6

Vincenzo's POV

For someone who thought I was here to hurt her, Raella was being awfully bold.

In most of my business dealings, people were begging, pleading. There were heads bowed, hands clasped, knees bent, and plenty of tears. Maybe some accidental pants-wetting on especially pathetic days.

But Raella? She lifted her chin and planted all one hundred and thirty pounds of herself in front of me.

Then I saw it.

A red sniper’s dot in the center of her chest.

I moved before I even thought about it. Dipping my shoulder, I charged, wrapping my arm around her waist and pulling her close. My other hand instinctively cradled the back of her head.

She started to scream, but the air whooshed out of her as we hit the ground. I took the brunt of the fall. My knuckles dug into the hard tile, splitting open.

“What the hell are you doing?” she shrieked. “Get off me—let me up—”

“Don’t fucking move!”

I threw my arm across her chest, pinning her down.

And then the room exploded.

Windowpanes advertising dulce de leche crepes, southwest egg scrambles, and oversized enchiladas shattered, raining glass and dust over us. I threw myself over Raella, shielding her from the blast, even as pain sliced through my back from the glass.

For a moment, chaos reigned.

Then, it all went eerily quiet.

Raella was tucked into my chest. She had been terrified of me a second ago, but now her face was buried in my shirt, her hands gripping the fabric like she was drowning and I was her lifeline.

“I think it’s over.”

My voice broke the silence, and she peeked out from under my arm, eyes wide as she looked at the glass-covered floor. “Was that a bomb?”

“Sniper.”

She choked on the word. “A sniper. A sniper was going to… Holy shit. You saved my life.”

“Don’t get too deep into your ‘thank you’ speech. The shooter’s still out there.” The realization had her curling against me again.

I pushed up on my aching knee and offered her my hand. She took it, slipping her fingers into mine as we crawled away from the windows, further into the booth.

She leaned against the seat next to me. She wasn’t crying like most women would be. Not a tear in sight.

The adrenaline was wearing off, and without the distraction of her body pressed against mine, anger started bubbling in my chest. “What the hell are you mixed up in?”

She turned to me, confused. “You think this is because of me?”

"No one would target me in a dump like this. I started thinking you might’ve lied to me about more than just your name."

I had plenty of enemies, but none of them were sloppy enough to shoot up a restaurant full of civilians in the middle of the day. There was something missing from the story.

"I lied about my name, but not about this. No one is after me."

Either she was lying, or she was wrong. I didn’t have time to figure out which one. Not yet.

"Are you okay?" I finally asked.

She looked at me, eyes narrowed. “What?”

I repeated the question slowly, as if she needed extra time to process every word. “Are. You. Okay?”

“I heard you, but… Yes.” She ran a hand over the back of her head, checking for damage. “Yeah, I’m okay. Are you?”

“I am perfect.”

“Don’t we all know it,” she muttered under her breath.

I ignored her, flipping onto my knees just as the back door opened. My hand instinctively moved to the gun at my hip, but then I heard Lorenzo’s voice.

“Vincenzo?”

Good. He was still alive.

“Over here. Do you have eyes on anyone?”

“Working on it,” he replied. “Whoever it wis, they aren’t targeting anyone outside. They are going for the windows. Stay put, we’re clearing the perimeter.” Then, he was gone, back outside.

“We are the targets?” Raella asked, still curled up against the side of the booth. Her knees were pulled to her chest, arms wrapped around her legs. Her wide green eyes were fixed on me.

If she’d been anyone else, I might’ve put a bullet in her head. She was hiding something, and whatever it was, it was making me a damn target.

But she wasn’t anyone else. She was…

Hell, I didn’t know who the hell she was. Not really.

I leaned forward, resting my elbow on my knee, and met her gaze head-on. “Now’s the time to come clean, Raella.”

Her cheeks flushed. “We already played that game.”

I rolled my eyes. “If you’ve got enemies, now’s the time to spill. Your life could depend on it.”

“I don’t have any enemies,” she shot back. “Unless you count yourself.”

Fair point.

I still hadn’t figured out what I was to her.