Francesca moaned, struggling to get out of the asshole’s grip.
“You’re a bastard,” I hissed then gave the bastard a hard stare. “She wasn’t a part of this.” I eased the unknown girl to the ground, realizing I’d underestimated the situation.
“She was very much a part of this. Now, we can get down to business.”
“And exactly what business is that?”
“Finishing what was started seven years ago,” he stated defiantly.
With that, I was looking down a barrel of a gun. Everything happened in a split second, but between Francesca’s increased struggle and his surprised response, I had a split second to power off two shots. The man went down hard, but his hand remained wrapped around Francesca’s wrist, the force yanking her precariously close to the ten-story drop-off.
A blip of movement caught my attention the second I dove for her. Someone else was in the picture. Hearing the pop, pop, pop of gun spray whizzing in God damn slow motion dragged out the protective beast from deep within. As the assassin rolled, so did she.
Right over the edge.
I dropped hard, managing to grab one of her legs. Even with a hard jerk, I only managed to pull her a few inches. Fuck! What the hell?
Screaming hysterically, Francesca was fighting hard, trying to slam her hands against the exterior of the building to gain traction. “Let go of me.”
I could just make out the fact the bastard was still connected, one hand firmly planted around her wrist. The other was flailing in the wind.
I heard another series of pops and anticipated a rush of pain, but with the adrenaline skyrocketing in my body, I refused to give a shit. All I could think about was saving her. Saving the woman, I’d fallen in love with.
“Hold on, I’m going to get you.”
“Don’t let me fall, Michael. Please,” she pleaded, hissing and twisting.
“Don’t do that.” I used every ounce of strength trying to pull her up. Please God, don’t let her fall.
“Need a hand?”
Hearing Dominick’s deep voice was both a relief and an irritant. “Took you long enough.”
“Had a little issue to contend with.” Dominick threw his arms over the edge. “I’ll make him get off.”
Pop. Pop.
Francesca wailed, her body shaking.
“Jesus. Tough motherfucker.” Dominick was prepared to shoot the assassin again when I felt the weight slip away.
I dragged her back, gathering her into my arms as I scooted away from the edge, taking gulping breaths.
“Oh, my God. Oh…” She clung to me. “You found me.”
“It’s okay. You’re okay.” I took several deep breaths, scanning the area in case there were other assassins.
Francesca lifted her head and slid her hand to cup my face. “Thank you. I’m so sorry. I just… She called and I believed and…”
For a few seconds, all time stood still as the tidal wave of emotions rocketed through me. Crushing her mouth, I allowed all the pent-up anger, the fear and frustration to flow. The passion that erupted was more powerful than before and all I could think about was how much I loved her.
She moaned into the kiss, parting her lips as I captured her tongue. I could feel her ragged heartbeat, could smell the remaining terror within her. No one was ever going to get the chance to harm her again.
When I broke the intimate moment, I exhaled then whispered, “I thought I’d lost you.”
“You didn’t.”
I glanced over at Dominick, shaking my head.
Dominick remained on his stomach for a few seconds before climbing to his feet. “You all right, buddy?”
I brushed my hand through her hair, glaring up at him. “Yeah. I’ll live. Glad you could make it.” Dominick had taken out the other shooter. I knew he was the only man I could completely trust. There had to be a mole in the organization and one other than Louis Saltori.
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he said, grinning. “Francesca?”
“And you’re Dominick Lugiano,” she answered.
He pulled us both to our feet.
“Careful with her. She’s a spitfire.” I walked us away from the opening, kicking the other shooter until I could see his face. The same expensive clothing.
“Did you figure out what all this is about?” he asked as he held the assailant’s weapon in his hand. “Beretta. Nice piece. Expensive.”
“Yeah, that fits. I have no idea at this point. Dante Massimo is the mastermind. One of the assholes mentioned finishing the hit they’d attempted several years before. Doesn’t make any sense to me.” It was something I would need to ask my father about.
“The Massimos were responsible for the hit years ago?” he asked, shoving the gun into his pocket.
“No one claimed responsibility but there were no signs of a foreign interference.”