Page 106 of Cartel Devil

“Perfect timing.”

Tre mutters, then breathes a sigh of relief as we watch the SUV pull up. Two of the men clamber in through the trunk before they climb onto the third-row seats. The third gets in the front while the fourth guard sprints around the back of the SUV and climbs into the second row as I follow Tre in. We sandwich her between us. It’s a tight squeeze, but I know she’s protected from both sides.

We’re already peeling away from the hospital before we have our belts on.

“Tre, what’s the best way back to your parents’ house?”

“Antonio knows even better than I do.”

I’d like her to lean against me, so I can hide her away from this shit. She’s alert to everything around us, so I know she wouldn’t relax, even if I’m holding her. Antonio does an impressive job maneuvering, going full-blown Masshole driver.

“Call your head guard. Let him know we’re coming and need the gate open the moment he spots us.”

Tre pulls out her phone, watching me before she looks down to dial.

“Hank, we’re being followed. When you hear the horn, open the gate. They will pursue us all the way.”

“Ms. Vizzini, what’s happening? Who’s after you? Where’s Mr. Diaz?”

“He’s beside me. Just do it, Hank. I’ll explain to my father once we’re home. Don’t fucking call him either. Let me tell him.”

“He’s ready to call in the National Guard since the alerts went off. He already has men headed to the hospital. He about lost his mind when he saw where you were. If he weren’t in a meeting with investors from Japan, he’d be on his way too. He’s been trying to get them out the door without physically kicking them out for the last half hour.”

“Don’t call him.”

There’s a rigid command in her voice—one that comes from experience in a perilous situation, not a spoiled request from a Mafia princess. I can hear the entire conversation because she has the phone against the ear closer to me. She has it angled, so her ear doesn’t totally muffle it.

“Then stay on the phone with me, Ms. Vizzini. Please.”

“Fine.”

The conversation ends even if the call doesn’t. We’re silent in the car. The men wouldn’t dare speak unless absolutely necessary when someone from another syndicate can hear. Neither Tre nor I have anything to say. She leans against me. I want to wrap my arm around her shoulders, but my back is already killing me.

When I don’t, it’s so unusual that she looks up at me. She notices my back doesn’t touch the backrest. She raises her eyebrows in a silent question. I offer her a tight smile before she reaches up and uses her sleeve to swipe my damp brow. We were all breathing hard and sweating when we reached the vehicle, but with the air blowing, everyone but me has cooled off.

She lowers her arm and grasps my hands in a death grip. If this is how hard she holds on, then I might not survive childbirth. She’ll be the one opening all the jars in our home. Thinking about our future is what’s getting me through this shitstorm. It’s keeping me from losing my shit because someone’s endangering Tre. If she weren’t with me, I’d tell my men to stop and take a stand, end these motherfuckers who want to keep Tre and me apart.

Tre stretches to whisper in my ear. “Can you tell which car it is?”

I look back between us, not at the traffic behind us but at Pedro and Miguel. They’re the ones watching the back window.

“Which one?”

“The blue Ford F-150 and the gray Dodge Charger.”

One with speed to keep up with us and cut us off if there wasn’t traffic. The other one with size to try to ram our SUV off the road. I wish we were in my family’s vehicles. I’d be more confident about their aftermarket, reinforced safety features like bulletproof armor. At least we’d started with four today. One for Tre and me and four for a full convoy to surround us. We do that whenever we’re going to be on the freeway.

We stayed on surface streets on the way to the bakery. We’re only taking the risk on the highway right now because we need a more direct route with higher speed limits and fewer lights.

“Honk, please.”

Tre’s sweeter with her request. Antonio blares the horn for a good five seconds.

“Hank, a blue F-150 and gray Charger.”

We reach the private driveway as the gate finishes opening. Antonio pulls straight in and spots the open garage door. He makes a beeline for it. Tre ducks her head into my lap when there’s rapid gunfire. We can’t tell if it’s our pursuers or Vizzini men. I don’t need to know until I get Tre inside.

Before the first time we went out with a Vizzini driver, I made sure they knew my protocol that the engine stays on and the doors locked until the garage door is three inches from the floor. It opens faster if we need to back out, and a grenade isn’t rolling under it. It’s less likely someone can get down and shoot before the door reaches the ground.