“What is it?” Rafaela calls out from the kitchen.
“Cazzo,” Giovanni says under his breath. He reaches out and yanks me to my feet, pushing me behind him and gesturing for me to get out of the way. “Run! Hide!” he hisses.
I take off for the kitchen, grab Rafaela around the waist, and the two of us bolt for her bedroom. “I think they’ve found us,” I whisper, hastily locking the bedroom door before we run into the en suite bathroom and lock ourselves in there.
“Mierda,” she mumbles, her face going ashen gray. “What are we gonna do?”
“Be quiet and hide and hope Giovanni can keep them out, I guess,” I reply, feeling totally helpless. Out of the corner of my eye I see my jacket lying on the bathroom counter and I reach for it to take the knife out of its pocket. Rafaela looks at it wide-eyed.
“What the fuck are you planning to do with that?” she mutters, clearly terrified.
“Whatever’s necessary,” I answer shortly. “Now hush.”
We climb into the tub and pull the shower curtain closed, sitting in the dark, waiting for the inevitable battle to ensue. There’s a short silence, and then several earsplitting bangs. Rafaela starts to scream and I clap a hand over her mouth, shielding her with my arms as we huddle in the bathtub. There’s the unmistakable crack of the front door being kicked in, and the shouts of angry male voices out in the apartment. Next we hear the sound of breaking glass, the grunts and thumps of men fighting, and my heart aches for Giovanni, worrying that he might already be dead by now. From the sound of it, he’s definitely outnumbered, and it’s only a matter of time.
Suddenly, more silence.
All I can hear is Rafaela’s shallow, panicked breathing beside me in the darkness. And then a horrible voice cracking across the apartment, a familiar one I hoped to never hear again.
“Miss De Laurentis!” Lorenzo calls out, his heavy footsteps thumping the floor as he approaches the bedroom. I can hear him clearly, even through the two locked entrances. “I did tell you I’d be back to see you again, didn’t I? I have to admit, it hurts to see that you’re shacking up with other men, having a real party here tonight. Maybe my invitation got lost in the mail. I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt one more time, bella. But my patience is wearing very, very thin. Come out and see me.”
Tears pulse down Rafaela’s cheeks as she struggles to keep quiet. My heart sinks. This can’t be how this goes down. It can’t happen like this. Where is Bruno? What happened to Giovanni?
“Knock, knock!” Lorenzo shouts, banging on the bedroom door. “Come out and play!”
He tries the lock for a moment and then I hear him bark an order in Italian. A moment later, there’s a resounding crash and I just know they’ve kicked the bedroom door down.
Lorenzo laughs, a terrible, nasally sound. “Oh, these cheap apartments in the city are so shoddily made. Just fall apart all over the place. Now, those houses out in Riverdale are much better quality, aren’t they, Serena? Your daddy kept you up there in that damn mansion of his, guarding you just like all the good fortune that didn’t rightly belong to him.”
There’s a sharp rap at the bathroom door and Rafaela squeals in fear, burrowing into my side and sobbing. Lorenzo laughs again. “I wonder what your daddy would think now, hmm? His precious virginal little daughter caught up in the same shit that killed him. I doubt he’d be very proud.”
I grit my teeth, closing my eyes and tightening my grip on the knife. He’s wrong. Maybe I have made some big mistakes, but I’ll be damned if I go down without a battle. My father would’ve wanted me to fight for my life. I’ve always had to fight, ever since the day he died, and I won’t stop now.
“Last chance,” Lorenzo continues, his voice sharp and low. “Open the door and we won’t kill your Costa side piece here. We’re not after him or your little friend in there. I want you. I think we both know it’s in everybody’s best interest if you just come quietly.”
I sit there for a moment, soaking in his words. On the one hand, I don’t want to give up. It goes against my nature entirely to just surrender now. It’s what Lorenzo wants, and I would hate to ever give him the satisfaction of beating me down. And I don’t trust him to just completely let Rafaela and Giovanni go free. Lorenzo is a lying, scamming, treacherous piece of shit. I can’t take his word.
