6. Bella

6

BELLA

N iccolo slumps in the passenger seat, his eyes closed, breathing shallow. Blood seeps through his shirt where the bullet hit him.

"Nic?" I whisper, my voice trembling. No response.

Panic rises in my throat. What am I supposed to do now? I'm alone, driving a stolen car with an unconscious man bleeding next to me as we run from… who? Assassins? My father?

I glance at Nic again. His face is pale, a sheen of sweat on his brow. Part of me wants to pull over, try to help him. But what if he wakes up and decides I'm a liability? He killed that driver without hesitation.

Then again, if he wanted to hurt me, why go through all this? Why not just leave me behind?

My mind races, trying to make sense of it all. I'm trapped between my fear of Nic and my fear of whoever's after us. At least with Nic, I have some protection. On my own, I'm completely vulnerable.

I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself. Focus on driving , I tell myself. Just get to the cabin.

I steal another look at Nic. Despite everything, I can't help but worry about him. He's losing a lot of blood. If I don't do something soon, he might not make it to the cabin.

“Nic?” I push on his arm, hoping to wake him, but he’s completely out. Despite everything that's happened, I can't just let him bleed out next to me. He might be dangerous, but right now, he's my only lifeline in this mess.

I rack my brain, trying to remember what I packed that might stave off the bleeding. Clothes, toiletries, a few books, Band-Aids… nothing that could help with a gunshot wound.

I remember that many drivers keep first-aid kits in their vehicles. I keep one hand and one eye on the road as I reach over to open the glove compartment. I poke around but only find the usual car manual, registration, plastic spoons, and spare sunglasses.

I open the center console to find only change, a phone charger, CDs, and a bottle of water.

I slump back in my seat, fighting back tears of frustration. Why is this happening?

I look over at Nic again. His skin has taken on a grayish tinge, and his breathing seems even more labored than before.

The trunk. Maybe there’s a first aid kit there. I scan our surroundings. We’re out of the cities and towns, in rural Indiana. There aren’t many cars on the road. I spot a sign for an upcoming exit that doesn’t advertise gas stations or restaurants, suggesting it doesn’t have many people.

I take the exit and pull the car onto the shoulder of the road. Glancing at Nic's still form, I take a deep breath and step out of the car and walk to the back of the car. The trunk pops open with a soft click.

I first see my suitcase and remember the phone Ava gave me. I lied to Nic about having one, something I can’t decide is a good or bad thing. He’d probably take it from me, maybe even throw it away like he did his phone. I’m sure no one can track this one, though. Ava would have made sure of that.

I quickly open my case and pull out the phone, deciding I want it with me. For a moment, I consider calling Ava, but I can’t count on Nic staying passed out. What if he wakes up and then decides to kill me for defying him?

Instead, I shove the phone into my back jeans pocket. I close my case and then rummage around the trunk. Sure enough, in the spare wheel well, there’s a white box. I lift the box out, and just as I slam the trunk shut, a shadow falls over me. Nic stands with his gun pointed directly at me, his eyes dark and intense.

I scream and shuffle to the other side of the car, ducking down.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

I peek over the edge of the car, knowing I can’t hide. He’s still standing on the passenger side, his gun pointed in my direction, his other hand on the trunk, as if it’s holding him up.

Anger flares in my chest, mixing with fear and frustration. I hold up the first aid kit. “I was thinking you needed to deal with that hole in your side before you bleed to death.”

Nic lowers the gun slightly, but his expression remains guarded. "I told you not to stop."

"Yeah, well, forgive me for not wanting to watch you die," I snap, surprising myself with the vehemence in my voice. I’ve been bold in my life, but not when my life was on the line. Then again, I’ve never been shot at or threatened with a gun before.

He scowls, swaying slightly on his feet. "We can't afford to stop. It's not safe."

I don’t know what comes over me. I throw the kit at him. “Die if you want, you jerk.” The box hits him in the chest and lands on the trunk. “See if I care.”

I stalk back to the car and get into the driver’s seat. I press down on the accelerator, anger and frustration fueling my actions. The car lurches forward.

In the rearview mirror, I see Nic stagger but stay upright. “Bella! Stop!”

I slam on the brake because I can’t really leave him to die on the side of the road.

He makes his way to the front passenger door. “What the fuck!”

