by Dee, Cara
All the doors to the rooms I passed were open. I didn’t run into Sullivan—or Liam, for that matter—and I came to a screeching halt when I saw Emilia. She stood in her room, gun aimed at something I couldn’t see, and there was blood trickling down her hand. A hand that was covered in something. Her chest was heaving too.
“Emilia.” Her name gusted out of me as I crossed the threshold, and she snapped her wild, fearful gaze to mine.
She made a choking sound, and tears welled up in her eyes. “You’re late.”
“Won’t happen again.” The quickest of grins spread across my lips, though I killed it quickly. I had no words to describe the immeasurable relief. I wanted to close the distance and hug her to me and never let go, but maybe I should stop acting like a fucking idiot and help her. And at that sobering thought, I flicked a glance to the corner of the bedroom and saw two people. One man, one woman. Two Avellinos. Gio and Elena.
Jesus fucking Christ, they were within my grasp—finally. Gio sat on the floor, semi-conscious, leaning against the side of the bed. There was…what the hell was that, a dumbbell? A small weight that belonged in a gym lay on the floor.
Elena was on her knees, eyes trained downward, and blood was smeared all over the side of her face.
Her shoulders shook with silent cries.
I took a breath and strode over to Emilia, and I handed her one of my handguns so she’d have two. “Where’s Sullivan?”
“I don’t know,” she croaked.
I nodded, eyeing the…whatever it was on her hand. A diamond-studded glove of some sort. “Don’t lower your aim, baby. I’mma go look for him, okay?”
She nodded too.
Before I left, despite the fact that I really didn’t want to, I stalked over to the Avellino cunts and checked them for weapons.
“She’s my daughter,” Elena sobbed.
I didn’t think before I reacted. I stood up straight and backhanded her as hard as I could, and she fell to the floor and started bawling her eyes out.
“Don’t do this, Emilia,” she wept.
“Shut up—just shut up!” Emilia growled. “You have no fucking idea.”
Another bout of relief sank into me as I watched her. The absolute fury in her eyes, directed solely at the woman who’d given birth to her… Emilia had every right to hate the bitch, but I supposed a part of me had feared she wouldn’t. Family could so easily cloud matters, and the last thing I wanted was for her to fall for a ruse and get hurt even more.
I’d played Emilia once, using that very card.
If I touched her now, I wouldn’t be able to let go, so I ducked out of the room and quickly began my search through the remaining areas up here. I had to find Sullivan and Liam.
Sullivan had cleared the second floor well. In several beds, I found dead men. He’d snuck in and killed them while they slept; some, it seemed, had been on their way out to assist when everything had gone to hell. One man was on the floor with a pool of blood around his head, and his pants were halfway down. One was naked. Another looked to have been in the middle of putting on a shirt, with one arm in.
“Sullivan,” I said.
I heard a cough nearby, and I spun around in the dark hallway. I thought I’d checked that room…
I lifted my gun in the doorway. There was a dead man on the floor, and I noticed he’d been shot several times. Blood that was pitch black in the dark glistened around the man’s thigh, his stomach, and two places in his chest. Sullivan was our best shooter; he wouldn’t waste that many bullets unless—
I heard the cough again, this time behind me, and I hurried across the hall and into the other guest room there. Jesus, there—oh fuck, he was hiding behind a closet or armoire or whatever. After scanning the room quickly, I squatted down and clenched my jaw. Blood everywhere.
“Fucking hell, mate.” I tore off my hoodie to stop the bleeding along his neck. “Don’t speak.”
But he insisted. “Ch-cheek,” he rasped.
I lowered the sleeve I’d been using and sucked in a breath. Then I made eye contact briefly. “You’re one lucky son of a bitch, my friend. You’ll be fine, just don’t…do anything. Okay? I’m gonna tuck this piece into your mouth.” I couldn’t believe it. He’d been shot in his cheek, but there was a fairly clean exit wound. It was as if someone had stuck a gun into his mouth and pulled the trigger.
“Wait,” he croaked. “Don’t know—if he’s dead.”
