I crack open my eyes.
His gaze is hard, and he looks completely in control of himself. “I’m going to get us out of here. As long as you do exactly what I say, you’ll be safe. Do you understand?”
My ragged breath puffs out against his lips. “Yes.”
“Good.” Rafaele snakes an arm around my waist and rolls us toward the closest wall. I clutch onto his strong body, fear and adrenaline mixing inside my veins as gunshots ring out around us.
When my back hits the wall, he lets go of me and moves to a crouching position with his gun at the ready. The expression on his face sends a shiver down my spine. That’s the expression of a man who first killed at age thirteen. One who will happily kill again now.
“Crawl behind the bar.” He nudges me with his free hand. “I’m going to take them out.”
My lungs constrict. “What? We’re splitting up?”
“Go, Cleo,” he growls.
His eyes meet mine, and it’s like someone pressed the mute key on the chaos around us. My mind quiets for a brief moment.
“Stay down, no matter what you hear,” he says, his voice ringing in my ears. “Got it?”
I give him a shaky nod. “Okay.”
He waits until I’m safely behind the bar and then springs into action. My stomach does a somersault when he throws himself into the center of the dining room and starts firing back.
What is he doing? There’s nothing between him and our attackers.
A few screams ring out. Rafaele runs to a table and flips it, using it as a shield. I hope it’s thick enough to block the bullets raining down on him.
He peers around the table and takes a few calculated shots. I like to think I hear someone grunt in pain every time he fires, but that’s probably just my imagination. Then he runs forward and disappears out of my field of vision.
I can’t see what’s going on. Time slows to a glacial pace. I chew on my nails. Is he okay?
That groan. Did that sound like him?
The gunshots are farther away now. Funny how a few minutes ago, I hoped they would stop, and now I’m hoping they won’t. At least if they’re firing at each other, it means Rafaele is still alive.
I can’t believe he’s trying to fight back on his own. I can’t see how many men are shooting, but he’s definitely outnumbered.
My chest tightens.
He’s going to die.
Fuck.
I can’t just sit here while he’s putting his life at risk.
We need backup. And if anyone’s going to call for it, it’s me.
I glance across the room. My purse with my phone is on the ground a few feet away from where my chair fell when the shots first rang out. If I get it, I can call Sandro.
Fear wraps its icy fingers around my stomach.
I can do this. We need help. Rafaele won’t be able to hold them off for long by himself.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I dart out from behind the bar and lunge for my purse. My body slides along the marble floor and sharp pain blooms along my belly.
What is that?
There’s no time to check. Ignoring the pain, I snatch my bag off the ground and crawl back to my hiding spot. My hands shake as I take out my phone and dial Sandro.
“Hello?”
“Get to Il Caminetto right now. We’re getting shot at.”
“What? Fuck. Okay, I’m on my way! I’m not too far.” He hangs up.
I drop the phone to the ground and realize it’s gotten eerily quiet.
Heart-crushing fear seizes me. Is Rafaele dead? He must have run out of bullets. He only had two guns on him.
The backs of my eyes prickle. Stupid idiot. We could have tried to escape out the back together.
Someone is walking toward me. The sound of their deliberate steps resonates through the room, growing closer and closer. I press my back against the bar and jerk my knees close to my chest.
Ow!
I glance down at myself and my heart drops. There’s blood all down my front.
Was I hit by a bullet?
Oh no. No, no, no. Was I shot? I must have been.
I’m so pumped up on adrenaline, I didn’t even feel it.
The footsteps halt. “What the fuck?”
I yelp, my gaze jumping to Rafaele. Relief floods through me. He’s all right. Somehow, he’s got less blood on him than I do.
He sinks to the floor beside me, his jaw clenched and his face pale, and clutches my shoulders. “Why are you bleeding?” There’s a strange waver to his voice.
“I don’t know.” My throat tightens with panic. There’s so much blood. “I think I was shot.”