Chapter 9 - The Mechanic’s Final FixTime seemed to slow down to a crawl.
Luca’s hand twitched toward his shoulder holster, but he knew he was too late. Enzo was too close, the rifle aimed squarely at his chest.
In that microsecond of absolute lethal peril, Enzo made one fatal mistake: he looked down at Luca, completely ignoring the soot-covered waitress standing behind him in the elevator car.
Emma didn't hesitate.
She reached down to her ankle, where she had slipped her father’s heavy silver wrench into the top of her canvas sneaker before leaving the garage.
With a silent, fierce cry, she hurled the heavy tool through the narrowing gap of the elevator doors.
CLANG!
The heavy wrench struck the barrel of Enzo’s sniper rifle with incredible force, knocking the gun upward just as it discharged.
BANG!
The bullet shattered the reinforced glass skylight of the penthouse foyer, raining shards of glass down upon them.
Enzo roared in rage, spinning around to backhand Emma across the face, sending her crashing to the floor. "You little—"
That fraction of a second was all Luca needed.
With blinding speed, Luca drew his Beretta and fired twice.
Thud. Thud.
Enzo Marchetti dropped his rifle, his eyes wide with shock, before collapsing heavily onto the white marble floor, lifeless.
The penthouse fell instantly silent, save for the crackle of distant flames echoing up from the lower levels.
Luca dropped his gun, sprinting past Enzo’s body to where Emma lay curled on the floor, holding her bleeding cheek. He dropped to his knees, gently lifting her into his arms.
"Emma. Emma, look at me," he pleaded, his voice trembling for the first time since she had met him. "Are you alright?"
Emma winced, spitting a drop of blood onto the floor, but managed a crooked, defiant smile. "If you ever let me get kidnapped by a Russian mobster again... I'm charging you double."
Luca let out a choked, wet laugh, pulling her tightly against his chest, burying his face in her soot-stained hair. "Deal. Double whatever you want."
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Elena hurried over, using a shard of broken glass on the floor to slice through the zip-ties binding her wrists. She rubbed her sore arms, looking down at Enzo’s body with cold, clinical detachment.
"Well," Elena murmured, catching her breath. "That saves us an audit."
