Gian (Trassato Crime Family #1)(27)

He glanced over his shoulder. “Uh-huh.”

“Gian, what’s the matter? Are you mad at me? Did I ruin everything?” I cataloged my conversations at dinner. “Did I say something stupid? Your family hated me, didn’t they?”

My shoulders drooped under the weight of the self-created disasters infecting my life. Gian’s dad had said exactly five words to me all night—“It’s nice to meet you.”

Dinner conversation wasn’t much better. His uncle’s early departure set the tone of the celebration. Clearly, he found me wanting, and everyone else agreed with his assessment. Everyone bowed and scraped around him like he was some sort of king. The instant that thought floated through my mind, the pieces of the puzzle clicked together, refusing to be buried under layers of excuses any longer.

Dominick wasn’t merely Gian’s uncle—he was the head of the Trassato crime family. The same one people whispered about in hushed murmurs with an equal measure of awe and disgust. While Gian and Carmela had never confirmed or denied anything, the writing was on the wall.

Panic wrapped around my ribcage like a tourniquet. A gust of air whooshed out of my lungs. Needles of fear pricked at my skin like thousands of poison-tipped arrows. The thudding of my heart drowned out the sound of the radio.

Holy shit.

No.

No.

No.

This isn’t real.

Trembling, I covered my mouth with my hand.

“Evie, are you listening to me?” Gian’s voice snapped me out of the ocean of tragedy I’d been drowning in.

“What?” I rotated toward him. One hand white-knuckled the steering wheel while the other clawed at his hair. His eyes glittered with menace. His lips were pinched. “What’s wrong?”

“Open the f*cking glove box and hand me the gun.”

My stomach twisted into a knot. “The gun? What do you need a—”

His body bristling with violence, he slammed his hand against the dash, and I flinched. “Dammit! Don’t question me. Just do what I ask for once.”

Unable to get my hands to cooperate, I fumbled with the latch on the glove box.

“Make this stop,” I pleaded to no one in particular.

A car hit our bumper. A loud crash echoed through my ears, and my neck whipped forward, then backward, slamming against the headrest.

Gian shoved my head down and flipped open the glove box. The shiny metal of the gun blurred through the air like a shooting star. I pinched my eyes shut. My muscles tensed, anticipating. Dreading. Fearing.

Bang.

The rear driver’s side window shattered. Glass showered the top of my head.

Bang.

Engines revved, and my heart escalated right along with it.

Bang.

Tires squealed.

A loud, piercing noise echoed through the car, and it took me a second to realize I was screaming. I slapped a hand over my mouth, not wanting to call attention to myself. With my head braced against my thighs, I stared blankly out the window, peering at the smattering of stars playing peek-a-boo with the heavily clouded night sky.

The car whipped around the corner, and my butt slid across the seat. My shoulder bumped into the leather-upholstered door. The second I lifted my head, Gian sideswiped a parked car. The side mirror exploded into tiny shards of glass. They glittered like diamond dust in the moonlight.

“Stay down!” he yelled, shoving my head down again.

“What’s going on?” I asked, my heart hammering hard enough to split open my ribcage.

“Exactly what you think.” He tossed his phone in my lap. “Call Tony. He’s in my favorites.”

The phone slipped out of my hand and fell to the floorboard. Blindly searching, my hand scoured the rubber floor mat. The seatbelt bit into my flesh with every twist and turn. Finally, the tips of my fingers brushed against the solid rectangle. I lifted it, slid my finger across the screen and called Tony.

One ring.

Two rings.

“What’s up?”

“It’s Evie.” My voice sounded like I had swallowed a cup of acid.

The car hopped up on the curb, and we narrowly missed a stop sign. My teeth clacked together, grazing the tip of my tongue when Gian yanked the steering wheel to the right and off the sidewalk. I clutched the side panel on the door, the coppery taste of blood hitting my tongue.

“Evie? Evie? Are you still there?”

“Yeah. Somebody shot at us and crashed into Gian’s car.”

“What the f*ck?” he yelled. “Where are you guys?”

“Tell him to meet us at my house in twenty minutes,” Gian said, his gaze zigzagging between the road in front of us and the rear view mirror.

“Did you hear what he said, Tony?”

“Yeah. Yeah. I’m on it.” When the line went dead, I dropped the phone into my lap. A warm liquid trickled down my hand. Transfixed, I stared at the blood dripping from my fingers. It looked like ink in the dim light of the car.

Gian’s hand swept over the top of my hair. “I think we lost them. You can sit up now.”

I didn’t move. I couldn’t. I stared sightlessly at my hand, my breaths choppy and my mind blank. Tears dripped from my chin, and I realized I was crying.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

I jerked my head rather than answering because there was no simple answer. My mind buzzed with too many jumbled emotions to communicate.