Page 34 of Forbidden War (Forbidden 2)
“GUN!” she yells.
I drop to the floor of the car on pure instinct at the same time an eardrum-shattering pop fills the air, followed by exploding glass. Shards fall over me, something wet slashing across my cheek and along my neck. There’s the sound of return shots, shouting, all of it deafening.
What the hell is happening? My body goes cold and tingling, darkness closing in the edges of my sight. I smell copper and something burning. Whipping my head to the right, my world suddenly turns to slow motion.
Jessica’s body is crumpled forward onto the floor, her limbs at impossible angles, her sunset-colored hair turning almost black with seeping blood.
“Jessica!”
The squeal of tires. Gravel pinging the car. The deafening white noise of my pulse in my ears.
Hard breathing. It’s me. I’m breathing. I’m gasping…I’m struggling to fill my lungs.
“FUCK!”
As I inch across the floor, Jessica’s slumped body fills my vision. Her hair falls over her face, but she’s…not moving. Her blood wets the floor, my arms, my neck, my face. My hair. Something stings my eyebrow, blood running into my eyes.
“Jessica? Fuck. Fuck!”
“Marco!” I hear Dante shouting.
“Mr. Bellanti! Mr. Bellanti! Are you okay?” It’s the driver’s voice, now, but I don’t even look up as the back door of the limo flies open.
I touch Jessica’s shoulder and give a small shake, even though I know she’s gone. She’s more than gone. Jesus fucking Christ.
Arms are pulling me out of the vehicle and I stumble out onto the gravel drive, falling to my knees. I’m staring down at the blood on my hands, ears ringing, breath coming hard. Someone runs over, another car pulls up. I see Dante’s shoes in front of me. Two men are calling out. I don’t understand what anyone is saying. My mind is blocked, frozen, a black hole.
Someone shot Jessica. Someone shot into my fucking car. Did they mean to kill me, or Dante? Both of us? Or is Sergio Bruno so furious that he was actually trying to kill Karina?
My stomach heaves and I fall forward, palms planted on the gravel as I gasp for air.
“Mr. Bellanti—” someone says.
“Call Armani.” The words tumble out, sounding far away. “Somebody call Armani!”
Sirens wail in the distance, growing closer. Around me I hear people talking. The smell of blood and body tissue and fluids cling to me.
Snap out of it, Marco. Snap the fuck out of it!
But I can’t.
Someone shot Jessica.
And I’d bet any amount of money they mistook her for my wife.