On the other hand, maybe if I give myself up without a fight he’ll take pity on me. I don’t want to risk pissing him off further and putting Rafaela and Giovanni in any more danger than they’re already in. My heart thumps away in my chest as my mind races in every direction. What the hell can I do? I’m caged here, cornered like a wild animal.
“I’m giving you a chance here, Miss De Laurentis. Give yourself up and save your friends. Or my associate here can kick the door down and kill both of them. It’s up to you. Will you sell out your friends to benefit yourself? Like your good-for-nothing daddy did?” Lorenzo snarls.
Sneering, I sit up and pull the shower curtain to one side.
“No,” Rafaela breathes. “Don’t.”
“I have to. If it gives you any chance of survival, I have to,” I reply simply, climbing out of the tub to unlock the door and deliver myself to the devil. I turn the lock and open the door, letting the light stream into the darkened bathroom. Lorenzo takes me by my knife arm and pulls me close, looking me up and down with rakish glee. One of his henchmen runs into the bathroom and grabs hold of Rafaela. Giovanni is slumped over the combined shoulders of two henchmen, looking void of life.
“You said you wouldn’t hurt them!” I shout, slapping Lorenzo across the face. He grabs my hand and wrenches it behind my back, his eyes flashing with fury.
“No, I said I would not kill them. Your guard dog here will catch a nice ransom from the Costa family. And as for you and your pretty friend, I have my own plans,” he says, smirking cruelly. Remembering my training, I manage to quickly wiggle free of Lorenzo’s grasp, using his own weight against him to pin him in the doorway with my knife pressed against his throat. I can tell the only reason I’m able to get the upper hand is by the element of surprise, but regardless I’m grateful. Two henchmen come barreling toward us to presumably free Lorenzo from me, but he shakes his head ever so slightly.
He raises an eyebrow and says, “No, no, boys. Leave us be. Miss Serena, if you kill me it will be your friend’s blood on your hands.”
I glance over to see a man holding the barrel of a gun to Rafaela’s head and my stomach turns.
Shit.
There’s nothing I can do.
“Now, let’s all just calm down and walk out of here like nothing is wrong,” Lorenzo orders.
Reluctantly, I lower my knife and allow one of the henchmen to wrest my arms behind my back, confiscating my blade in the process. Lorenzo rubs at his neck gingerly and gestures for everyone to leave, leading the way through Rafaela’s ravaged apartment. Then he falls back to walk beside me, the henchman handing me over. Lorenzo holds my wrists tightly at the small of my back, leaning in to perversely sniff at my neck.
“Smells like a glorious addition to my collection,” he says quietly as we file out of the apartment and down the hallway. “Don’t worry, there’s room enough for you and your Spanish friend in my bedroom. I think you’ll be very happy there.”
BRUNO
“How many do you see?” I ask into the burner phone, my other wrist resting on the wheel of the car as I sit back and let my shoulders relax. I wonder if I’ll ever be immune to that tension I feel in my back that wells up when I know I’m about to take a life.
Tonight, it will be many lives.
“At least eight,” says Nico through the phone, his voice so hushed I wouldn’t be able to hear him if I weren’t in the privacy of the car. “The intel was good. Irish are here. I’ve seen a couple of them before. Nobody too important. They must be cautious.”
“Smart,” I say, putting my phone between my shoulder and jaw to free up my hands and let me check over the weapons I have strapped t
o me.
Nico is about a block away, perched up on a rooftop and watching the meeting site through the scope of a sniper rifle. I’m sitting in my car around the block, out of sight until I’m ready to move.
He’s being my eyes for now, but he’s a damn good shot, too. A weapon like the one he has isn’t one you use lightly, so this needs to count. He offered it to me, but I’m more of a hands-on man.
I want to look Lorenzo in the eyes when I kill him.
“Five Cleaners, three Irish,” Nico confirms.
“And Lorenzo?” I ask.
“No sight of him…” Nico says, trailing off. “Wait. There’s a car pulling up. Tinted windows, but the Irish are watching it.”
“There he is,” I say, smiling.
“Window’s coming down,” Nico whispers. “Someone inside is saying something. I think it’s Lorenzo in there, but it’s hard to tell. Shit, I can’t line up a good shot, the people outside keep moving too much. One miss and that car will tear out of here.”
