Chapter 18
Augusto
As Lorenzo drives us toward the warehouse near the shipping yard where we print the counterfeit notes, I mumble, “You and my sister.”
“Yep.”
I’m still trying to process the shock that came out of left field when he told me he wants to date Bianca.
“Why?”
“Do you really want to hear why I have the hots for Bianca?”
“No,” I grumble.
The fucker chuckles. “She’s the life of every party. She lights up every room she walks into, and I love that she always speaks her mind.”
Hearing how in love he is, I wonder how the fuck I didn’t see it.
“I’m serious about Bianca,” he repeats the words he told me earlier when he asked for my blessing.
“Be good to her,” I say.
“I will.”
Lorenzo pulls up to the warehouse, and as we get out, a bullet bounces off the back window right beside me.
I react instantly, drawing my weapon while I duck, but a bullet rips through my jacket and grazes the left side of my chest, before it slams into the front passanger seat. The wound burns like a match has been lit to my skin.
Lorenzo slides over the hood of the SUV to get to me while the SUV with Santi and John pulls in front of us to offer us cover.
“Are you okay?” Lorenzo shoves my jacket off and rips my shirt, buttons popping off in his rush to check the wound.
“We have to move!” I grind the words out through clenched teeth, rage filling every inch of me. “And find that fucking shooter!”
I’m shoved back into the armored SUV while Lorenzo gives the guards orders. As I watch him run around the front of the vehicle, my heart rate speeds up when another bullet hits the corner of the windshield, missing him by mere inches.
When he jumps into the driver's seat, I snap, “Get us out of here!”
The tires spin as he floors the gas, and when we speed away from the warehouse, I glance out the window, searching for the sniper.
I see something glint on top of a warehouse, and pointing at it, I say, “The fucker is up on that roof.” I dial Santi’s number and tell him where to go with strict orders to bring the sniper in alive.
We remain on high alert as Lorenzo drives toward the hospital.
“Who do you think is behind the assassination attempt?”
I move my shirt out of the way and look at the groove that’s oozing blood. “Fuck knows, but the shooter has shitty aim.”
Just as Lorenzo brings the SUV to a screeching stop by the hospital, my phone begins to ring, showing Santi’s name.
“Give me good news.”
“We have the shooter, boss. He’s Japanese.”
A cruel smile tugs at my mouth. “Good work. Take him to the cellar at my dad’s place.”
I end the call and quickly dial Dad’s number.
“Hi, son,” he answers.
“Someone just tried to kill me. Santi and John are bringing him to you. Don’t let Mom find out.”
Worry tenses his voice as he asks, “Are you okay?”
“The bullet only grazed my chest, but I’m bleeding a lot. We’re at the hospital. I’ll swing by as soon as Dr. Milazzo has stitched me up.”
“Christ, Augusto! I’ll make the fucker comfortable while we wait for you.”
“Just don’t kill him.”
“I’ll do my best.”
As the call ends, I shake my head. “Let’s get this over with quickly before my dad has all the fun, and we’re left with a mangled body.”
Lorenzo chuckles as we get out of the SUV and hurry into the hospital.
“Santi said the shooter’s Japanese,” I tell my friend as Simone rushes toward us.
“What are we dealing with?” she asks.
“A bullet grazed the left side of his chest,” Lorenzo informs her.
“Come this way,” she instructs, her tone professional.
While we follow her to one of the rooms, she makes a call. “Dr. Milazzo, please come to room three. Mr. Vitale’s here.”
I catch a glimpse of Rocco’s wife and their baby sitting in another room and ask, “Why are they here?”
Because the hospital belongs to the Cosa Nostra, Simone informs us, “It’s a routine check-up for Rocco Jr.” She gestures to the bed. “Please sit and take off your shirt, Mr. Vitale.”
Lorenzo helps me, fussing around me like a damn mother hen, and it has me snapping, “I’m fine. Go have a cigarette.”
“You sure?”
I jerk my head in the direction of the door. “Go.”
Dr. Milazzo comes in right after Lorenzo leaves, and for the next twenty minutes, I sit and stew while the doctor cleans the wound and gives me stitches.
“You should stay overnight for observation,” the good doctor says.
While I put on my shirt again, I shake my head. “You know that’s not going to happen.”
“It was worth a try,” he mutters. “How’s Yuki doing?”
“Fine. She’s reached her goal weight.”
“That’s good to hear. I’ll come by the house tomorrow to check on both of you.”
I pat Dr. Milazzo’s shoulder. “Thanks for patching me up.”
“Let me get some painkillers for you to take home,” he says when I walk toward the door.
“Don’t worry about it. My mother keeps my medicine cabinet stocked.”
When I shrug my jacket on, Dr. Milazzo exclaims, “You need to be careful, or you will pull the stitches!”