Anger surges again. I step on the accelerator, lurching the car forward before slamming on the brake.

“I could leave you here,” I yell at him.

The door opens and he falls in.

“All I wanted to do was help you, you ingrate.”

He looks really bad as his head falls against the headrest. He hasn’t even managed to shut his door.

I growl in frustration and get out of the car.

“Where are you going?” His voice is weak.

“To shut your door since you can’t seem to manage it.” I walk around the car, picking up the first aid kit and then slamming his door shut.

I return to the driver’s seat. “Now, do you want me to bandage you or would you rather bleed to death?”

“It’s hard to know.”

I glance at him, and I swear I see his lips twitch upward. The wound must be making him delirious if he’s joking.

“Shall we sit here until you decide?”

He shakes his head. “You can patch me up.”

“Good answer.” I open the box and pull out large gauze bandages, tape, antibiotic ointment, alcohol wipes, tweezers to remove the bullet if I can, and pain reliever.

Nic struggles to remove his shirt, so I reach over to help him unbutton it. His skin is clammy as I open the shirt. I note two holes, one just over his left hip and the other out the left side of his back. I wonder if it hit anything important. This is where a doctor could be important. But he’s adamant about no doctors, so I’ll have to do.

“It looks like it went through,” I say, relieved I don’t have to poke inside his body looking for a bullet. I open an alcohol wipe.

I press the wipe over one of the holes.

“Motherfucker!” He flinches.

“Sorry. I have to clean it.”

He nods. I clean the wounds and glop on all the antibiotic ointment, thinking if he doesn’t bleed to death, he could die of infection.

I can feel Nic watching me.

"Where'd you learn to be so stubborn?" Nic asks, his voice gruff but lacking its earlier menace.

“Just because a woman stands her ground doesn’t make her stubborn.”

A ghost of a smile flickers across Nic's face. "Fair enough."

As I work, I can feel something changing between us. We're not friends, not by a long shot. Perhaps we’re becoming a team. We’re reluctant partners in whatever mess we've found ourselves in.

“Where’d you learn to be such an asshole?”

He shrugs. “It’s the life, I guess.”

“Is that how you can be bleeding to death and act like it’s nothing?”

He grunts, eyes half-closed. "I've had worse."

I don’t doubt it. Once I have him patched up, I open the water bottle and sniff to make sure it’s not vodka or something. My mom often carried booze in her water bottle. I take a quick taste. It’s warm but it’s water.

“Here, drink this.”

He complies probably because he’s too weak not to. Once he’s had a few sips, I put the water in the cupholder and resume our trip to the cabin.

Next to me, Nic goes quiet and I don’t like it.

“Is Gia your wife?” It occurs to me that I know nothing of Don Gino Nardone’s family.

“Jealous?”

I gape at him, noting his eyes are closed and his head is leaning against the window. I wonder if he’s dreaming. Or maybe being close to death gives him a sense of humor.

“Why would I be jealous?”

“I’m a better catch than my father.”

I grip the steering wheel, annoyed by this conversation. He does realize that I’ve had no choice in all this, right? “If I could choose my catch, it wouldn’t be any of you.”

His head lolls to the left, his eyes opening halfway. I think I see empathy, but he doesn’t say anything.

I continue driving.

“Gia is my sister,” he finally says.

“Because of what happened here, you sent your friend to protect her. That tells me you have an idea of what’s going on.”

“You’re smart as well as beautiful.”

I hate that my ego likes what he just said. “So, what’s going on?”

“I don’t know. Honestly.” His head lolls back to rest against the window. “And since I don’t, I need to protect what matters.”

“Why not leave me behind? I don’t matter.”

“I don’t know that. And despite current appearances, I’m your best chance to survive whatever is going on.”

It’s a little annoying that he doesn’t dispute my comment and say that I matter. Chances are, if I do matter, it’s only as a bargaining chip. If necessary, he’ll hold me hostage to learn what he needs to know. It’s all the more reason I should let him die or get away.

But the feeling that he’s right in that I need him to survive is equally as strong.

The roads have become more rural, trees lining both sides as we leave Indiana behind and enter Michigan. Each mile feels like an eternity.

"We're in Michigan," I tell him, trying to keep my voice steady. "How are you feeling?"

He doesn’t respond. My anxiety spikes. I press down harder on the accelerator, silently willing the car to go faster.

