Grinning, I whistled through my teeth and drove faster. The distance became smaller again.
Maybe it was instinct. Or a higher intuition. But I braked not a second too late, when the hunted man in front of me jerked the steering wheel. The car skidded and moved across the bridge. The steel side barriers were too weak to keep the car contained. It broke free, seemed to hover in the air for a second, and then flew down.
As soon as my car stood still, I yanked open the door and ran to the railing. Just in time to see the rental car splash downwards and fill with water.
Natale appeared next to me. Cursing, he hung himself over the railing.
"Wasn't a good idea to provoke him," I muttered.
"We have to get out of here," Vince shouted. He and Emilio hadn't even gotten out of the car. "Before the cops show up."
I didn't like it, but I couldn't afford another confrontation with Emilio. What if the guy survived? We would have to start our search for him all over again. If we even found out if he survived. And then there was still the possibility that it wasn't the Frenchman in the car at all.
I gritted my teeth and got back into the car. This time I was the one who drove away with squealing tires. Just in time, because I could already hear the first sirens.
8
Gia
"Your place is a mess," Dario said as he slammed my gym bag to the floor at my feet. The familiar smell of my home rose to my nostrils, but his statement considerably diminished my joy.
I crossed my arms. "Sorry. Not everyone can afford a luxurious apartment."
"That's not an apartment, that was a single room!" He sounded downright indignant that I even called such a thing an apartment. Yet well. It was my home. The place where I felt comfortable and safe.Safe. I said nothing.
"The Frenchman was in the apartment. He's looking for you," Dario continued. Even though this was not directly related to him, he wasn't earning himself any favors by saying it.
I couldn't believe that the guy had visited my apartment and thought he would find me there. Even if Dario hadn't insisted on bringing me here for my protection, I wouldn't have made the mistake of going back to my apartment. I wasn't stupid enough to be lulled into thinking he wouldn't have glanced at my wallet and ID.
"He made a mess of things there, too."
"Great. Is there any good news, too, or ?"
"I brought you your stuff," he said.
"That's nice, but somehow it doesn't make up for all the bad news."
"I've got more of that," Dario grumbled, dropping on the couch next to me. He took a comfortable position.
Casimiro had disappeared the second Dario had walked through the door. So he thought he alone could ensure both of our safety.
"I'm all ears," I replied, eager to hear what kind of story he was about to tell me.
"As I said, the Frenchman was in your apartment. After that, we were at the building where I thought the basement was, and at first it seemed like there was nothing there. But then someone took off in front of us, and there was a little chase that ended with the guy flying off the bridge in a rental car. Unfortunately, we couldn't wait until the police and paramedics got there to confirm his death and identity." The more he said, the more frustrated he sounded.
Apparently he was looking forward to making the acquaintance of the man who had kidnapped me.
"Now how are you going to make sure it was him?"
"We're going to let a few contacts play and hope that the files have been well kept. Until then, I guess you'll have to stay."
"I wonder who's going to clean up my apartment for me. I can imagine what it looks like there now. I'm sure someone will come up with the idea of breaking in and looking around in the next few days. After all, I haven't been home for a while."
"This is not an apartment," he repeated.
"Yes, it is, and it's mine. I'm not discussing this with you, mafia prince."
"At least you have your most important and valuable possession back."