Chapter 7 - IN THE CROSSFIRE
The ambush happened three days later.
Dante had to attend an emergency meeting with his capos across town to secure their loyalty against Caruso’s deep pockets. Against his better judgment, he brought Alara in his convoy, refusing to let her out of his sight.
They were crossing the Wabash Avenue Bridge when a semi-truck suddenly swerved, blocking the road ahead. A second truck boxed them in from behind.
“Ambush!” Enzo roared from the front seat.
Automatic gunfire ripped through the night air, shattering the reinforced glass of their SUV. Dante immediately threw himself over Alara, pressing her down into the floorboards, covering her body entirely with his own.
“Keep your head down!” he shouted over the deafening roar of bullets hitting the armor plating.
The sheer weight of him, the smell of gunpowder and his expensive cologne, overwhelmed her senses. He was risking his life to shield her. The realization hit her harder than the bullets hitting the steel doors.
Enzo rammed the SUV forward, smashing through the barricade in a sickening crunch of metal. They careened off the bridge and into the labyrinth of Lower Wacker Drive, losing their pursuers in the underground darkness.
When they finally arrived at a secondary safe house, Dante pulled Alara out of the car. She was shaking uncontrollably, her hands covered in blood.
“You’re bleeding,” she choked out, looking at his shoulder.
“It’s a graze. I’m fine.” Dante locked the door behind them and turned to her. He framed her face with his bloodied hands. “Are you hurt? Tell me you’re not hurt.”
“I’m fine,” she sobbed, the adrenaline crashing.
May you like
Dante let out a breath he seemed to have been holding since the bridge. Without thinking, he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. It wasn’t a gentle kiss. It was desperate, fierce, born of gunpowder and survival.
Alara didn’t flinch. For the first time in her life, she kissed a man back with everything she had, tasting copper, salt, and absolute safety.