“The guy across the hall? You got him, buddy.” I felt the impatience rise once again, and I carefully but swiftly inserted the end of a sleeve into his mouth. “Hold this there. We gotta stop the bleeding. Try to keep the fabric pressed against the cheek—inside and out. Got it? And stay here.”
My gaze ran over his slumped form, and I noticed more signs of struggle. He’d probably fought the guy. His knuckles were banged-up, his shirt was torn, and he had blotches of budding bruises around his neck.
“Stay here and just breathe,” I repeated. “Don’t move. We got this. The girls are safe.”
He managed the slightest of nods before his eyes drooped.
I had to go.
On my way out of the room, I detected a trail I’d missed before. It was faint and gleamed only when the moonlight hit the direct path, but it became clear Sullivan had dragged himself in there to get away once he’d been injured.
“Emilia, are you good for now?” I called. The gunshots kept pummeling the air out back, and I had to help out.
“I’m good,” she said hoarsely. “Go. I promise.”
I blew out a breath and went against what I wanted yet again. Then I ran up the last flight of stairs and hoped I’d find Liam quickly.
“Liam,” I said in a hushed voice.
Nothing.
There were fewer rooms up here. Only three. Two with the doors open, and the rooms were empt—or not. Shite. I darted over to where Liam was passed out on the floor. No blood anywhere, but there was a fire poker a couple feet away from him. It belonged to the fireplace in the corner; someone must’ve knocked him out with it.
“Liam.” I shook him gently and cupped his neck, my fingers slipping around his throat to feel if there was any obvious injury. “Liam, wake up.” Next, I felt the back of his head—and there. Definitely a bump. He had a pulse, though. He was breathing too, albeit slowly and shallowly.
I winced at the yelling and gunfire from outside.
“Come on, mate.” I smacked his cheek lightly and checked for other possible wounds.
When he groaned and started coming to, I exhaled heavily and slumped back so my ass hit the floor.
“You bloody scared me,” I griped.
“Huggh.” He cringed and rubbed his face weakly. “That…th’cunt. Elena.”
“She did this?”
He grunted and forced his eyes to open. “Aye. Ah, fuck.”
“You probably have a concussion. You think you can—whoa.” I pushed forward and held him up when he tried to roll over. A second later, he gagged and threw up on the floor. “Fuck. Hang in there, cousin. I’ll send Pop for you as soon as I can, but I gotta go.” I grunted and stood up. “Let’s get you off the floor first.”
He definitely had a concussion.
“Go,” he croaked. “I’ll be fine. Help the others.”
“I will.” I hauled him up and helped him over to the bed. “Take it easy. Don’t move.” This was far from optimal. I wanted him downstairs with Emilia. “How you feelin’ now?”
He made a face. “I just need a minute.”
I frowned and took a step back.
He wiped his mouth once he was seated on the edge of the bed.
“Soon as you’re up to it, go downstairs to Emilia,” I told him. “She’ll make sure you don’t fall asleep or anything. You shouldn’t be alone.”
He waved me off and promised he’d be okay.
I couldn’t stay. I didn’t have the time to play nurse. “Seriously. If a fucking concussion kills you, I’mma be pissed,” I said. “Get yo
ur ass down to Emilia as soon as possible. She’s got both Gio and Elena at gunpoint.”
He nodded. “I’ll be there for her. Get outta here now.”
I breathed in deeply and nodded firmly, and then I stalked out of the room and aimed for the stairs. On my way down, I changed clips on my Glock and listened to the yelling going on outside. The mayhem was slowly dying. The bullets didn’t rain as rapidly, and I couldn’t hear Kellan and Colm shouting orders from the first floor anymore. Maybe they’d gone outside.
“Check behind the shed!” Patrick ordered somewhere outside.
I reached the first floor and refocused, making sure I didn’t get caught off guard by anyone on my way out.
The stone floor was a bed of shattered glass in every room that faced the back of the estate, and with each step I took, shards crunched underneath my feet. Right as the backyard became visible, I spotted Pop gesturing to someone on the other side of the house. I let my gaze travel the length of the area; several bodies were on the grass, and I caught Colm kicking aside a rifle from someone.
