147

CATERINA

"This isn't easy for me," my father rambles on as we reach the interstate and merge into traffic.

It's not very heavy at this time of night, and I hope we don't end up getting stuck in a jam somewhere. The sooner we are at the safe house, the sooner I'll be able to breathe easier. Not easy, but easier than I am now, with my heart in my throat and a sense of dread drumming in my head.

"You think it's fun for me?" I counter. "I don't like this any more than you do."

"You have a choice. That's what I need you to get through your head. You don't have to go through this." His hands tighten around the wheel, his shoulders rising as he takes a ragged breath. "He doesn't own you. You get to make your own choices."

"I realize all of that."

"Are you sure?"

The anger bubbling in his voice tells me I need to take a breath and smooth things over before we steer this conversation into dangerous territory. What I need most at this point is his support to keep me centered, and that's not going to happen if we're sniping at each other and hurling ugly words.

"I know it sounds crazy," I begin as calmly as I can.

"I can think of a few other adjectives for it."

My teeth sink into my tongue. Don't take the bait. Don't let this devolve any further."I'm sure you can, and I don't need to hear them."

"I don't know what else I can say to get through to you."

"It's not a matter of getting through to me. Would you please stop? I'm upset enough as it is."

Captain Last Word won't let it go at that. "You don't need this. That's all I'm saying." Before I can argue, he holds up a hand and shakes his head. "Listen to me. I understand I was wrong about Gianni. But that doesn't make him a good guy. Even if he was, he's involved with too many people who aren't. And they want to hurt him."

When all I do is stare out the window, still biting my tongue, he sighs. "You know that old saying? You don't just marry a person. You marry their family. That applies here, too. You are looking to get involved in this entire world, and you're carrying a child. Do you want them exposed to this?"

"It's not like I don't see your side of things," I murmur, choosing my words carefully. If anything, this is something to think about besides the explosion and the fact that Gianni could be under attack at this very moment for all I know. "And I'm not saying it doesn't matter. It does. But I love him."

"Caterina…"

"I do. And there's nothing I can do to stop it. You don't think I tried? You don't think I told myself so many times this couldn't possibly end well? Trust me, Dad. I know."

"And yet you walk into it with your eyes wide open."

"That's just my point. There's nothing else I can do. I can't force myself to stop loving somebody. Could you force yourself to stop loving Mom?"

"I don't appreciate you throwing that in my face."

"I'm not. I'm only trying to show you my side of things. If there was any way I could get through this life without Gianni, it would be different. I might be able to walk away. But that's just it. There is no going through life without him. That's the only way I can think to describe it."

Silence falls between us. It doesn't feel cold, and it's not tense either. I wish he would say something. I wish I could think of something else to say, anything that might help him understand where I'm coming from.

"I can't stand watching you walk headfirst into this," he finally admits. "That's all. I do want us to have a better relationship. I want us to be a family. But you can't expect me to be okay right now. I'm driving you to a safe house. Doesn't that seem out of the ordinary?"

"You know it does. But I'm not running away ever again. I know where I belong." And when I say the words out loud, when I feel them on my tongue and hear my thoughts being given a voice, I know I'm right. I'm doing the best thing for me and my baby. I've chosen this life and everything that goes along with it.

"So long as you're sure."

"I am," I whisper. He sounds so despondent. No matter how much I want to tell myself otherwise, his sadness is going to weigh on me. It's going to color every interaction we have until the day finally comes when he can move past this ugly, horrible night.

Maybe around the time the baby graduates high school, I guess.

"These new headlights…" Dad's grumbling stirs me out of my brooding.

Before I can ask him what he means, I flinch away from the intense glare in the side mirror. "I hate those things. They make it a pain to drive at night."

"It doesn't help that this guy is up our ass." He speeds up a little to put space between us and the offending car. "Nobody behind us for a mile, but he has to ride our tail."

