Chapter 28 – Ethan
Twenty-Eight
Ethan
I have seconds to act. The number of men walking into the apartment doesn't seem like what you would do for a simple hit. You need at most two assassins for a hit, especially for one woman. That doesn't make me feel any better. I send out a text blast to all the available back up in my area. I don't know who can come out here on such short notice.
Reed Hollingsworth might still be in the city. Darragh's gone for the next few days. Zebulon Blackwood might be kicking around. Then Magnum and if I'm lucky, Ryder Sinclair might be out in Boston or have some contacts he can send my way.
I don't have time to wait. Only the Chrysler has a driver, so if I round the Prius and keep low, I can sneak into the apartment. I doubt they locked the front door. I get tunnel vision for that front door and it's remarkably easy to get to it undetected. I don't hear anything alarming -- no fighting, no screams, no gunshots...
My phone buzzes in my pocket, which I can only hope is one of the bastard's I messaged texting me back that they're on the way to the address. I have maybe forty-five minutes until anyone gets here. If I'm unlucky. If I'm lucky, the club moves mountains to get here in fifteen.
My gun already feels hot. I climb the stairs to the second floor condo before I finally hear deep voices and then a white woman saying loudly, "I don't care! I'm not going back to Pittsburgh!"
That must be Mallory. My heart sinks into my stomach. What if they shot Amanda? I don't think I should elbow Mallory's door open without waiting for a plan to pop into my head. Wyatt would kick my ass for a reckless move like this, but with Amanda in danger, I never stood a chance at thinking straight.
I drop my shoulder and shove the door open, entering into Mallory’s townhouse. I hear hands swooshing through the air quickly and then I hear two of the guns make clicking sounds as bullets drop into the pistol chamber. I raise my hand, dropping my weapon to the floor. I can get it back, and I have another in my cut so... I want to calm them down, not provoke them to shoot before I make sure Amanda’s safe. They look young and inexperienced. It’s a gamble, but one I’m willing to take to avoid shooting indoors where a bullet could ricochet and hurt the woman I love.
I scan the room quickly, searching only for Amanda, but noting all the details of the scene as they unfold.
She's here. Seated across from Mallory in this wine-scented room. They both look drunk, putting them at an even greater disadvantage if they ever stood a chance at all against four men, each one closer to my height than theirs.
Mobsters. Blatant mobsters with thick gold link chains and rings that could knock a man's tooth out.
"I'm here for Amanda Yancey. I don't care what you do with the other one."
"ETHAN!" Amanda squeals before one of the men wraps his hand around her mouth and puts a gun to her head. I nearly lose my shit, but I have to stay calm to meet my only goal here - getting Amanda out alive.
"He loves you," Mallory whispers, in a way that seems truly irrelevant to the situation. Of course I love Amanda.
Out of the four men in the room, I can't identify a leader until he speaks. Even then, he looks... young. No older than twenty-one years old, but almost my height. Interesting.
"No one leaves until my sister agrees to come back to Pittsburgh with us."
"I've never met you," Mallory says. "I have no proof you're my brother and I'm not seeing my father again. Never. You'll have to kill me."
Amanda makes muffled squeals into her captor's hands. I hate that he thinks he has a right to touch her.
"I'll help you take her if you let Amanda go," I insist, ignoring Amanda's glaring looks.
"Hey!" Mallory says to me, waving a drunken finger in my direction. "Don't get involved. I'm not going back to Pittsburgh."
"Our father died," the leader says. "We only need you to split his inheritance. The lawyer won't do it unless you come back."
"I have a job. I don't need that old bastard's money."
"How much money?" I ask, earning a glare from the women in the room, but sufficient interest from the mobsters. I need to buy us time…
"Millions," the leader says. He eyes me and then gestures to his men, who all lower their weapons.
"I'm Dario Corsini. This is my brother, Vito and my cousins, who are also in the family."
"Who gives a fuck?" Mallory mutters. Her brother glares at her, but turns his attention back towards me. I'm a lot more calm now that the black-haired one has his hand away from Amanda's mouth. She won't stop glaring at me, even if I would trade my own brother to get her out of this mess. My brother could handle himself -- and so can Mallory. Amanda deserves protection. She deserves the life she wants... and I might not be the perfect guy or even a good one, but I can do this one thing for her.
I can keep her safe.
"Bear," I say, sticking my hand out to shake their leader's. He has a strong, firm handshake. Amanda makes a disapproving huffy noise, which I ignore.
"The black woman is yours?"
"She's my fiancee."
"Since when?" Amanda mutters, then seems to realize that I'm simply saying what I need to assure her freedom. But also, I plan on marrying her. Perhaps not now but soon enough.
"Okay," the leader says. "Your fiancee is best friends with Emilia Corsini, which means she holds some influence. Convince my sister to come back with us."
I shrug, playing their game until I have a better read on the situation. "There are plenty of us. We can throw her in those cars you have parked outside. Good luck not getting a ticket."
"We aren't worried about that," the black-haired one, Vito, says.
Perhaps they should be considering how easy it was for me to sneak in here, but the leader throws him a glare. They have no experience with this type of work. I remember being that age and forced to rob a pawn shop in Utica with dad. I didn't have a fucking clue what I was doing. But we got that knife he pawned at Tioga Downs back... and he was so fucking proud of me.
"We can't throw her in the car," Dario says. "My brother says she needs to trust us and we can't harm her."
"She'll only be harmed if she fights."
"ETHAN!" Amanda hisses, glaring at me.
I ignore her. I'm not here to save Mallory's life. I'm here for hers.
"What happens if you fail? What will your brother do?"
The leader puffs out his chest. He seems nervous.
"Something fucked up."
"But he won't hurt her?"
"He's a complicated person," Dario says. There's just a flicker of fear in his eyes.
"Do you gamble?"
"Oh my God... "Amanda mutters. "He is not about to do this..."
The leader laughs. "Of course."
"Blackjack? Poker?"
"I'll gamble on anything."
And so will I. My body anticipates the rush. I tell myself that I'm just doing it to waste time. My phone has been vibrating like crazy in my back pocket.
"Then let's gamble for them. That way, you have a good story for your brother."
They're young enough to fall for it.
"What story?" The leader says. "Because... I was going to make Vito knock her out."
I chuckle.
"No, no... You go back to Pittsburgh and tell your brother that when you met her, she was with a crazy biker. He forced you to gamble for her life. You win, I take her back to Pittsburgh myself. I win, they both walk free and you tell your brother that she's dead."
"What incentive do you have to take her back to Pittsburgh?"
"My honor," I respond. "And if that's not enough, you can throw in a bounty from those millions."
"I see," he says. "This might work."
"I don't agree!" Mallory says. "I'm not going back to Pittsburgh."
"Ethan, do you think this is wise?" Amanda asks calmly. She's using her therapist's voice, which I find insanely sexy despite the inconvenient timing.
"Yes," I say to her, tuning out the rest of the room to fix my eyes on the woman I plan to save. "I won't lose you. I don't care if you hate me for the rest of your life."
Mallory gasps a little, but covers her mouth when Amanda glares at her.
"Clear the table," Dario says. "What do we play?"
I reach into my cut for a deck of cards. I haven't played with these cards before. I won them off an Indian one time while I was babysitting Oske out on the rez. He told me they were good luck, and I believed him. Let's hope he's right.
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