Sweet Vengeance (2 page)

Everything
became distorted.  Time sped up, and yet moved at a snail's pace.

Before
she could react, pain ripped across her arm as Joey knocked her down.  She
grunted as they landed hard on the sidewalk, Joey covering her for protection. 
Tires squealed away from them, and then all was quiet again.

"Oh
my God, Joey!"  Her heartbeat went from zero to ninety in the space of a
second.  "We need to get out of here."  She waited for him to move,
to take her to safety, but he seemed as frozen from terror as she was. 
"Come on.  They might come back."

Fear
sluiced through her as Allie tried to move from beneath him.  "Joey, come
on."  Hot tears puddled in her eyes.  She pushed against his arm. 
Something wasn't right.  He was too heavy, too lifeless.  If she didn't get
help soon, he would die. 

With
a panic-filled shove, she managed to free herself.  Joey's beautiful face lay
against the cold sidewalk, his features relaxed.  She lifted a hand to clear
her eyes, but the action only made things worse.  She swiped and swiped with
shaky fingers, but couldn't get a grip on reality. 

"Joey?" 
Her lips trembled as she put a hand to his face.  "Please, Joey." 
She leaned her head close to his, hoping to hear a breath or a whispered word. 
"We're going to have a baby.  We need you."  If anything would wake
him up, that would.  "I would have told you yesterday."  Her words
broke off on a sob.  "I wanted this to be special."

No
. 
No
. 
No
. 
The words kept repeating in her head.  He was her family.  Her precious
future.  She'd lost her mother, and now she was losing the only other person
who'd ever truly loved her.

She
laid her head against his chest to listen for a heartbeat.  A warm wetness met
her cheek.  She jerked back.  The realization that his black T-shirt was
covered in blood was like a slap to her face.  She whisked her hand down her
cheek and recoiled from the dark red stain on her palm.  Only then did she
realize his open eyes hadn't blinked.

She
tried desperately to catch her breath.  "Oh my God.  Oh my God." 
Everything in her began to shake.  She needed help. 
Now
.

She
got to her knees as another car squealed around the corner.  Her world shifted
again.  Instinctively, she knew they weren't coming to help Joey.  Bright
headlights glared at her, trying to trap her with their brilliance. 

They
were back. 

Adrenaline
kicked in.  She pushed off the cement.  Pain shot through her palms as broken
glass sliced into her skin.  In a brief flash of a second, she turned to the
broken window of Newman's Jewelry, catching a glimpse of the gold band.  At a
moment when her world could end in a heartbeat, it seemed strange to notice the
wedding ring still sat upon its velvet pillow, untouched, with the shattered
display all around it.

Then
she ran.

Her
feet moved of their own accord, back down the alley.  One after the other, they
pounded on the pavement, keeping pace with the rapid beat of her heart.  Air
rushed past her face.  She'd never run so fast in her life.  Her arm ached
where she had landed on it, but she didn't stop, didn't think beyond her next
footstep.  Faster.  Faster.  She had to go faster.

But
it wasn't enough.

The
side street lit up as the car turned to follow her, growling as it leapt
closer.  If she could make it to the next corner, maybe she'd get away. 

An
ominous black car with dark windows screeched to a halt several feet ahead of
her.  It wasn't the green sedan whose occupants had shot Joey, but it seemed
just as dangerous. 

She
almost fell as she ground to a halt.  The back door of the car opened.  Before
she could see who emerged, she turned and sprinted back toward Joey.

"I'll
get her," someone yelled from behind.

She
swallowed a scream before sucking in a huge breath of air.  The sound of
running feet grew closer and closer.  This was it.  They had her.  Her life was
over.

Her
lungs deflated as a strong arm grabbed her around the waist, knocking her feet
from under her.  The harsh pavement rushed toward her face, but at the last
second, she was flipped, and she landed on her attacker.

Before
she could clamber off the big brute of a man, he was out from under her,
pulling her to her feet.  "I'm here to save you."  His rough voice
was close to her ear, and she aimed her fists in that direction.  He caught
them as though they were butterflies and pinned them to her sides. 

"Don't
fight me."

Again,
she heard another engine roaring toward them from behind.  She jerked her gaze
toward the oncoming lights, no longer able to comprehend in which direction lay
life and which meant death.  Her choice was taken from her as the brute tossed
her over his shoulder, nearly causing her to vomit.  Her stomach bounced violently
against his hard body for several steps, and then she was unceremoniously
thrown into the backseat of the black vehicle.

Before
her captor could get the door shut, several shots rang out from the approaching
car.  Allie screamed when bullets shattered the glass behind her.  Her attacker
slammed the door shut and shoved her to the floor as the driver screeched down
the darkened alley.

"Stay
down."  The harsh words came from the front seat, and she wished she could
get a glimpse of the driver.  But at the moment, she had no desire to put
herself in the line of fire.  She focused on the guy next to her, trying to
memorize his details so she could report them to the police.  But in the
darkness of the car, she could only make out short dark hair and muscles.  Lots
of muscles.  

It
was obvious whoever was in the car behind them wanted to kill them.  It might
not have been her first choice of places to be, but apparently, she was better
off where she was.  The driver swerved, adding to the nauseous feeling in her
stomach.  More bullets whizzed overhead and lodged themselves somewhere in the
car.

"Where
the hell is your gun?"  The driver yelled over his shoulder as he squealed
around a corner, causing Allie's head to press hard against the door behind
her.

"I've
got it," shouted the man next to her.  "Can't you be fucking
patient?  The bastard winged me in the arm."