“I’ll take care of that,” I say casually, rolling my shoulders back and putting my car into gear.
“What?”
“Be ready.”
“Bruno, what are y-” but I end the call before Nico can finish. Headlights off, I pull out, my jaw set.
I’m not giving Lorenzo half a chance to slip away again.
My engine tears down the narrow road as I near the meeting site. They’ve heard me by now, and in a few moments, they’ll realize I’m coming their way. No time for hesitation now, I have to strike fast.
I come up on the corner fast, and I use the handbrake to pull a hard, screeching turn to point the front of my car right down the alley. As soon as I do, I flip my brights on, and I’m treated to the sight of exactly what Nico described: one black sedan and eight men looking at me, wide-eyed and stunned.
I throw the car back into gear and barrel down the alley.
A couple of the men are sharp and quick enough to dive for cover, but the car doesn’t have the blessing of being able to get moving so fast.
I can hear curses and shouts from the group and I tear forward, and I brace myself for impact.
Metal groans with a loud crash and glass shatters as my car rams the black sedan, my whole body lurching forward with the momentum. I had time to see the driver’s door crumple and the driver throw his arms up in defense before I covered my eyes with my arm, and I feel the sting of glass in my own skin.
In the next moment, a stunned silence like the calm before the storm, I roll out of the car and draw my weapons.
“Lorenzo!” I shout, and the word has hardly left my mouth before I hear bullets start flying.
A pistol in each hand, I open fire on the car while I run for cover. The driver is slumped over his wheel and a man in the back isn’t moving, but the rest are scrambling to spill out the other side.
In front of the car, two Cleaners are already firing at me, and with a quiet thud I see one of them jolt, a bullet wound in his head, and he slumps to the ground.
Nico is giving me cover with his rifle.
“A fucking sniper!” the other man calls, a moment before another bullet silences him too.
Three Cleaners are still standing, not counting the three more from the car who I can now see clearly. I feel rage boil up within me as I see each of their faces.
Lorenzo isn’t among them.
As the three remaining Cleaners open fire, I dive behind a battered dumpster. I hear the sound of hurried footsteps, and I turn to see the three Irish making a run for it. I let them go—someone will need to spread the word tonight.
Bullets spray my cover, and as I blindfire back at them, I hear another dull thud, and the firing stops as the men shout at each other to take cover from the sniper. It’s a chance I have to seize.
I leap out from cover and charge after the three from the car who are trying to dig their heels in behind its ruins. I leap over my own car and rain bullets down on them, catching one in the heart and putting him to the ground while the others scramble to react.
They weren’t expecting such a flagrant attack, and if I’m honest, neither was I—but I’m seeing red, and these men will pay for their deception.
At close range, one man tries to swing at me. I dodge his blow and catch his wrist, pulling him around my front with the sickening sound of his elbow getting broken. I use his shoulder as a rest to fire at the third man, who takes a bullet to the shoulder and staggers back, diving around the front of their car.
I curse and put my gun to my captive’s head, executing him swiftly. I have just half a second to take cover before the injured man starts blind-firing at me.
He’s got me pinned down, and I know Nico can’t get a good shot at him while he’s crouching behind the front of the car. I’m crouching by the driver’s door—we’re so close I can hear him breathing, but neither of us can pop out of cover without getting shot, and with the other three Cleaners still alive and trying to get a shot at me, my time is running out.
Then a steady rumbling sound catches my attention—the Cleaners’ car is still running. Without a second thought, I pull the car door open, pull the dead man out, climb in, and keep my head down before flooring the acceleration.
I hear a surprised scream from the man as the car plows over him, and I roll back out the moment he’s down to finish him off with a quick shot. A loud clang tells me the force of the impact knocked the already-loose car door off its hinges, and it now lies flat on the ground nearby.
I feel the sting of a bullet hit my arm, and I draw in a sharp breath through my teeth—the three remaining Cleaners are getting bolder, and I turn to see they’ve found cover behind the dumpster.
My adrenaline is pumping, I’m exposed, and I don’t have time to think. In a fluid motion, I seize the car door and lift it up like a shield to cover my body. I hardly feel its weight with the rush of the fight coursing through my veins. It’s by no means good protection, but it’s better than nothing.
