Mr. Lawson's Assistant

Chapter 17

"Mr. Lawson...?" I fumbled, staring at Damon in shock.
"Oana, I apologize for being early, I can wait here until you're ready-" he paused, and I looked at him in bewilderment.
"What?" I murmured under my breath.
He raised his eyebrows. "Our meeting? It's been rescheduled for tonight." He told me, and I noticed him glance down the hallway to his right.
"The meeting?" I started, but Damon shot me a look that could've killed someone. "The...staff meeting!" I said quickly, and he nodded. His eyes were urging me to hurry. He wanted me to play along.
Damon's eyes drifted down over my outfit. "Yes, we agreed I would pick you up at eight."
"Right... I uhm-- let me go change." I stuttered, gesturing that he come inside. His eyes scanned the room quickly, landing on my Mom and David. "Oh, uhm Mom, David, this is Mr. Lawson, my boss's brother." I quickly intervened, seeing David's face. "I forgot to tell you that I have a staff meeting tonight at eight. Mr. Lawson was supposed to pick me up." I didn't meet David's eyes, instead, I looked at my Mom. "I'll be right back." I looked at David.
Be nice.
I drew my lips into a line, shooting down his look with a curt shake of my head. Hurrying into my room, I grabbed my phone and jerked down the first two pairs of clothes in my closet.
What the heck am I doing?
Rushing into the bathroom, I threw on my black skinny jeans, and pulled on a random shirt. Tugging on my flats, I reached for the door handle, but someone opened it before I got a chance.
"Oh, you're ready." My Mom smiled at me, ushering me into the living room. "Damon was just saying that he needed to run by his brother's office before the meeting." Mom squeezed my shoulder, smiling over to Damon. David was glancing between the Damon and I, but he didn't look like he'd caught on to-- whatever it was that was going on.
"Sorry, I couldn't find my shoes." I lied, forcing a tight smile, as I moved towards the door, and grabbed my wallet from the living room table. Damon stepped back, after shaking David's hand, and opened the door for me, ushering me outside into the hallway. As soon as the door closed, I turned to him with wide eyes, but he cut me off before I could speak.
"We have to go." He said, his tone suddenly barely above a whisper.
"Go where? Are you insane?" I exclaimed, backing away from him, and glancing down both halls.
Empty.
"Dinner." He said, but no hint of amusement played on his lips. Without another word, he grabbed my hand, pulling me down the hall. I tried to resist, but he was as strong as he looked-- if not more. "Oana, I need you to be quiet and trust me." He whispered, pulling me into the stairwell.
"Tust you? I don't even know you!" I jerked at his hold on my wrist. He waited until I paused, before he unwrapped his hand from my wrist and held them up in front of himself.
"I can't make you go with me," He clenched his jaw, and I knew he absolutely could, "but if you don't, you will get hurt, and there's a good chance your family will as well." He lowered his tone.
"Are you threatening me?" I raised my voice, and he jerked one of his hands up to his forehead.
"Oana, I'm not the bad guy here-" he started, but loud shouting above us cut him off, as the sound of men knocking on doors filled the stairwell.
I jumped. "What's going on?"
Damon's attention shifted upward quickly, before he looked down at me, his eyes darkening. The door on the floor above us burst open, and Spanish started echoing off the walls.
"Long story." Damon grabbed my arm and pulled me down the steps. I clamped my mouth shut, as I tripped after him, trying to keep up with his long strides, no longer resisting. The men above us sounded angry, and Damon had virtually no reason to hurt me.
Like heck! You don't even know him!
I shut off my rational thoughts and focused on not falling down the stairs, as Damon pulled me forward, glancing back every few steps to give me a small break in his speed.
Finally, we reached the bottom, but instead of letting go of my arm, Damon pulled me in front of himself, and ordered me to get to his car as fast as I could.
"Wait--" I turned back, but a bullet zing beside me, made me lose all the words that had been in my mouth. I gaped at Damon with wide eyes.
"Go!"
Dashing out into the parking lot, I rushed towards the Range Rover, holding in my fearful yipes as bullets slammed into the pavement beside me. I reached the car in a few more strides, and I jerked on the handle frantically, but it wouldn't open. I whirled around to face the apartment building, looking for Damon, and half-expecting to see him laying dead behind me.
He was nowhere in sight.
Letting out a small scream, when a bullet whizzed past my face, I sprinted behind the car, pressing myself to the cold metal in the hail of bullets that was growing heavier by the moment.
I was there for all of two minutes, before the lights on the car blinked, signalling that it had been unlocked. Throwing a glance around for Damon, I tried to see where he might be, but darkness was closing in, and so were the men, so I pressed the open button on the back, and rolled into the backseat.
With heavy breaths, I pulled the hatch closed behind me, hugging my head to my chest, and pulling my knees up to protect my face, as it closed. But then, bullets began pinging off the sides of the car.
I could hear the men shouting in Spanish as they grew closer, and it occurred to me that the car was still unlocked. Panicking, I sat up, diving over the back seats towards the front lock button. The minute I slid into the driver's seat and reached at the button, the door flew open, and someone grabbed me, lifting me into the air, before the door slammed behind him.
The car roared to life, and as I struggled to see who had gotten into the car. Lifting my eyes, I saw Damon slam the car into reverse, before I realized what was happening. Flying back against Damon behind me, I winced when my bruise began to throb, and the wound lit up with a firey pain. Scrambling out of Damon's lap, I tumbled into the passenger seat, hitting my head on the dash.
In less than a second, I heard the car shifting into drive, and I barely had time to grab the side of the door, before Damon floored the gas pedal. If he hadn't reached over the counsel to shove me back against the seat, I would have hit the windshield.
The bullets started to slow until all that was left, were the small flashes of light in the parking lot, as we sped out into the city. As we drove, Damon slowly pulled his hand back to the steering wheel, and silence enveloped us. I was speechless.
He pulled the car out onto the highway, and I tried to calm my breathing. I was gripping the door beside me, focusing on not passing out, before Damon murmured something quietly to me.
"W-what?" I asked him breathlessly.
"You should buckle up." He said, keeping his eyes pointed at the road ahead, but I could see that his grip on the steering wheel was turning his knuckles white. I wanted to say something, but I couldn't make myself stop shaking, so I just clamped a hand over the seatbelt, and clicked it into place.
It took me several more minutes to calm down enough to see where we were going, but when I realized it, I choked on my next breath.
Damon looked over quickly, glancing me over to be sure I was alright. "What's wrong?" He asked me, concern written across his face.
"Nothing...I'm fine." I whispered.
Silence fell over us again, and as we exited off the highway, I saw Damon shift his hold on the steering wheel, sending another glance my way.
"I'm sorry."
My eyes snapped up to his face when he spoke, but no other words came next.
"What just happened?" I asked shakily, staring at him.
He set his jaw, staring at the road. "It's complicated."
I inhaled, clenching my jaw. "Then figure it out."
He glanced over at me, probably because of the tone I was using, but I didn't care. The initial shock hadn't worn off completely yet, but I was aware enough to know that I was mad, and scared, and I needed an explination.
"Who were those men. And why were they trying to kill us?" I demanded, turning my head to look directly at Damon.
He kept quiet for several minutes, as if contemplating whether or not to answer me, before he adjusted his hold on the steering wheel and his gaze at the road intensified.
"The Mafia."