Of all the times for me to laugh… "I remember you teaching me to drive. You always drilled that into my head. Leave at least five car lengths between me and the vehicle in front of me."

"And do you?" There's a tiny bit of humor in his question, thank God.

"I hear your voice in my head all the time, so yeah."

He doesn't laugh-he's too busy raising a hand above his eyes now that the headlights coming from behind us are blinding him. "What the hell?"

Sometimes a lifetime's worth of understanding can pass through a person's head in the time it takes to gasp. Like a sudden download. So many things materialize all at once, so fast you think your head will split open.

That's not a random driver.

Wouldn't this be the perfect time to come after me?

They were counting on this.

This must have been how she felt once she figured out somebody was on her tail.

"We have to get off the road!!" I twist in my seat, looking behind us with a hand shading my eyes. It's no use. Those headlights blind me to everything else. I can't make out the car or who's behind the wheel.

"What do you mean?" My father peers out the rearview mirror.

"I have a very bad feeling." The GPS says we're ten minutes from the safe house. "I don't think-"

The car lurches when we're tapped from behind hard enough to make the phone tumble from my fingers and into the back seat. "Shit!" Dad grunts out as he fights to regain control of the vehicle.

"We have to get away from this car." I try not to sound as panicked as I'm feeling.

"You think?" His voice is tight, like a wire pulled taut enough that it could snap any second. He sounds like the cop he used to be. "Face forward and make sure your seat belt is secure."

"Dad?" I can't find the breath to finish whatever it was I wanted to say.

"I know. Just hold on-and if I tell you to get down, get down."

From the corner of my eye, I watch his gaze dart back and forth between the windshield and the mirror.

"This son of a bitch thinks he's dealing with an amateur."

"Please, be careful," I squeak. It's amazing I can take a breath with my throat tightened to the size of a pinhole.

The car lurches again when the driver hits the right corner. This time we swerve to the side and turn halfway before Dad steers us over to the center lane.

Dinner's churning in my stomach and my life is flashing in front of my eyes. There are only so many close calls a person can have before they've had one too many. What sucks is there's no way to know which one is the last until it's too late to do anything about it.

I'm too young to die. I have too much to live for. Everything was finally starting to click. I was a heartbeat away from officially being engaged. I was about to plan a shopping trip with Dad. He was finally coming around on so many things and looking forward to being a granddad and, damn it, I need more time.

A single thought rings out loud and clear-so clear I can hear it. More like a prayer than a thought.

Mom. Help us, please.

Is this how she felt? Seeing that car bearing down on her, panic rising in her throat, the combination of fear and survival instincts making her foot heavier against the pedal.

No. In her case, it was worse. In her case, she was alone. She went through all of this by herself.

"I can't shake this son of a bitch!" Dad jerks the wheel to the side while barely avoiding sideswiping a truck. I'm unable to bite back a breathless scream and I can't help but wonder if she screamed too.

But there was nobody there to hear it…

We weave around a few cars whose drivers lean on their horns. They do it again once our pursuer passes. "Dad, I'm scared." It doesn't need to be said, but I can't hold it in either.

"I know, baby." He jams on the gas and the sudden burst of speed presses me against my seat. "There's a police station two exits down, just off the ramp. We can make it there."

Two exits? No way whoever is driving that car is going to let us make it that far. Not when they're up our ass again, the lights getting brighter, bigger.

"God damn it!" Dad shouts as he pulls into the right lane, where we swerve onto the gravel at the side of the road before swerving back into place. The car follows us.

When the phone starts ringing in the back seat, frustrated tears fill my eyes. I know who it is-call it instinct, or maybe a mental connection forged over the past few months. It has to be Gianni. Maybe he's calling to see if we've arrived yet.

My body moves before my brain knows what it's doing. I start to turn, to look for the phone, but the car jerks forward and I'm tossed back.

"Face forward!" Dad barks as he fights to regain control.

"It's probably Gianni! We need help!"

