CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE: WINTER
Shoutsringoutaround me, but my head spins as I try to figure out what is going on. I can still feel Vito’s arm wrapped around me, but I can’t hear Maixmo’s voice anymore.
A shot rings out and warm liquid splashes onto the side of my face.
The shouting gets closer.
The door is pulled open from behind me and I go sliding before Vito’s arm is tugging me back toward him. Pieces of glass slide off the top of my head and shoulders.
“Get the fuck out of the car!” Someone yells.
I lift my head slowly, opening my eyes. The first thing I see is our driver. His body is sagging to the side, just over the arm rest. His head is tilted back as blood drips from the bullet hole in the middle of his head.
Almost all the windows are shattered and when I look up at Vito, I see that there’s a trickle of blood dripping down his forehead. His jaw is clenched as he looks behind me and I can feel the presence of someone standing just behind me.
“I said get the fuck out!” The person shouts and I pick up on the slight accent.
Cartel.
“Winter, get out slowly,” Vito mutters. His arm moves from behind my shoulders. When his hand comes into view, I gasp. It’s covered in blood and there’s even a shard of glass sticking out of it. A piece of glass that probably would have been sticking in the back of my skull if he hadn’t put his hand over it to protect me.
“Out!” The voice shouts again.
I gulp, turning around and looking up at the man standing just outside of the door. He has a gun pointed right at my head.
Listening to Vito, I slowly climb out of the car, being careful not to cut myself on the glass. I have one foot out of the car when the guy is abruptly jerking me the rest of the way out. He grabs my shoulder, tossing me to the ground.
I cry out as agony shoots through my knees. Vito shouts something before he comes flying out of the car. The man with the gun is caught off of guard, his attention still on me. Vito gets the better of him and they go crashing to the ground. Vito lands on top.
The other man’s gun goes skidding across the ground and he reaches up, trying to grab Vito’s neck. Vito swats his hand out of the way, throwing his fist into his face with his good hand. The man reaches out, digging his fingers into Vito’s injured hand. Vito grits his teeth but he doesn’t give up ground.
I can see Vito’s gun sitting just beneath his suit jacket at his back but I know he can’t get to it without the other man being able take advantage.
I look over Vito’s shoulder, just past our car and fear washes over me as I find men getting out of the three cars that were following us. I’m guessing the man with the gun was in the car that t-boned ours.
The men getting out of the cars are all carrying guns and I know it’s only a matter of time before they’re on us.
I scramble across the ground, ignoring the burning sensation in my knees. My fingers lock around the fallen gun and I don’t even think as I aim it at the other man’s head. I wait until Vito’s hand is just out of the way as he pulls back to hit the man again and then I squeeze the trigger.
The shot lands true and Vito jerks back as blood splatters onto his face. He looks over at me, shock marring his features.
“We have to go,” I gasp out, my voice trembling. I point a finger in the direction the men are coming from.
Vito nods his head, climbing to his feet. He limps slightly and he sucks in a deep breath. He pulls his gun and reaches for me with his bad hand. I take his hand, keeping the gun in my other hand.
“This way,” Vito says, pointing to an alleyway. He drags me behind him, continuing to limp. I don’t know if his leg got hurt when the cars crashed or if it was when he tackled the other man, but my legs still have a hard time keeping up with him even as he’s impaired.
A shot flies just over our head and I duck down, almost tripping.
“Keep going,” Vito tells me as he pulls me around another corner.
Shots continue to ring out and the shouts are getting closer and closer to us. We turn down another alleyway and Vito cusses as it becomes clear that this is a dead end.
“Over here,” he says, pulling me behind a big, blue dumpster. He kneels down, pushing me behind him. I try to catch my breath as he peers around the dumpster.
It doesn’t sound like the cartel has entered this part of the alley yet, but I know it won’t be long.
“No matter what, you stay behind me,” Vito says, his breathing harsh.