Shot to the Hart

Chapter 2: Activate Plan B

She knew him. Not just that. It was way worse than that.

Her heart, usually placid, began to slam in her throat and beads of sweat dripped from her forehead and stung her eyes. She swiped at her face with a gloved hand and gave her head a quick shake.

It didn't matter. Never hesitate, never miss. It was her motto, why she was the best in the business. 

She settled back into position, looking through the scope again. The shot would be quick; Sal wouldn't suffer. My Sal.

He was still on the phone. When he threw his head back and laughed, she saw him not as he was now, but as a boy. His eyes were the same, he had the same mischievous grin and she flashed back to sun drenched, late autumn days when they walked home from school together. She saw him laughing in that same way at something dumb she said, coming over to watch Saturday morning cartoons, picking her up when she was down, sometimes literally.

Shoot him, she commanded herself, saying the words through gritted teeth.

But the thought of it sickened her; the silent explosion peeling his scalp back and shattering the top of his head like a rotten pumpkin.

I can't do it.

Before she changed her mind, she quickly dismantled the gun. Her heart beat double time as she packed up, pushing thoughts of her failure out of her mind. She knew the kind of people she worked for and what happened when you botched a job; the repercussions would be swift and unpleasant.

Salvatore DeMarco was Sal.

Time for Plan B, something Nadia never thought she'd have to do. She packed her gear quickly, slung her bag on her shoulder, raced down the stairs and into her black Mercedes. She needed time to think and to strategize her next move. The bosses would not be happy with her last-minute choice and she might need to pull the pin on Plan C – getting the fuck out of town until things smoothed over.

One thing was certain. There was no way she could kill Sal, her only childhood friend.

Nadia started the car but before she could pull out into the city traffic the unmistakable crack of gunfire made her crouch instinctively. Her eyes went to Sal who was down, clutching at his side as he ducked behind back wheel of his SUV. It all happened so fast; in the time it took to blink. All the modifications couldn't save him if he wasn't in it, she thought wildly.

Someone else was trying to kill him. Sal's men in black jumped into position and returned fire, crouching behind the SUV. The shots were coming from the rooftop of the building she'd just left. She gazed up, shielding her eyes from the late day sun that burned through the clouds.

It only took seconds for the sniper's bullets to take out each one of Sal's bodyguards. Who the fuck is that?

The second assassin was good, she thought, watching them fall one by one as her panic rose. Not as good as me, but still good.

Go, Sal. Go now, she muttered, watching. He was a sitting duck behind the car, why wasn't he moving? And why wasn't he returning fire?

People were screaming and running in every direction. She imagined whoever was on the roof packing as quickly as she did and descending the stairs two at a time cross the street to where Sal was and finish the job. And this time they wouldn't hesitate like she did.

She had to act. There were less than seconds left.

Nadia threw the car into gear and roared across the street, coming to a tire shredding halt before Sal's SUV, now riddled with bullet holes. She drew the Ruger from her bag and fired at the top floor of the building, smashing every street facing window. They bullets were unlikely to find their target, but it might buy them some time to get away.

She ripped open the passenger side door. "Get in," she told Sal who was white with shock. He'd already lost a lot of blood just under his rib cage and she felt her panic rise with the sick idea that she'd saved him, risking her own life and career, for nothing. He looked up at her but didn't move.

"Now," she barked and he scrambled into the seat She peeled out into traffic, the speed of the car slamming the door shut. Sal gasped each breath and clutched at his side before passing out. She weaved in and out of blaring cars and sped along bike lanes and sometimes up onto the sidewalk as cyclists and pedestrians dove out of the way. Sal was fading, fast.

"Hold on, dammit," she yelled, barely missing a hot dog cart to duck down a narrow alleyway and then onto the freeway. She finally found some open road and punched the gas, feeling gratified when the car gripped the road and blasted them away.

She needed answers. But first, she needed to keep Sal alive.