"What is he going to do?" he demands, almost leaning over the wheel. The speedometer reads eighty-five but the needle keeps drifting toward ninety. Of all the times for there to be no cops on the road, why is there no one out here to help us?

The question is still running through my head when the pursuer veers to the left, then starts inching closer like he wants to come up alongside us. "Dad, he's coming!"

"I see that. Hold on."

Meanwhile the phone continues ringing, and ringing, and all it does is remind me of who's waiting at home. How will he ever get over this? He will never stop blaming himself. If I could only reach the phone, but every time the car swerves from one side to the other my cell slides along the back seat.

I glance over my shoulder and now that the lights aren't directly behind us, I can see inside the other vehicle. It doesn't surprise me to find Donovan Moroni behind the wheel, and it looks like he's laughing. I could be imagining that, but I don't think so. I know he's crazy and that's exactly what he would do.

He takes his eyes off the road for a second, no more than that, and our gazes lock. He sees me and he knows I see him. All it takes is the slightest turn of the wheel to bump us, hard enough that we skid off the road.

"Motherfucker!" Dad shouts while I scream, bracing myself as the car speeds toward the woods alongside the road.

Everything goes through my head at once: Gianni, Tatiana, the ultrasound, Mom and Dad, Mom's funeral, even Luciano. The good mixes with the bad, all of it overlapping in the short time it takes us to tear through the overgrown brush bordering the tree line while Dad slams on the brakes.

Then it's all over. The car crashes into a tree, the impact stopping us in an instant. At first I'm stunned when the airbag hits my face and chest, but I shake it off, pushing the deflating bag away and looking into the passenger side mirror once it's visible. He's not back there-the road is quiet. I doubt he could come to a dead stop all at once, as fast as he was going, but he's coming. I know it deep down in my gut.

"Dad. Are you okay? Oh, my God." My heart's still pounding when I turn to him. It feels like I'm moving in slow motion as I clear the deflating airbag away and find him knocked out cold. "No, no, Dad. Wake up. Come on, wake up!" I don't want to shake him too hard, though, since I don't know if he's injured. All I know is he's slumped over the wheel, but when I hold my hand up close to his face, I feel his breath on the backs of my fingers.

I unbuckle my belt and turn in the seat, scanning the area through the rear window. There's smoke rising up from the front of the car. What should I do? Should I try to get him out in case there's a fire? I don't know if the smoke means something's already burning. I'm not sure I could move him or whether I should even try. I don't know anything.

One thing I can do is finally reach the phone. Once I have it in my hand, I decide to dial 911. Until it occurs to me I have no idea where we are, exactly. I wasn't paying attention to the mile markers and I don't know the number of the exit we were approaching. But none of that matters, not when Dad needs help.

My eyes flick up to the road, searching for some kind of landmark, and land on a car as it backs its way down the shoulder of the road. A car with damage to its front passenger side. A car that comes to a rolling stop.

"Oh, god!" I drop the phone from my shaking hands and reach for Dad. "Dad! Please, wake up! Help me!"

It's no use. I might as well be alone, and again, I can't help the thoughts of Mom that flood my mind as the car door opens, then slams shut.

He's coming for us. He's going to kill us...

All at once, a sense of calm washes over me. Everything comes into sharp focus. It could be the sight of Donovan sauntering around the car, his silhouette lit by his headlights, before he begins strolling across the soft ground torn up by speeding tires. He acts like he's on a leisurely walk.

Mom might have been alone and defenseless, but I'm not, because driving isn't the only thing Dad taught me how to do. Twisting around, I open the glove box, where the gun he told Gianni about sits. There's a round in the chamber when I check.

Please, Mom. If you're there, if you can help, I need you.

"Anybody alive in there?" he taunts, laughing like the maniac he is.

