Chapter 10 - The Retaliation
The triumph at the Gala was electric, but in Virgilio’s world, blood always demanded blood.
It was 2:30 a.m. when the convoy returned toward El Puente. The rain had ceased, leaving the city streets slick and mirroring the yellow streetlamps.
Clara sat beside Virgilio in the backseat of the armored Maybach. Exhaustion was finally catching up to her, her eyelids heavy. Gently, unconsciously, her head tilted sideways, resting softly against Virgilio’s broad shoulder.
Virgilio stiffened for a fraction of a second, unused to such unguarded intimacy. But as he looked down at her peaceful, bruised face, a rare warmth softened the hard lines around his mouth. He gently raised an arm, allowing her to lean comfortably against his side.
Suddenly, Mateo’s voice barked over the tactical radio:
"Ambush! Nine o'clock!"
*BOOM!*
A heavy black garbage truck slammed violently into the lead security vehicle, flipping it onto its side across the intersection.
From the shadows of an adjacent construction site, two black SUVs roared forward, their windows rolling down as assault rifles poked through the frames.
*RAT-A-TAT-A-TAT-A-TAT!*
Armor-piercing rounds peppered the side of Virgilio's Maybach. The heavy bulletproof glass spiderwebbed instantly into white frosted circles, absorbing the kinetic shock.
Clara woke with a scream, throwing her hands over her head.
Virgilio didn't panic. With lightning reflexes, he pushed Clara down onto the floorboards between his legs, shielding her entire body with his own torso.
"Stay down!" he roared over the deafening cacophony of gunfire.
"Virgilio!" she cried, clutching his trousers.
"I have you!" he shouted back.
Up front, the driver hit the gas, slamming the reinforced bumper into one of the attacking SUVs, spinning it out of the way. Mateo, riding in the chase car behind them, opened fire with high-caliber tactical rifles, returning devastating counter-fire that shattered the attackers' windshields.
Virgilio pulled a heavy .45 automatic from his shoulder holster. He hit the electronic window release, lowering his side glass just three inches.
With chilling precision, Virgilio fired three shots through the gap.
Fifty yards away, the driver of the second attacking vehicle jerked violently, a round penetrating his windshield and neck. The vehicle veered out of control, crashing into a concrete light pole in a fiery shower of sparks.
"Clear the intersection!" Virgilio ordered through the comm. "Get to the countryside estate! Now!"
The driver punched the accelerator, tearing through the smoke and broken glass, leaving the smoking ambush site behind.
Inside the cabin, the smell of gunpowder hung heavy in the air.
Virgilio looked down. Clara was shivering on the floor, her eyes squeezed shut, but she was unharmed.
"Clara," he called out, his voice returning to that fierce, protective whisper. "Look at me. Look at me, little bird."
She opened her eyes, tears streaming through her makeup.
"Are you hit?" he asked urgently, his hands quickly checking her shoulders, her arms, her head.
"No... no, I'm okay," she sobbed. Then her eyes drifted down to Virgilio’s left arm.
A deep red stain was spreading rapidly across the fine wool of his tuxedo sleeve. A ricocheting shard of metal had sliced through the meat of his bicep.
Clara gasped, horror choking her throat. "Virgilio! You're bleeding! You're shot!"
Virgilio glanced at his arm with utter indifference, as if brushing away a stray speck of lint.
"It’s nothing," he grunted.
"It's not nothing!" she cried, pulling herself up onto the leather seat. Forgetting her own broken ribs, she tore a clean silk napkin from the console holder and pressed it firmly against his bleeding arm. "You got hurt because of me! If I hadn't come to your bar—"
Virgilio reached out with his uninjured hand, catching her chin firmly.
"Stop," he commanded, his eyes burning with an intense, quiet passion that stole the breath from her lungs. "They didn't attack because of you. They attacked because I took away their power. You are not a burden, Clara Reyes. You are the only clean thing that has walked into my life in seven years."
Clara froze, staring into his dark, scarred face. The distance between their lips was less than an inch. For a single heartbeat, the world stopped spinning.
May you like
Then, Virgilio gently pulled her against his chest, holding her tight as the car sped into the sanctuary of the night.
***