And putting his back to me.
Now.
If I can do this, I can run back to the club before anyone notices I’m gone. I don't even need an escape plan. Before I even realize it, the gun is out and I flick the safety off. I wrap my finger around the trigger, raise the gun with both arms and aim, right between Dario's shoulder blades.
Draw a breath.
Hold it.
Bang.
Except the gun doesn't bang. Just a dull click.
Dario whirls at the sound, staring at me in surprise.
I draw the trigger again.
Click. Click. Click.
No. Jesus, not now. What did I do wrong?
He laughs. Literally laughs in my face as he walks towards me. “Really, Alessa. That was your plan?”
Click.
Then he's there, and yanks the pistol from my hands. I let it go, my tears already starting to blind me. With quick, practiced motions, he flips it around, examines it, slides the magazine out, pops it back in, then raises it until his hand is holding the gun just past my head.
He pulls the trigger, once, twice, three times, all the way until the magazine is empty, and with each pull, the gun goes off. With a scream I cover my ear but it’s like I've stuck my head into a church bell.
Dario throws the empty, smoking gun aside. It clinks against the wall of the building we're next to before landing on the sidewalk. “The next time you're going to shoot me, make sure you know what the fuck you're doing. Didn't Daddy teach you anything? Get in the fucking car, and don't make me pull my own fucking gun.”
“Oh my God, Dario, I—”
He flips his jacket back, exposing his under the arm holster. “Go!”
I screwed up. I had the opportunity to end all this and I screwed it all up. What do I do now? I need to get away, but there's no way Dario will let me go. Not now. Especially not now.
“Get in the fucking car, Alessa. Don't make me tie you up and throw you in the back.” He points and glares. “I'll forgive you this too. I like that you have spirit, baby, but I'm not going to let you fuck all this up for us. Not here. Not now, not ever. We'll figure this out.”
If he restrains me, I'm definitely not getting away from him. I draw a deep breath to steel myself, pray that the guys figure out something's up, and that Emily and Bea are okay looking after Izzy until I'm back.
If I make it back.
I climb into the car and wince when he slams the door shut after me.
When he gets in, he smiles, like we're just going for a picnic or something. “Fasten your seatbelt, amore mio. I wouldn't want you to get hurt.” He starts the car, revs it once and puts it in drive. “Guess we'd better get out of here before someone comes about the gunshots. Hang on.”
He floors it, shooting out of the alley and onto the main road, putting the Screaming Eagles compound and all the guys farther and farther behind me.
I fucked up.
31
HAWK
Bear tosses a pistol onto the table. “We found this and tire tracks.” Snark nods.
We all heard the gunshots and thought the fucking worst.
Church is held in the common room, and we're all here to figure out what the fuck we're going to do. Me and the rest of the Cleanup Crew. Eagle-eye. King, Wild Child and Hero, while Emily hangs out in the back with Miriam, the two of them keeping an eye on Izzy. And the whole rest of the club, spread out on couches and chairs, or leaning up against the wall. Chef's behind the bar, but no one's drinking right now, and he's leaning his weight on the bar while paying attention.
It's a good thing the space is big, because the walls are already feeling a little close, and more are coming in while we speak. I love the club, but there's a reason I don't spend a lot of time at the fucking parties. Give me a midnight ride on empty streets any day.
But today's it's too fucking important to stay away.
I look at the gun, then pick it up to make sure. “It's mine. What the fuck was it doing out there?”
“I don't know,” says Viking as he turns to face a very scared looking Beatrice, who's looking up at him with big eyes while she's wringing her hands. We haven't tied her up—yet—but she's gotten a pretty clear message about what's going to happen if she even thinks about getting out of the chair we've put her in. “But maybe you can tell me?”
“I swear, I didn't know about this. I don't know what's happening. Alessa hasn't told me anything.”
Bear bristles like he's going to say something, but I hold my hand up. He's protective and he's fierce, but we all know whose job it is to do interrogation around here. Pushing Viking aside, I straddle the coffee table in front of her, then sit down on it. We're so close our knees are almost touching, and she has nowhere to pull away to. My gun's still in my hand, and she's looking at it with just about the right amount of terror. She should be.