Any lingering nerves or questions about whether this is the right thing to do vanish when I hear that menacing laugh. He wants to kill me. My father. My baby. No fucking way. If it's a choice between my life and his, I'm choosing me. My first instinct is to jump out of the car and start firing but I have to be smart about this. The element of surprise is what's going to give me a leg up.

I open the door a little, then keep my right arm pressed to my stomach with the gun tucked under my left. "Please... Don't do this..." I moan like I'm injured. I raise my right foot and step out, planting it firmly on the ground. "Please, Donovan. I think he's dead."

"Boo-fucking-hoo," he retorts. "That's the entire point. If you get out of the car like a good girl and don't fight, I won't have to hurt you. But if you pull the shit you did back at the basement compound with that knife, I can't make any promises."

"I'm coming. Just, please, don't hurt me." I climb out slowly, my body hunched over and my once racing heart now beating normally. There's no fear. No doubt. Only the certainty of what needs to be done. He must die.

"Look at you. Not so brave now, are you? No knife for you to pull on me, huh?"

"You knew this is what would happen, didn't you? It was your plan all along." I don't know why I ask the question. It's not going to change anything but it will confirm how fucked up he is, and give me another reason to blow him away.

"Your precious Gianni likes to play dirty. Well, we can play dirty, too. My father told me what he would do, because he's so fucking predictable. Create a distraction, a way to split everyone up. It's the oldest trick in the book, and he ate that shit right out of my hand. All he cared about was getting his precious Caterina out of harm's way. Funny enough, he sent you right into it. It's a shame he won't get a second chance at being a father.``

I turn to him slowly, ensuring he's close enough for a clean shot. The last thing I want is for the bullet to miss him. I don't know if I'll get another chance. Straightening my spine, I lift the gun and point it directly at his chest. I don't say a word. I only take a moment to savor the smug expression he wears.

"What do you think you're going to do with that?" he laughs.

"I'm going to make certain you never fuck with me or my family again. I'm going to end your life." Everything happens in slow motion. The look of shock on his face, the step he takes towards me, his body hunching over and reaching for the gun. I release all the air in my lungs and squeeze the trigger.

My fingers squeeze the trigger and the smell of gunpowder fills my nostrils. The bullet zips through the air, hitting its mark. The center of his chest. He stumbles back with a strangled cry before landing on his ass. "My father will kill you for this. You're all dead." He scrambles backwards on his hands, while I slowly advance on him.

What kind of person does it make me to be able to watch him die? To see the light slowly seep out of him.

He gasps, flopping around on the ground like a fish out of water. I wonder how he likes it? Drowning on his own blood. What a shame his death couldn't be more drawn out.

We've taken too many chances with these monsters. We've left them too much room to come back at us again and again. I'm not doing that anymore. And that thought is what has me taking aim a second time. My story won't end the way my mother's did. I pull the trigger, my mind numb and my sole focus on my target. Another bullet lodges itself in his chest and I look from his face to the advancing headlights that sweep across my body.

Relief washes over me as I watch him take his final breath. Dead. He'll never hurt anyone I love again. I raise my left arm to shield my eyes, and all at once, reality comes rushing back.

I killed a man. I killed him.

What if I can't prove it was self-defense?

"Caterina!" I've never heard anything sweeter than the sound of Gianni's voice calling my name. He stops the car and flings the door open, running to me with his arms outstretched. When I'm finally wrapped in his embrace, I melt against him and let everything else fade away. I killed someone. I should feel shame, or guilt, but neither of those emotions come.

All I feel is relieved.

"He's dead," I whisper, almost in disbelief. "He's dead and I killed him. I killed him. He's dead." My teeth chatter and suddenly I'm so damn cold.

"Shh, little bird. I know. It's okay. You did what you needed to do. You protected yourself."

"…Caterina?" Dad's voice-soft, groggy-sounds from inside the car. He's alive. He'll be okay.

I'm so thankful he's alive. We both made it. My knees buckle and I end up on the ground, sobbing while Gianni holds me.

Everything's going to be okay. I just know it.