Allie
gasped as the brute sat higher in the seat and fired off several rounds through
the broken back window.  Then he ducked down on the seat next to her.  Their
faces were only inches apart.  He watched her as she watched him.  She swore
she could feel his breath against her cheek.  Life and death.  They were in it
together.  "Who are you?"  She needed to know.

The
car swerved around another corner, but she couldn't look away from the man
lying next to her.

"It
doesn't matter.  Don't worry.  You're going to live."  He sat up again,
firing shot after shot.  Allie wanted to cover her ears, but she had one arm
pinned beneath her while the other hurt like hell from Joey knocking her down.

Through
the open back window, she heard tires shriek from the other car, followed by a
loud, resounding crash.

"I
hope you're dead, asshole."  The brute spit out each word into the
darkness of night, and then turned and fell against the seat next to her.

The
man behind the wheel slowed before turning another corner, and then everything
was quiet except the sound of the engine purring beneath them, speeding her
away from what was left of her tattered life.

"Get
us off the streets, Max.  The cops will be swarming soon."  The brute held
out a hand to her.  "It's okay.  You can get up now," he said, in a
gentler voice.

Allie
was beyond emotion.  For a moment, she wondered if she could trust the big man
next to her, and then she decided she didn't have it in her to care.  She tried
to get up.  Each movement sent a jab of pain spearing through her.  "I
can't.  I'm stuck."  She'd managed to get herself nicely wedged between
the front and back seats.

"Give
me your hand." 

The
sound of his voice soothed her, and she wanted to go to him.  Perhaps it was
because he offered her safety, or maybe she needed to feel a living body next
to her.  "Something's wrong with my arm.  It hurts to move it."  She
lifted her hand toward him, a burning pain coursing up her arm.  She gasped and
cradled it against her.  "I can't."

"Hell. 
Max, pull this beast over for a minute so I can get her off the floor."

"I'm
trying
to get us out of here before the cops flood the city." 
Although the shooting was over, tension still strung along each of Max's words,
belying the calm manner in which he drove.

"Pull
over." 

Apparently,
the brute was in command, because the car slowed to a stop.  The driver got
out, and Allie's head fell back as the door opened behind her.

Max
looked down into her eyes and smiled.  It wasn't a kind smile, though.  In
fact, there wasn't any emotion behind it at all.  He was a few years older than
her and wore a baseball hat backward that partially covered his sandy blond
hair.  She found him attractive in a powerful kind of way—sort of like a moth
might find a light bulb.  "Well, you've got yourself into a bind, haven't
you?" 

Was
there a sneer to his tone?  "I guess I have," she answered,
stiffening as he placed his hands under her armpits.  She wanted to remind him
she'd been forced into the car and onto the floor, but it might be best to not
make enemies at the moment.

"Quit
flirting with her, Max." 

She
shifted her gaze to the muscled man who knelt over her, and she wondered where
that remark had come from.  She didn't think Max had been flirting.  In fact,
if anything, he seemed annoyed he had to stop the car to help her. 

Her
rescuer's hands slipped to the underside of her bare legs.  He was a few years
older, too, and even better looking than Max.  His rough fingers grazed the
backs of her thighs and, once again, she found she couldn't look away from
him.  This time, the dome light in the car gave her a better look at his
features.  Dark hair, military short.  Stubble shadowed his jaw.  His lips were
set in a thin line, and a hard look hovered in his midnight, mesmerizing eyes. 

She
focused there as Max tightened his grip under her arms.  She needed the comfort
she'd found moments before when the shots had been whizzing past their heads. 

"You
got her?"  Her brute's gaze didn't waver from hers.

"Got
her," Max answered.

"Okay,
lift."

Allie
bit back a cry as the two men pulled her from between the seats.  "Oh,
God," she said as she finally sat upright on the backseat, grasping her
injured arm with her now free hand.  "It's—" 

She
pulled her hand away and gasped again.  The too-familiar sticky feeling
threatened to send her over the edge.  It was like Joey.  Just like Joey.  She
held her shaking, red-stained hand out in front of her as her eyes began to
blur.  Was it her blood or Joey's?  She suddenly remembered she needed to get
help for him.  "Joey's going to die."  She looked at the brute,
feeling more and more helpless.  "Am I going to die?"  

"Shit." 
The man next to her pulled her favorite black jacket down her arm as he
cursed.  "She's been hit." 

Why
had she worn that jacket anyway?  It had been so warm out.  She really hadn't
needed it.  And now it had a big gaping hole in the fabric.  Just like her
life.

The
inside of the car tilted, and she reached out, trying to grab something to
steady her.

Max
caught her hands, holding them.  "There's glass stuck in her," he
said, sounding as though he was talking through a tunnel. 

"Get
us out of here, Max.  She's going into shock." 

She
slipped toward the voice next to her as a car door slammed shut.

"I'm
on it, Jase."

Jase? 
She mumbled and winced as someone prodded her injured arm.  "Where's
Joey?"  She leaned against the body next to her, finding the comfort she'd
been searching for.  Warm arms circled around her, pulling her close.

It
was Joey.  He was here.  He'd keep her safe.  She let herself fade into
oblivion.

Jase
Tyler looked down at the dark-haired woman lying limp in his arms.  An
unwelcome feeling of helplessness gripped him.  It was something he hadn't felt
since he'd watched his family struggle for their lives.  Something that had no
place in his world now.

Strength. 
Power.  Cunning.  Those were the key words he lived by.  Not weak and
vulnerable.  They would get him dead.   

If
he were smarter, he would have left the woman on the street, an unfortunate
casualty of being involved with known mobsters.  Things like that happened in
their city.  He'd been able to keep his edge the last couple of years by
remaining detached.  The last thing he needed was to claim responsibility for a
woman who reminded him he had a soul.  But he'd be damned if he'd let the
Trasatti family claim another life.