I imagine him asking, “Would you like to give a try? See how pure it is?”
She looks him over twice before stepping forward and taking the knife from him. She drops her head, her red hair curtaining her face, and sniffs hard right before pinching her nose and then knocking her head back.
“Wow,” she mouths. Her lips move again, but I’m not sure what she’s saying. She grips Ruben’s shoulder, and he looks sideways at her hand before frowning.
Now.
Now is the time!
Ruben glances at one of his men, who steps forward and presses a gun into one of Yessica’s guard’s head. Her eyes grow wide as Ruben says something.
And when he says his final word, I know exactly what that word is. Even without the binoculars, I would know what he’s just said to her.
With her eyes so wide and her face so struck with horror, there’s only one word—one name—that will shake her so hard to the core.
“Jefe.”
41
GIANNA
Just as that name is said, her guard is shot in the back of the head and Draco drops his hand, shouting for them to go.
All of his men hop onto the walkway, and bullets start flying.
So many bullets.
So much yelling and barking.
Ruben dashes for the boat ahead of him, two of his guards covering his back and shooting down two more of her men. The rest of them are still out there, but three of them are taken down by Yessica’s men, one keeping her behind him, making it hard for anyone to get to her.
“Fuck! I can’t get a good shot! I need to go out there!” Clark barks.
“No—you heard what he said! They’ve got it!”
“Shit!”
I understand his urge. I want to do the same, but I’m safer here.
The bullets are loud, bouncing off the boats and echoing, drifting with the wind. I watch Draco the most. He’s running behind his men, but several of them are shot down by Yessica’s.
Draco keeps running, going for his target.
Going for her…until…
A gun goes off.
The bullet hits someone close.
Someone important.
A hat falls off, the body crumpling to the ground.
I panic, watching Emilio go down, too.
“Patanza,” I hear Clark gasp. He drops his gun and makes a mad dash through the tall grass, his shotgun in front of him. “Run, Gia! Get back underground!” Clark yells.
My breathing accelerates, my fingers going numb around my gun. I keep the binoculars up, looking at Draco, who’s glaring down at his best guard and then his manager, Emilio.
Draco picks his head up to find the culprit, and I look with him.
I see her standing next to two of her guards with a smoking gun aimed in his direction. A smile stretches across Yessica’s lips and then…she runs.
42
GIANNA
He told me to run.
He doesn’t’ want me out there. I should know better. I can’t do this to myself—to him. My future . . . my life . . .
But if I don’t run . . . if I stay—everything could be at risk. I take a step back, breathing harder, my stomach churning. I peer through the binoculars, searching for her again. She’s getting away. She can’t get away! If she does, this will never end.
Fuck running.
I can’t just stand by and let her go.
In a flash, the binoculars hit the ground.
My gun is in the air, pointed ahead of me as I push and shovel my way through the tall grass. Some of it slaps me in the face, but I don’t stop, not until I reach the clearing. Breathing frantically, I look to my left and see Draco going toe-to-toe with two of her guards. He punches one in the throat and then shoots him in the crotch, turning rapidly to face the other one, who has a pocketknife in hand, swinging it and trying to cut him.
I look ahead, past him, and spot red hair flailing. She’s running hard and fast in her heels, back to her yacht.
“Go! Go! Go!” I hear her shout to whoever’s on board. “Start it up! Hurry!”
I run faster. Past Clark trying to pick a barely breathing Patanza up in his arms to drag her away from the shootout. Past Emilio who has a bullet in his head.
Even past Draco, who has just now taken down the other guard with the pocketknife he tried slicing Draco with. Ruben’s boat has sailed already, now in the middle of the ocean with three of his men keeping watch.
Yessica’s boat starts to pull away.
No.
Fuck that.
She is not getting away again!
I won’t make it to the dock she’s at. I spot another one with a longer walkway and I take it, boots clomping on wet wood, my gun locked in hand, my lungs tight and filling with air, working overtime, despite the clench in my gut and the rattle in my head.
Her boat is close. Bullets go off again ahead of me, but none hit me. I keep going.