Was it almost over?
“Comin’ out,” I warned as I stepped onto the terrace.
Pat stood out on the lawn with Mack, Eric, and Joel, and my brother nodded at me, but his focus was trained on the side of the house. There was a stretch of grass that led to the front of the estate.
“All clear,” Kellan announced. I didn’t see him. I only heard he was coming from the direction Pat was watching. “Is Colm there? We should head out and see if anyone fled through the hole we made in the wall.”
“He’s here. I’ll go with you,” I said.
Kellan appeared a beat later, and—then a gunshot rang out. I jumped toward the doorway and aimed my gun, only to release a harsh breath when I saw Adam. He’d found someone who wasn’t dead yet. But just as I relaxed again, another shot was fired, then another and another.
“It’s coming from inside the house!” I growled. Everyone ran to find something to shield them, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw one of our men fall to the ground. Motherfucker. “Search the house again!” I yelled. “Colm, cover for me.” I sucked in a breath and sprinted across the lawn. More gunfire blasted through the air.
“First floor. It’s coming from the gym!” Pop shouted. “Adam, Patrick, Kellan—”
“We’re on it.” Kellan was already disappearing inside.
As soon as I reached the—oh shit, it was Patrick. Oh God. I hauled him up a bit by his shoulders and dragged him toward the back of the bulldozer. “Stay with me, brother.”
Three shots rang out quickly, followed by Eric’s groaned cry.
“Ow, motherf—fuck!”
I exploded with rage. “Get that son of a whore!” I roared toward the house.
Patrick coughed and spluttered where I left him. My feet carried me as fast as they could to the spot where Eric had dropped, but he wasn’t down completely. Bowled over and cursing, he was clutching his stomach. Fear nearly crippled my actions, but I managed to push through it and usher him to where I’d left my brother.
“Dad!” I yelled.
“On my way, son.”
I hurriedly batted away Eric’s hands and pulled his hoodie up and over his head. Fucking hell. Fucking hell! The vest hadn’t caught the bullet. He’d been shot in his side.
“Hold this here,” I demanded, pushing his shirt against the wound. “Hey—are you with me, Eric?”
He nodded sluggishly, and his shaking hands covered where I’d been holding. Thankfully, Pop showed up at the same time, and he sank to the ground next to Eric.
“Let’s get you down on the ground,” he said to Eric. “Flat on your back. It’ll help you breathe.”
I concentrated on Patrick, doing the same to him as I’d done to Eric. I yanked off his sweater and detached the Velcro of his bulletproof vest so I could see where he’d been hit, and the sight made me wanna hurl.
One fucking inch above the top of his vest.
“Pat, talk to me,” I said, out of breath. “Patrick.” I pressed my hands to the wound on his sternum, and the blood just seeped between my fingers. His sweater—there, I could use that. But before I got the chance, I was wrenched away by Pop.
“Son, wake up.” The urgency in Pop’s voice terrified me. “Wake up, Patrick—wake up.”
“It’s not his heart,” I insisted. “He wasn’t shot in the heart.” Acting on autopilot, I took over with Eric again, and I held the fabric over his wound and adjusted his neck. But my stare was fixed on Patrick.
Then Patrick coughed loudly and took a wheezing breath, and the relief hit me squarely in the chest. I barely registered the sound of gunfire coming from inside the house. Instead, I stared with wide eyes as Dad worked on Patrick. Our pop was no MD, but he’d practiced field medicine when he was in the military with Ian.
“Focus on breathing, son,” Pop told Patrick. “That’s my boy. Slow breaths.”
Tears flooded my eyes. Watching my big brother cough up blood stole the relief from me, and Pop didn’t look any less worried now than he had ten seconds ago.
“He’s gonna be fine, right?” I didn’t recognize my own voice.
“Hold here,” he snapped.
I rushed over and covered the wound. He’d used Pat’s sweater. In the meantime, Pop searched his pockets frantically until he retrieved his little medic kit.
