The Hitman's Mark

22. Control

"Oh well," Val murmured, the frown evident in her voice.

They reached the front counter, and Matteo slid the heavy garment bag onto the marble desk between him and the young blonde woman. She eyed him carefully, as if she didn't quite trust him, before turning her attention to Val, who shouldered her way in front of Matteo.

The blonde attendant smiled at his principessa, although it didn't entirely reach her eyes. "A beautiful dress, Miss Romano," the girl complimented in her thick accent, nodding toward the ruby garment bag.

"I think so, too," Val replied, leaning her elbows on the white marble while she fished inside her wallet for Leonardo's credit card. "I'm so grateful for Annika's help. Will you tell her I said thank you?"

"Of course," the blonde cooed, tapping her obscenely long fingernails on the counter while she waited for Val's payment.

When Val finally found the Amex platinum, she handed it to the attendant, Inessa, according to her nameplate. Seconds before Inessa slid the card to complete the transaction, however, her phone buzzed twice on the countertop. Her bright blue eyes flickered to the screen immediately, like she'd been waiting all day for an important text.

She read the text, then casually returned her attention to the credit card machine. Again, before the platinum card could make it through the magnetic strip, Inessa paused. A frown tugged on her botox-filled lips.

"Looks like we've run out of receipt paper," she explained, placing Val's credit card back on the counter and flashing an apologetic smile. "Let me run and go get some from the back."

Matteo frowned. Something didn't feel right.

"Oh– that's okay," Val tried, waving her hand. "I don't need a receipt."

Inessa smiled again– too polite. Too ingenuine.

"I'm afraid it's Annika's shop policy. I'll be right back." Before she left, she wrapped her fingers tight around her cellphone.

Matteo narrowed his eyes as she walked toward the back of the boutique. Without missing a beat, she began typing away on her cell phone again, her fingers furious against the glass screen. He swore she walked with more speed – more urgency – than any typical shop clerk.

Val huffed, cradling her chin in her palm while leaning against the countertop. Her other fingers drummed impatiently against her credit card, no doubt eager to join Allison and Luca in the bookstore.

But Matteo's worries stemmed far beyond his concern for Allison and Luca's feelings. As more seconds passed without Inessa or Annika's presence in the boutique, his suspicions heightened. His eyes scanned the posh little store, realizing with sudden alarm that even the other customers had vacated the premises.

"Something's wrong," he murmured, immediately wrapping an arm around Val's bicep and tugging her back, closer to his chest. He glanced toward the back of the shop where Inessa had disappeared, half-expecting the strange young woman to re-emerge brandishing a weapon and a lupine smirk on her ugly mouth.

Val blinked up at him, the whites of her eyes expanded. "What do you mean?"

Matteo shook his head, further wrapping an arm around her waist, keeping her by his side. But he couldn't protect her if he didn't know which direction threatened them. He ground his teeth, one hand reaching toward the holster at his waistband.

And then he saw it. A large black SUV with windows tinted to an impossible shade of dark. It turned with reckless speed onto the little downtown street, nearly taking out a little old woman in the crosswalk in the process.

He barely had time to process the scene unfolding around them. The SUV slowed to an abrupt, violent stop in front of A&C Couture's main entrance, only a few parked cars and a sidewalk separating them. The windows rolled down, exposing men with cyrillic script inked across their faces and shaved heads. The barrels of two automatic rifles pointed directly at the shop. The Bratva.

"Get down!" Matteo barked, instinctively yanking Val's body behind him, hiding her from the floor length windows that left them defenseless.

In the same moment, chaos erupted.

Matteo tackled Val to the floor, flattening her small form to the white tile as glass exploded in the recognizable pattern of an automatic firearm. The relentless POP-POP-POP of bullets sprayed into the boutique, colliding with mannequins and walls. Soaring mere inches above Matteos' head.

Blood hammered between his ears, muffling the sounds of the battleground that surrounded them. Matteo kept his eyes clamped shut to protect against the shattered glass and debris, the entirety of his focus centered on the young woman beneath him. On her rapid breathing. The soft cry of alarm that escaped her lips when another round of bullets sprayed into the shop. Her warmth.

And then, just as quickly as it began, the gunfire stopped.

Tires screeched from beyond the ruined store front as their assailants made a quick escape. Sirens and screams rose in the wake of the echo of gunfire.

Finally, Matteo opened his eyes and immediately searched Val for any sign of injury, but he didn't rise from covering her. Not yet. Not when they weren't yet safe from another round of attack.

Glass crystals and shards haloed her chestnut waves, decorating her hair in a grim sort of fashion. A few of those shards had penetrated Matteo's own hands and forearms, scratching just the surface of his skin. Little beads of blood formed where his t-shirt failed to protect, but he felt nothing. No pain. Only adrenaline and relief.

Relief that Val's eyelids fluttered open, and her breathing remained rapid but strong. She gasped, tossing her head back and forth as she took in the carnage surrounding them. Panic began to seep into her hazel eyes as the initial shock faded.

"Stai bene?" Matteo breathed.

When she didn't immediately respond, he reached a bleeding hand toward Val's pale cheeks and turned her face toward him. A silent demand for her to answer him.

"Are you okay, principessa?" he repeated.

She nodded, the movement a bit erratic, but truthful. She hadn't been harmed. Thank God.

Matteo traced his thumb along Val's cheek, and the panic in her eyes calmed. She glanced down, taking deep, steadying breaths, then her eyes widened again.

"M-Matteo..." she whispered, her horrified gaze stuck on his shoulder.

His brows furrowed as he looked down at himself, toward the shoulder that had captured Val's attention. And then he felt it.

First, hot, sticky liquid seeped through his shirt, dripping down his arm and chest. The smell of iron amidst the thick smoke of gunpowder.

And finally... the distinct throb of severed muscle and burnt skin. The rising agony of a body realizing that a hole had been blasted through blood and bone.

He'd been shot.