Page 105 of Shades of Grey & Gold

The image of Max smirking at me in that green skirt after ordering her adventurous drink flies across my memory.

Gio has her.

She’s safe.

My father would have been out the door already. Nico would have been in a car, chasing.

Every instinct I was raised with is screaming at me to move, to pursue, to respond with equivalent force and do it now before the trail goes cold. And to hit them back harder.

Instead, I move through all of them anyway. Because this is the difference.I am different.

This is the line I decided on years ago when I chose to walk away. You don’t leave people on the floor. You don’t step over the civilians to get to the war. You check. You make sure. The innocent are not collateral damage.

I got pulled back into this when my father died, but I will not be roped into senseless killing and discarding witnesses and civilians like they mean nothing.

The older man nods at me from behind the napkin. He’ll be okay.

I straighten up, releasing the breath I was holding.

My mind clears a bit knowing no one was badly injured in what very well was a show of force just for the Renzettis, just for me. I turn in a circle, assessing the damage one more time.

My eyes fall on the hallway to the back door.

Gio has her.

She’s safe.

They went out the back and Gio is good, Gio is careful, Gio knows what he’s doing, and she is probably already a block away by now, probably already—

Two shots.

From behind the café.

I am moving before the echo stops.

Gun out, safety off, through the service hall, past the kitchen where a cook is pressed against the wall with both hands up—I don’t stop, I don’t slow.

My hand hits the crash bar of the back door and cold air hits my face and I’m in the alley and—

Chapter Thirty-Five

Max

Glassisintheair, and Gio grabs me by the arm. I hear Cal’s voice but don’t register his words.

I look up but his eyes are trained on the shattering bay window in the front of the café as glass shatters around us. I feel his hand slide from its hold on my waist as Gio pulls me, and see the gun that was previously safely tucked under his jacket already in hishand, ready.

Gio covers me, gun drawn in his other hand and I scream Cal’s name again, try to turn to grab him to come with us but Gio doesn’t let me stop. He pulls me down the service hallway and palms the crash bar of the door and we spill into cold air that smells like old oil and river wind.

Two steps, tops, and we both realize the alley isn’t empty.

A man peels off the brick he was leaning on beside the door and shoves the barrel of his gun, black and cold, to my head.

“Easy.” The word comes out of Gio’s mouth like he’s talking to a wild animal, his own handgun already extended and raised.

The metal of the man’s gun rubs the skin at my temple.

It’s cold.