Kissing the Killer: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance (Barone Crime Family) by B. B. Hamel

the other end. They had heavy weapons out and were walking casually, like it was no big deal. Their dark clothes and heavy armor made them look like demons from another world.
    “Line up and fucking fire!” one of the goons on our side yelled. The men began shooting at the Spiders, but they just kept coming, unleashing hell into the alleyway.
    I dove into a truck full of girls toward the front of the line. There were two cars still ahead of me, but I didn’t care.
    “What are you doing?” one of the girls screamed in my ear. The rest were speaking a language I couldn’t understand.
    “Tell them to hold on,” I yelled over the gunfire. Then I floored the car.
    The sound of twisting metal filled my ears as the car smashed into the one ahead of it. That car smashed forward, hitting the next one, and I kept the motor revving, the tires spinning. Burnt rubber replaced the smell of blood.
    Slowly the truck pushed the two cars forward. We were moving, slowly but surely, up and out of the alley. Bullets rained down on the truck, but they were being careful, too careful.
    It hit me instantly. They were trying not to hit the girls. I kept going forward, my confidence swelling. The other mafia thugs were firing back at the Spiders, but they were still coming. The thugs were dropping one by one, though some emulated me and got back into the trucks.
    Five feet, three feet, and suddenly the two cars were pushed out into the street at the other end of the alley. My wheels were spinning as I turned the wheel, heading away.
    And then two loud bursts made the car swerve.
    “Fuck!” I yelled, and the girls screamed as our truck went out of control, slamming into the side of the club.
    Bodies were rocked all over the place, limbs twisted with limbs. Girls were screaming and complaining, but we hadn’t been going too fast and nobody seemed hurt. Coughing from the smoke and the steam, I stumbled out of the car. I went around front and threw open the back door, looking at the girl who spoke English.
    “You!” I yelled. “Get these girls out of here.”
    “What? Where do we go?” she asked.
    She had big brown eyes and long blond hair. She looked like she hadn’t eaten in a week.
    “Run,” I told her. “Run as fast and as far as you can. Go to the police if you have to, but get the fuck away from here.”
    “Why?”
    “Those men will take you and you’ll all be slaves.”
    The girls stepped out of the car and were looking around. Gunfire still screamed in the alley and more trucks were coming out, plus bloodied, angry men.
    “Fuck, go!” I yelled, pushing the woman.
    She looked at me strangely and then spoke to the other girls. She looked back at me. “What’s your name?”
    “Brooks! What are you waiting for?” I yelled. The Spiders came around the corner next. “You have to go!”
    “Thank you,” the girl said, and then she yelled something else. The girls scattered, running as fast as they could away from the violence.
    I pressed myself up against the car, firing my gun at the Spiders as they came. I knew I wasn’t going to stop them, but at least I could slow them down.
    The Spiders were coming, and I was trapped. Trucks were peeling out and driving away, and the goons were scattered, either running away or returning fire. The Spiders just kept coming, unceasing and unflinching.
    I finished my clip and released it. I tucked my gun away and then moved to dart away, trying to put distance between me and the Spiders.
    That was when I felt something like a hammer strike me in the chest. Pain lanced down my spine and ribs, white hot and terrible. Another hammer blow took me lower down in the stomach.
    I stumbled back and then fell face-first onto the concrete.
    Pain rocked my whole body, bloody and searing.
    The last thing I remembered was seeing the girls disappear around the corner up ahead as the world turned to darkness.

8
    Emma
    H e still wasn’t home at two in the morning, and I was beginning to worry despite