Jessie bit her lower lip. “Can I grab some stuff?”
“Can you do it in five minutes?” he asked.
Jessie nodded.
“Go.” Sergio positioned himself by the front door.
Jessie hurried to her bedroom area. She snatched an old backpack. Then she dumped her phone, wallet, and some clothes in it. She didn’t really think, couldn’t really process what was happening.
She put her backpack on and ran back to Sergio. “I’m done.”
“Good. Stay close to me.” Sergio and she left her apartment. They were halfway to the emergency staircase when the elevator doors opened. Two men in suits emerged, both of them holding guns. One of them, the taller and stockier one, noticed them. Sergio drew his weapon faster.
“Go,” he yelled at her. “I’ll follow.”
Jessie screamed as the shooting began. Bullets zipped everywhere. Plaster flew. One nearly missed her head by an inch and embedded itself to the wall next to her. They moved closer to the stairs. Sergio used his big body to shield her. She heard him grunt, but she couldn’t risk finding out if he was shot. She opened the door to the stairs and broke into a run.
Panting, Jessie gripped the rails. She couldn’t afford to suddenly trip and fall over. That would make it far too easy for her pursuers. Her lungs burned. Her legs ached. She told herself she’d exercise more regularly if she made it through this ordeal.
She flew down the stairs, wondering when it would end. Seven stories felt like a hundred. By the time she reached ground level, she was spent. She panted, trying to catch her breath. The door leading outside loomed just a few feet from her. Freedom.
She looked behind her. Still no sign of Sergio. Jessie touched her lips, which were still swollen from their earlier kiss. What if he’d perished upstairs? Two against one seemed so unfair. Jessie remembered his grunt. One of the assassins had definitely gotten a lucky shot. Sergio had told her to run, so if he really was dead, she owed it to him to keep going. Except her feet refused to listen.
A loud bang made her jump. The door leading to the street opened, revealing a grinning maniac in a suit. There were three of them, she remembered Sergio saying. Her pulse raced as the third assassin pointed his gun right at her head. Time halted. Jessie couldn’t move or speak. Fear took root deep inside her.
Her mother’s swaying corpse flashed through her mind. When her mother decided to kick the chair and hang herself, was she terrified like Jessie was?
“Bye-bye,” the assassin said with a childish smile.
“Jessie, duck!” yelled Sergio.
She dove for the ground. The impact made her groan. Sergio fired. When she looked up, she glimpsed the third assassin’s face. She wasn’t sure if he died smiling. Half his face was covered in blood. The killer toppled backward. Sergio was right beside her. He helped her to his feet.
She automatically leaped at him, wrapping her hands and legs around his body unthinkingly. “I thought you died,” she whispered. “And I was next.”
“It’ll take more than three trigger-happy assholes to get rid of me,” Sergio said. He set her unsteady feet back on the ground.
She blushed, embarrassed by her actions. “Sorry,” she said.
He shook his head. “In another circumstance, I wouldn’t mind you clinging to me, but we have to go. Once Aldo and Victor know the assassins they sent failed, they’ll send more.”
He took her elbow, guided her outside. Jessie was careful to step over the body. She didn’t want blood or any incriminating evidence on any part of her. The chilly air enveloped them and she realized she forgot her jacket. No time to think about that.
“Can you run?” Sergio asked her. At her nod, they started on a slow jog. They were in an alleyway. Only a homeless man was present to witness their flight. Soon enough, they were on the street. She gripped Sergio’s arm. The curt nod he gave her steadied her. It occurred to Jessie she wouldn’t have known what to do if it wasn’t for his quick actions.
They bolted down the sidewalk. A passerby gave them a curious look, but people mostly went about their own business and ignored them. Two streets away, Sergio stopped. Jessie recognized his black vintage Mustang. He unlocked the car and slid into the driver’s seat. She joined him in the front.
“You can dump your bag in the back,” he said, starting the engine. Jessie did just that, then buckled her seat belt.
Once the car roared to life, she could relax a little. They drove past familiar streets. Soon enough, they entered the financial district ofOakheartCity. She recognized the road they were on. If he continued down this way, it would lead him to the highway.
“What am I doing?” she whispered to herself.
“Easy. You’re fighting to live.”
She finally looked at him. At the man who risked everything so she could get away. Something stirred inside her. She couldn’t name the emotion. Gratefulness? Worry? Doubt? What was Mr. Rossi going to do to Sergio? She didn’t think men like Mr. Rossi would easily forgive those who betrayed him.
“I’m sorry I dragged you into this. This is all my fault.”