds down the same interstate I’m chasing them on.

He threw her phone out the window, but I didn’t send my woman to work before strapping a knife to her ankle. The tracker in its sheath is still alive and well.

His car is a little over twenty miles from mine, and when he turns off the interstate, I call Ren.

“They are headed off the interstate.” I tell him, “What are we driving into? Is there a town or anything out twenty miles from here?”

It doesn’t look like there would be. It is mostly arid desert land, though off in the distance, I can see the start of some shrubbery.

“Doesn’t look like much. Maybe a tiny one-stoplight town, but other than that, it’s just more wasteland.” Ren responds.

“He’s got her.” The line goes silent, and I know it’s because these assholes have never heard me anything less than confident and hard. That is how you survive in the mafia, but between Ren, Raphael, Adriano, and, more recently, Caleb, I trust them not to backstab me for a moment of being real. I need to get the desperation out of me so I can focus.

“Let’s show this motherfucker and the rest of the country what happens when they touch a hair on your girl’s head, boss.” Caleb is the first to break the silence.

My lip quirks at that. Images of Vicek hanging and bloody by my own hands, calm the tide inside.

“I want to see his blood painting the city.”

Chapter 52

Mila

We pull up to an old bungalow that doesn’t look like it has been lived in for the better part of a decade. When Vicek throws the Mercedes into park, I don’t hesitate as I reach for the belt, ready to execute some kind of plan to keep me alive for a little bit longer, but he pulls his gun out and aims it at me.

Vicek’s glare is menacing, but I don’t cower as I stare down the barrel of his gun, “Get out of the car.”

I hold his glare for a minute, watching the way his eyes shift between mine. His brain is running a mile a minute trying to put together his plan for me.

He doesn’t have a plan.

That fact eases some tension inside of me, knowing that this time, we are on an even playing field. He hasn’t come with a plan to subdue and take advantage of me or kill me, and this time, I am more prepared for him than I was at 21. I only hope that training in martial arts and this knife strapped to my calf will be enough against his unravelling mind and gun.

I slip out of the Mercedes into the hot, arid breeze of the desert. I have to blink my eyes several times to get the sand and debris flying in the air out of my eyes.

Vicek’s gun presses into the small of my back as he pushes me up the stairs and into the house. The dank smell of decay lingers in the air. The house is illuminated and blanketed in yellow, halogen light. The room we have walked into isn’t at all what you would expect when looking at the outside of the bungalow. This room is reinforced, and when Vicek closes the door, the whipping sound of wind quiets to nothing.

The silence is a loud ring in my ears as Vicek paces before me.

“So, this is it?” I taunt him. It’s probably not the best choice, but he is acting more on edge than ever, even when he has me where he wants me.

“Shut the fuck up!”