more in these past two weeks than in my whole life! Zing and another bullet pelts the car we’re hiding behind. “Stay down,” I instruct her. I keep my hands on her shoulders as she is slumped against the chassis. “You’ve got this, Alessandra!” I coax. I hope the person who owns this Escalade has good insurance because bullets are slicing through the metal, turning it into Swiss cheese. “I know he was here!” a male voice—has to be the shooter—yells, and I have no idea what he is talking about. Alessandra’s purse is hanging off her arm. I grab it and dump it out on the floor of the dirty parking garage. The gun thumps down and I scramble to pick it up. “I know he came to see you!” The guy is shouting stuff that makes no sense to me. I peek around the front bumper. I see the shadow of a guy behind a concrete pillar from the direction the bullets came.
What do You think about Mobster's Bones (Mobster #5)?
