I MARRIED A GANGSTER: [2018 EDITION]

Eight

Francesco was extremely tense the entire ride home. I wanted to ask him questions, but I feel that now wasn't the right time. Whatever was happening had Francesco in one-hundred percent serious mode and I doubt that he was taking any disobedience.

Yet, I was curious as to how a few words could get him worked up so quickly. He must've known more about this Ian Moone guy than me.

I snuck a glance at him, his chilled jaw kept clenching and unclenching as if he was chewing on his thoughts. His fingers drummed on the wheel in impatience, willing the car to push faster than its 120-mph range.

I prayed to anyone listening that something didn't happen that would need us to break because they were a crash that I was doubting either of us could survive.

This seatbelt wouldn't do itself justice.

As if he could read my thoughts, Francesco slowed the car down slowly as he reached into his pocket to pull out his cell phone.

Is he crazy? Speeding and dialing were going to kill us faster than whatever he was running from at the moment.

I wish I knew what.

Francesco's voice rambled on the phone quickly to whoever was on the other line. There wasn't time for the other person to speak before he hung up the phone, subconsciously tossing it in my lap.

"Everything should be fine," Francesco said. His voice came out like a melody, much calmer than his previous actions.

I saw his words as an opening to begin asking questions, "What is going on?"

Francesco had slowed the car down to a comfortable 55 as we pulled up to the gates of his mansion.

"I cannot explain right now," Francesco muttered as he stopped the car, waiting for the gates to open.

"You cannot expect that to work with me right now." I scoff, looking at him with my best 'as if' face.

"Well, you're going to have to make it work. There are more matters I need to attend to rather than holding your hand and explaining to you what should be obvious." Francesco said, "Someone is targeting me, and now they are targeting you too. I need to find out who it is before it escalates into something I know it can be."

He switched the gear and pulled into the driveway, "Don't get out until I come and get you." Francesco said.

Opening the glove compartment, Francesco pulled out a sleek black gun. I watched as he skillfully undid the safety and check to see if it was loaded and boy was it loaded.

Francesco turned off the car and stepped out, gazing around in the dark March air. I couldn't imagine what he would be able to see, the shadows from the trees loomed over every dark corner. If someone was hiding, they were safe.

After an extremely grueling glance around, Francesco came to my side and opened the door. His rough calloused hand was being handed out to me. I grabbed it timidly and pulled myself out of the car.

"Walk ahead of me," Francesco said as he shut the door behind me.

I did as I was told and walked towards the door to the house. When we got inside, every single light had been on, nearly blinding me momentarily.

Francesco closed the front door and replaced be behind him.

We climbed the stairs slowly and quietly and entered the master bedroom where Francesco began canvassing the room.

I stood by the door feeling helpless as I watched Francesco scan every square inch of the bedroom.

He turned to me when he was finished, "Go ahead and change, I have to speak with someone downstairs." Francesco said.