Agent Luna [Completed]

53.

"I have many other tricks up my sleeve." I respond as someone gently pulls me to my feet.

"We can use you." Someone else speaks up before Vincenzo snaps his gaze to the man.

Vincenzo speaks rapid quick Italian to the men, almost too fast for me to comprehend.

Before any of them can move, I have the handcuffs snapped and am running- sprinting- out of the house.

"Get her!" I hear him shout.

Since the car I hot wired is still running, I hop in that and slam my foot on the gas, allowing it to slam the door shut before I can even put a seat belt on.

I snicker. "Yeah, me wearing seatbelts."

I speed down the road and make a sharp turn onto a muli-lane road. Not exactly a highway but not exactly a road.

I rack my brain for any places I can turn to before realizing that I have none in Italy. I have a friend in France and a whole pack that can help me in Spain.

I guess I have to make my way to Spain.

I lean over to look through the glove box, hoping that whoever owned this car has a map.

Do people even use maps anymore? Was I taught something completely useless?

I grin as a map falls onto the floor. I grab it and swerve to get back into the lane. I hear guns fire before three cars speed past me.

I quickly speed up, needing to stay out of the center. Needing to not get trapped by the world's most dangerous Mafia.

The Russians come close to second though. Thankfully Viktor is the second in command's son. We have a good record with them. They actually don't do what people think. They fight to destroy the drugs and sell the guns. They're more... weapons based than all the others.

I need to loose their tail and get to a phone. And fast.

°•°•

I stumble into the restaurant, finally noticing how I look. I'm wearing a company t-shirt- who's company, I have no clue- and a pair of really short shorts, and sneakers.

I hear whispers on the outfit, seeing as everyone is dressed elegantly.

"Mi dispiace per il mio abbigliamento..." I announce before working my way towards the kitchen, knowing someone will have a phone I can barrow.

(I am sorry for my attire.)

A few women look at me in disgust and a few guys try to trip me.

"Snobby rich people." I mutter to myself. "I'm no where near them in that and I could probably buy them all over twice."

"Mi scusi, signorina, ma non si può essere di nuovo qui." A waiter finally stops me, his eyes flashing fright as he reads my shirt logo.

(Excuse me miss, but you can't be back here.)

"Ho bisogno di prendere in prestito un telefono cellulare. Allora sarò fuori del tuo modo." I explain.

(I need to barrow a phone. Then I will be out of your way.)

He frowns but nods for me to follow. We walk around the busy kitchen as strings of Italian curses come from all the men. They glare at the waiter in front of me before some have the decently to wink.

We get to a landline causing me to sigh in relief. I quickly dial Tyler's number, hoping that I remembered how to use phones here correctly.

"Tyler Wolfe speaking." My mate's voice crackles through the phone.