We finally get to my friend’s cabin. It’s too early for ski season and too cold to enjoy the lake, so I’m hoping no one is here. I pull up to the cabin, noting it looks deserted.

“Check for cameras,” Nic mumbles, his voice weak but still commanding.

I glance over at Nic, surprised he’s awake. “Like security and doorbell?”

He nods. I get out of the car, shivering at the cold wind. I walk up to the door and look along the porch and roof line but don’t see anything that looks like security cameras. I walk the perimeter and still don’t see anything.

I return to the car. "Nothing," I report back, leaning into the car. "At least, nothing I can see."

“Can you pull around back? Hide the car?” Nic asks.

I have to pull the car into the back yard to do that, but I do. I help Nic out of the car, supporting his weight as best I can as we step up on the porch to the back door.

“Here.” He hands me a small packet and instructs me to take out a tool.

“What’s this?”

“To open the door. Unless you know if they hide a key.”

Oh, my God. He’s asking me to break in. Although, how else were we going to get in?

“Can’t you do it?” It’s bad enough that I’m involved in car theft.

“I don’t think so.”

My hands shake as I take out the tool and follow Nic’s instructions to unlock the deadbolt and the knob. It’s scarily easy.

I help Nic inside the kitchen door. For a moment, he leans against the wall as I shut the door and lock it, wondering why I’m bothering if it’s so easy to break in.

“Make sure lights are off, unless they’re set on timers. And close the curtains.”

He’s quite the expert at all this. I’m not sure whether I’m more disturbed or relieved.

"This is wrong," I say, more to myself than to Nic. "We shouldn't be here. We're criminals now."

Nic's laugh is harsh and humorless. "Welcome to my world, Bambina."

"I'm not like you.”

Nic's eyes meet mine, dark and intense. "You're more like me than you think. You're here, aren't you? Rules change when survival is at stake."

I look away, unable to face the truth in his words. My gaze falls on my hands, still stained with Nic's blood from when I tried to bandage his wound. The sight of it makes my stomach churn. I wash them and then go through the house as he instructed.

It’s still daytime, so I don’t mess with the lights. The curtains are all already closed. As I make my way back to the kitchen, I’m surprised to hear Nic fumbling around.

I enter the kitchen, and immediately, he grabs my arm, wrapping twine around my wrists. I try to fight, knowing I must be stronger than him, but he leans against my body, his weight holding me down.

“What are you doing?” Panic rises. I don’t understand.

"It's for your own safety." He manages to restrain my other arm, wrapping the twine around both wrists, his movements quick and practiced. I’m not the first person he’s done this to. But how is he strong enough? I wonder if the appearance of weakness was a ruse to lower my resistance.

"My safety? How is being tied up safe?" I continue to flail as best I can against him.

“I can’t trust you not to leave.”

“I could have run already and didn’t.”

“I can’t take a chance.”

I struggle against his grip, fear and anger battling within me. "This is insane!

"I can't risk your running off or calling for help. We don't know who to trust."

"I saved your life!" I cry out, tears of frustration welling in my eyes. "I drove you here. I helped patch you up. Why would I run now?"

Nic's face hardens. "Because you're scared. Because you're in over your head. I can't take chances, Bella. Not with both our lives on the line."

As he finishes tying the knots, a wave of helplessness washes over me. He tugs me by the twine to the living room and pushes me into a desk chair. He wraps the twine around my body, strapping me into the chair.

“You’re a jerk, you know that?”

“I’ve been called worse.”

“I should have left you on the road. Let you die.” I hate how scared and vulnerable I sound even as I try to be strong.

“Maybe. We’ll find out eventually.” He makes his way to the couch and collapses onto it.

Anger bubbles up inside me. How dare he tie me up after everything I've done for him? “What if I have to go to the bathroom?”

“Wake me,” he murmurs. Moments later, he’s out.

My mind drifts to the burner phone Ava gave me, still hidden in my pocket. It's my lifeline, my escape route. I’m relieved he didn’t notice it. I can call 9-1-1. Or better yet, I should call Ava. She’d know what to do. Or her husband, Matteo, would.

But I’m not sure I can get away with it. Nic’s latest move has me wondering just how ill he is. When needed, he’s able to find Herculean strength to get things done. For now, I wait. Maybe he’ll die, and then I can call for help.