Nothing else to lose, I charge them.
I see one of them peek around the corner, and his face goes white at the sight of me, battered, half-covered in blood, furiously rushing them with a car door for a shield. I must look like some lunatic barbarian warrior, out of time and place in reality.
Bullets start raining in on my barrier, and some ricochet off to the brick walls around us, while some make it through, and I feel the hot sting pierce my other arm and my shoulders as bullets graze them.
But by the time I make it to them, two of them stagger back when I hurl the thing at them. One man gets the full force of it, and the others stagger back for fear that I’m going to charge through the lot of them.
I put a bullet in one of the two while Nico picks off the other.
Before he can struggle for his gun, I put my foot on top of the car door, pinning the man under it with a pained grunt as I point my pistol at him. I don’t know when I dropped my other one, but at this point, I don’t care.
“Lorenzo,” I bark, bloodthirsty eyes boring into his pained face. “Where is he?”
“Vaffanculo,” he spits, and I have no patience to twist him for information.
I pull the trigger, leaving his brains on the asphalt.
I hold my weapon pointed at the body for a few moments before I realize I can hear the ringing in my ears, feel my chest rising and falling, the tension in my gritted teeth. I lower my gun, looking around at the scene.
Eight bodies, two wrecked cars, walls and ground riddled with bullet holes, and more blood than I’ve seen in a long time. The Cleaners’ car is devastated, but somehow, mine looks...well, it’s serviceable. I hear the engine still running, at least, and there are only a few bullet holes in it.
For a moment, everything around me feels like it’s dulled by the ringing in my ears, but that soon fades as I realize I can hear the buzz of my phone from my car. I stride toward it, broken glass crunching underfoot. I calmly pull the car door open and reach to the floorboard to pick up the
phone.
It’s Nico.
I put the phone to my ear and look up to his location. “Still with me up there?”
“Bruno, what in the everloving fuck was that?!” he snaps, but I just grin up at him and wink.
“Come on, dinner with Rafaela’s parents can’t be much worse than this,” I say. There’s a solid five seconds of silence from the other end of the call. “What, did I cross the line?”
“Hold still, I’m deciding whether to shoot you now or later,” Nico says. “Christ, Bruno, warn me before you pull that cowboy bullshit next time. You alright? You’re covered in blood.”
I look down at myself. I can’t feel much of the pain yet, thanks to the rush of adrenaline still surging through me. “Most of it’s not mine. Glass cuts, a few grazing shots, and I’d say they got two good shots in,” I say, checking out the bloody mess of my shoulder.
“There’s a saint watching over you somewhere, I swear,” Nico says.
“Lorenzo wasn’t here, Nico,” I say. I’m oddly calm. “Was this another trap?”
“I don’t know,” Nico admits, “I’ll go take care of my informant. Bruno, do you-”
“You do that,” I say, striding back to my car and stowing my weapons, picking up the one I’d dropped. I’m going to need every bullet I’ve got left. “Save yourself some time and put a bullet in him for me.”
“Bruno, what are you doing?”
I get into my car, putting it into reverse and moving my battered car back out of the wreckage, a grim look on my face.
“I have a bad feeling. I need to get to Serena. Now.”
SERENA
“Where are you taking us?” I ask, sitting blindfolded in the back seat of what feels like a rickety old van. Every time we go over a speed bump the whole vehicle rattles ominously, like it’s just seconds away from falling apart completely. It feels like quite a departure from the usual sleek, shiny black company cars the mafia uses.
“Somewhere very nice,” Lorenzo answers smugly from somewhere ahead of me. I assume he’s in the front passenger seat, with one of his henchmen driving. I’m seated next to Rafaela, whose hand is clutched in mine. Her fingers are clammy and cold and every now and then I give her a squeeze of reassurance, even though I’m desperately in need of reassurance myself. The guilt I feel for getting her involved in this mess is overwhelming. After my mother and Bruno, Rafaela is the most important person in my life, and I can’t believe I’ve allowed my own mess to infect her life, too.
Bound for Life (Bound to the Bad Boy Book 1) Page 20
