Don't Mask, Don't Tell

Chapter 44

"Can't find good help these days." The man shakes his head, letting out a sharp laugh that fails to reach his unforgiving eyes. Snagging the dirty martini I refused from him, he flicks the olive onto the floor and tosses it back. He downs the entire drink in one gulp. "Unfortunately, we can't pick our family."

"I'm sure he feels the same," I mumble under my breath, louder than I intended.

His amused grin disappears. The pit in my stomach spreads as his expression hardens. Based on the sudden atmosphere shift, this man doesn't allow people to speak to him like I just did.

Do I have a death wish?

Slowly, he stands from the bar stool, not saying a word. My mouth goes dry. He buttons his suit jacket while his cold eyes remain locked on mine. Leaning in close enough for his warm breath to prickle my neck, he whispers, "Have a safe night, Olivia."

The color drains from my face. Maybe he overheard Liza say my name? Or Bjorn?

You're being paranoid, Liv.

I try to reassure myself. Convince myself I am in fact paranoid, but as the man strolls away, he looks over his shoulder one last time and meets my stare. "Give Mr. Carrington my best." A contemptuous snort leaves his lips before he vanishes into the crowd.

Holy fucking shit.

"We need to leave right now!" I grab my best friend's arm, yanking her off a stool. Tossing several twenties on the bar, I pull her towards the exit. When I share every detail about the man from the bar with our security team, they rush us to the two SUVs parked around back.

"Pezzo di merda," Bjorn curses, slamming a fist into the car door. "The tires are flat."

My heart pounds, hands turning clammy. The horrifying reality of our situation sets in. 'Have a safe night, Olivia.'

This is bad. Really fucking bad.

"Your car's parked on seventh," Eliza chimes in. She's always the more level-headed one. Rational where it counts. "That's just a block away."

"Si. We go get it, but stay close." Bjorn points at the packed sidewalk before interlocking his arms with mine and Eliza's. "We've got nothing to worry about. Everything ok."

I can't help but wonder if Bjorn's comforting thought is meant to reassure us or himself. Either way, it isn't working for me. The rush of adrenaline flowing through my body can't even mask the blistering pain my four inch heels are causing, let alone how scared shitless I am.

Deep breaths.

Spotting my bright red '96 Ford Taurus beneath a street light helps ease my mind. Rosie might have a lot of miles under her belt and is definitely not my first choice in a crisis, but she's a loyal bitch.

"I've had too many to drive," I confess, pulling out my sequined clutch. The keys jangle as I hand them to Bjorn.

He shakes his head and lifts his shirt, exposing a revolver holstered to his hip. "If they follow, I can't be driving."

Holy shit. Is this my fucking life now?!

Eliza huffs and snatches the key ring out of my hand, unfazed or faking it well. I tug at the passenger door, eventually getting it to unstick and hop in. The security team can barely fit three men in the back, so the others quickly hail one of the passing cabs to follow.

After several attempts to get Rosie to turn over, the engine finally ignites, coughing out a dark cloud of smoke.

That's my girl.

"I know I've said how much I hate this shitty car." Eliza snorts. "But if it gets us out of a situation for once instead of getting us into one, I'll be eternally fucking grateful."

Thinking back to all the times this car has well and truly fucked us, I burst into laughter and she joins in. Maybe it's because we're both freaking the hell out or it's because this situation is so unbelievably fucked up, but either way, we can't stop laughing. We maneuver through the late-night traffic, zipping past a blur of tall buildings while trying to regain our composure. My cheeks and stomach ache as a soberness settles in.

The cartel targeted us tonight.

A weighted silence fills the space. Bjorn takes a moment to give Tony a call to figure out what our next move is. From how it sounds on our end, Tony believes this was only a scare tactic. However, he wants us to meet at his place just to be safe.

"Did we lose your guys at that last light?"

Bjorn looks over his shoulder and waves Eliza on. "They catch up at next one."

She nods and continues towards Tony's restaurant. I study the rear view mirror, waiting for the yellow cab to reappear, but it never does. Light after light, nothing. The security team isn't anywhere to be found. Bjorn tries calling them, but no one picks up. My heart drops to my stomach.

Blinding LED lights shine into our vehicle at the next traffic stop as a black SUV with dark tinted windows materializes from a vacant side street. Eliza doesn't hesitate. Dropping the clutch, she shoves the gas pedal to the floor and runs the red.

Picking up speed, the Expedition whips around us, now parallel to the passenger side of our car. They roll down their windows and my breath hitches in my throat. The city glow illuminates a familiar face.

The man from the bar.

"Figlio di Troia." Bjorn swears under his breath. "There's too many of them."

"I thought they were only trying to scare Liv. Why are they still following us?" Eliza asks, her voice starting to break.

"Not now. Just drive!"

She does as Bjorn says, racing like hell down the road. Attempting to ditch the car, she weaves through backroads, but to no avail. They're keeping pace.

Now feels like a good time to panic.

After several frantic turns and a side street later, we finally lose them. Thank fuck. I drag in a sharp lungful of air and try to catch my breath. By the sounds of the ragged panting coming from the driver's seat, Eliza is, too. She softly smiles as I give her knee a reassuring squeeze, then eases the car through the intersection.

Our brief moment of peace is interrupted by the sound of screeching tires. Our tires. Eliza slams on the brakes, but she's too late. Terror's written all over my best friend's face as she points behind me and screams, "Olivia!"

Headlights reflect off her dilated pupils as metal crunches in around me. A loud pop echoes in my head and a darting pain shoots through my body like I've been kicked in the chest. The car spins until it smashes into something hard, abruptly halting. The smell of burnt rubber stings my nostrils.

Is this how I die?

My words catch in my throat. I fight to keep my eyes open, tears pricking through rapid flutters of my lids. I can't hold out any longer. A blood curdling scream erupts from the driver's seat just as the world around me blurs at the edges, then fades to black.