NICCOLÒ

15. Fire

Niccolò stepped out of his Ferrari, once belonging to his father. It was a 250 GT Berlinetta, something that meant very little to him, but meant a lot to his father before he died. Romano strode forward, reaching the end of his car. The black car's headlights remained on, lighting the dusty track.

Two shadowed figures stepped out of their vehicles, clutching guns. They were scared. He could almost smell it. "You took my brother," the shorter one shouted, "Gio D'Angelo." Niccolò stayed calm, his finger ready on the trigger. "Give him to us, or we take the girl."

He didn't hesitate. A threat on Camilla's life was a stupid, stupid move; Romano clenched his jaw. She was a Romano guest - she was protected. She was his to bargain with, and for.

He curled his finger around the trigger, lifting slowly. The two men flinched, darting for cover - but he pulled his finger towards him with a deafening crack.

The bullet hit the bodyguard first, the one more likely to be proficient with a weapon. D'Angelo ducked immediately, running and shooting towards Niccolò with a shaky hand - the first shot missed easily in the dark. Niccolò raised his arm steadily, staying calm, refusing to cower as the second shot rang out and fired, once.

The D'Angelo's body dropped to the floor, blood spattered on the windscreen of the black car he had been a passenger in moments ago. Niccolò reached for his phone, jabbing the emergency dial quickly and activating the GPS tracker on his phone for Luca to track him down with.

It wouldn't take long for his family to arrive; they were only a few minutes from the Romano House. Niccolò strode forward, raising his gun as the driver's door opened; the driver raised his hands silently, dropping to his knees.

Cee sat, frozen with fear, squeezing her eyes shut. She hadn't moved for about sixty seconds. What if Niccolò was hurt? What if he died?

She dared to peek quickly in the wing mirror but the dark had swallowed up the three men; nothing moved. She hadn't forgiven Niccolò - but she couldn't let him die - she could help. Cee closed her eyes tightly, praying like her life depended on it, and opened her door as silently as she could.

She slipped out, keeping her head low, creeping slowly towards the rear end of Niccolò's car. She couldn't hear anything - the gun shots had stopped. Cautiously, she peeked her head out, her eyes catching on bright blue irises, frozen open. Cee's world stopped spinning.

The eyes stared up at her lifelessly, blood trickling from the bullet hole in his forehead. She pressed a hand to her mouth, her stomach twisting with nausea.

"Camilla." His voice was low, expressionless. "Get back in the car." She lifted her head, staring at Niccolò with horror; she felt incapable of moving. She was used to blood; she'd never seen a corpse before, never looked into their eyes.

Gone was the man that had taken her for gelato ten minutes ago; this was Mr Romano, the Romano Don. He gripped her upper arm tightly, effortlessly hauling her up straight and pushed her back into the car. Cee stared blankly ahead, letting him slam the door; she heard him lock the car.

Romano's men descended on the narrow lane, blocking each end; men poured out of vans, each well-armed, each emotionless.

"Where's Cee?" Luca snapped immediately at Romano, shaking with worry or anger.

"Watch your tone," the Don replied calmly, a deadly fury building beneath his quiet tone. Luca bowed his head, waiting to receive orders. "Take the driver back to the House, find out what the D'Angelos know or think."

Luca nodded sharply, scanning the scene for Cee's distinctive long, dark waves of hair, finding nothing in the dark. "Now!" Romano barked, glaring at his cousin.