“I have to get the bullet out, I have to get it out,” he chanted. “He’s bleeding too much. Doesn’t matter if it’s blocking an artery. He won’t last this way.”
I drew a shaky breath and applied pressure to the wound. Then I wiped my free hand on my thigh before I palmed Patrick’s cheek. His eyes fluttered open, only to close. Over and over. He was in and out of it.
“Patrick.” I didn’t know why I was bothering wiping his cheek; all I accomplished was smearing the goddamn blood everywhere. I sniffled and cursed. “You fucking asshole. Open your damn eyes.”
Dear God, don’t let him die.
He made a low sound and took an unsteady breath.
His eyes were halfway open when he lifted his hand and put it on top of mine that I was using to cover his wound.
I swallowed thickly as his unfocused gazed landed on my face.
“Make,” he rasped.
I quickly shook my head. “Don’t talk.”
“Not a word, boy,” Pop agreed warningly.
Pat made a face as if he was annoyed with us. And he completely ignored what we’d said.
“Make sure,” he whispered, “you cry at m-my funeral.”
I spluttered on a tearful chuckle, and panic and despair threatened to consume me. This wasn’t happening.
He mustered a ghost of a smirk. “Love you, little b-brother. M’proud.”
“Quit it,” I croaked. I sniffled and wiped my cheek on my shoulder. “Don’t fuckin’…” I forced some air into my lungs and shook my head again. “I love you, and you’re gonna be fine. You’re gonna feel like an idiot in the hospital later, and we’re gonna give you so much shit for saying good-bye too soon.”
Please, God. Spare him.
His eyes glistened, his smile was weak, and he slid his gaze to Pop. “Dad,” he murmured. “I’ll take care of—” He coughed, then groaned and coughed more, and I watched in agony while the blood splattered around his mouth. “Ma,” he finished, wheezing.
“No,” Dad gritted out. “Stop it, Patrick. I’m not losing you, too! You hear me? You stay with us.”
I had to look away. I couldn’t stop the tears anymore. They streamed down my face.
When Dad whimpered and lowered himself over Patrick, their foreheads touching, I fucking lost it. My heart broke into pieces.
“Not you too, my boy.” Pop fell apart as Patrick took his final breaths and grew still.
I swallowed the lump in my throat and shifted to Eric’s side, pressing my hands to the fabric that covered his wound.
Eric was more lucid. Lying flat on his back, he stared up at the night sky. The pain was
evident on his face, as was the grief. A tear rolled down his temple, and he clenched his jaw.
“Go take that fucking rat out,” he whispered through clenched teeth. “Go, boss.”
I nodded numbly and stood up.
On my way inside, I understood that everyone knew. I passed them all. Colm with a solemn expression, Mack with his head bowed. I couldn’t face Kellan the second I caught the despair on his face too. Adam put a hand on my shoulder and told me the estate was clear.
I sniffled and nodded with a dip of my chin, and then I pulled my shit together and jogged up the stairs.
I passed a mirror and didn’t recognize the man in the reflection. Shit, I was covered in Patrick’s and Eric’s blood. Sullivan’s too.
Reaching the landing, I stopped for a second and took a deep breath. I bent over and placed my hands on my thighs, and I forced all the pain, panic, and anger into a box in the back of my head. I locked it and threw away the key.
Fuck you, God.
Deep breath. Another and another.
36
Finnegan O’Shea
As soon as I felt calmer, I walked the last bit to the room Emilia and Autumn shared.
Liam was there. He sat on the edge of the bed, visibly exhausted and in pain from the blow to his head, but he was able to guard Gio. Emilia had lowered her gun, though her focus remained on Elena.
Emilia gasped when she saw me. “Oh my God! Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” My voice came out darker, rougher, and my gaze landed on the two Avellinos on the floor. “Where’s Autumn?”
Liam nodded at the armoire.
I cleared my throat. “Take Autumn downstairs, Emilia.”
“But—”
“Now.” I squeezed her arm gently. I didn’t wanna blow my fuse, especially not near her, but I had no patience. This was gonna happen right fucking now.