Shoving my gun back into my chest holster, I walk out of the room while saying, “See you tomorrow, Doctor.”
Lorenzo’s been waiting in the hallway and pushes away from the wall. “How are you doing?”
“Pissed off.”
“I’m talking about the wound.”
“I’m fine.” When it looks like he’s going to say more, I shake my head. “It comes with the territory. You won’t be able to stop every bullet that comes my way.”
“Yeah, but I can at least die trying,” he grumbles.
After we get into the SUV, Lorenzo holds the round out to me. “I got it from the seat. There’s something carved into it. I think it’s Japanese.”
I take the round from him and inspect it. Wanting to know what it says, I pull out my phone and take a photo of the inscription. Checking with Google, I smile when a translation pops up.
“Revenge for the Yakuza,” I read out loud.
Lorenzo’s eyebrows lift as he steers the SUV out of the parking area of the hospital. “Seriously? They left a calling card?”
While he drives us to my parents’ house, I ask, “Would the Yakuza really be this stupid to try to take me out?”
“I don’t know. It sounds shady to me.”
“Why would Tanaka go through with the whole peace deal and wedding only to take a hit at me a month later?”
Lorenzo shakes his head. “Maybe someone’s not happy that you married Yuki, or they're trying the fuck with the peace treaty?”
“Hopefully, we’ll be able to get some answers from the shooter.” I let out a sigh as I look down at my ruined shirt. “If my mother sees me like this, she’s going to lose her shit.”
“We’ll smuggle you into the cellar, then you can get a shirt from your dad.”
When Lorenzo pulls up the driveway of my parents’ place, I don’t see the car Mom usually takes and let out a breath of relief.
The moment he parks behind Dad’s car, I shove the door open. Seeing John, I ask, “Has the fucker said anything?”
“He says he’ll only talk to you. Your father is going to town on his ass. There’s no stopping him.”
“Jesus,” I snap as I jog toward the cottage that’s on top of the cellar. When I walk into the living room where the guards take their breaks, I see Uncle Milo and Uncle Marcello. “You left him alone with the guy?”
“You know there’s no stopping your father when he’s angry,” Uncle Milo replies. When Lorenzo comes in behind me, my uncle looks at his son. “Are you okay?”
“No. Augusto almost died on my watch,” Lorenzo grumbles.
I leave them and hurry down the stairs. Santi is standing outside the soundproof door, and when he sees me, panic tightens his features. “I tried to stop him, boss, but your father kicked me out.”
When I yank the door open, I’m met with the sound of flesh being pulverised with a bat.
“Dad, come on!” I say as I pull the door shut behind me. “I need to get information from the fucker before you kill him.”
Dad drops the bat on the concrete floor where blood is pooling beneath the Asian man hanging from the chain bolted to the ceiling.
“Christ.” Dad darts toward me and shoves my shirt to the side. When he sees the bandage, he lets out a growl, and I have to move fast to grab hold of his arm before he kills my prisoner.
“I’m fine, Dad. It’s just a scratch. Calm down so we can question the fucker.”
“This is as calm as you’re going to get. No one tries to kill my fucking son and lives another day, so ask your questions so I can end him.”
I look at the man and get right to the point. “I’m not falling for the inscription on the round. Who do you work for?”
Blood and spit dribble from his mouth as he answers, “Tanaka. He said to deliver a message to you.”
“What?”
“You never apologized for all the men you killed. He’s offended.”
I let out a dark chuckle as I shake my head. “Yeah, I don’t believe that either. Who’s behind the attack?”
He tries to lean his head against his arm so he can look me in the eye as he says, “Tanaka.”
“You get one more chance,” I growl. “Who’s behind the attack?”
Unable to keep his head up, his chin drops to his chest as he mumbles, “Tanaka.”
Looking at Dad, I let out a sigh. “He’s not going to talk.”
Dad picks up the bat again, and letting out a brutal roar, he breaks it against the man’s head, killing him.
“Do you feel better now?” I ask.
He shakes his head, and pulling me into a hug, he holds me fucking tight. “You need to be more careful.”
“Okay.”
Pushing me away, his eyes drift over my face. “First Riccardo and now you. I’m going to die of a heart attack this year if another one of my children gets hurt.”
“I’ll add more guards to everyone, and I’ll wear a vest from now on,” I say to put his mind at ease.
Dad looks at my ruined shirt. “I’ll get you something to wear.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
When we walk out of the cellar, I order Santi, “Have the men get rid of the body.”
“Yes, boss.”
While Dad goes to get me a fresh shirt, I take a seat on one of the couches in the living room of the cottage and dig the round out of my pocket.
Staring at the inscription and thinking about what the shooter said, my gut is one hundred percent certain there’s a third party involved.
Someone wants the Cosa Nostra to resume the war with the Yakuza.