Chapter Six
Antonio
A light bulb explodes and bursts, leaving us in complete darkness when a bullet hits it.
Marco Bortelli is dead! He doesn’t know it yet, but he’s made his last move.
If it were me or any of my brothers shooting up this place, the first two bullets would have been sufficient to take us out, but the idiot couldn’t hit a barn from the inside. But even careless bullets land one time out of ten. That's why I have a fucking hole in my leg.
If Emilia gets hurt, I will wipe out the entire Bortelli lineage and not even my father or Matteo will be able to stop me!
I take advantage of the sudden darkness. With adrenaline pumping through my veins, I'm already moving. I band an arm around Emilia’s waist and haul her to her knees. "Let's move, baby," I whisper into her ear, dragging her with me across the cold, tiled floor.
A searing pain shoots through my leg from the bullet wound the fucker gave me a few days ago, but I ignore it.
The partition that divides the kitchen from the restaurant is our only barrier against the line of fire, so I drag her toward it, crawling through the assault with my body shielding hers.
When we make it into the kitchen, I push her to move to the corner where the chefs are crouched and hiding.
They’re far away from the line of fire, and once I'm assured she has joined them, then I take out my gun.
The restaurant's front door bursts open, and I listen for the footsteps. I kneel with my good leg against the partition and crack it open a tad, depending on my hearing since it's dark as shit. Four in total.
"Did we get them? We killed them, right?"
"Shut up!"
"We should leave now before the cops, or worse, the other Rossi brothers get here."
Bunch of cowards, all of them. From the way their voices shake, I can tell they're nervous. Fucking Marco couldn't afford to hire better gunmen.
"We don't leave this restaurant until I am certain Antonio Rossi is dead!
" Marco's voice rings out. I debate shooting all of them dead where they stand, but the thought of Emilia dealing with dead bodies when it's her job to save lives makes me hesitate a tad, but not long enough.
"Who the fuck does he think he is to threaten me.
Check the kitchen and the rest of you, the bathrooms. There are still lights on in there. "
"Fuck it," I mutter under my breath, using my silencer to make the first shot.
The first guy drops with a cry, so I go for the second, aiming for his chest. He drops without a sound.
The third one spins toward the partition, fumbling for his weapon, but I put a bullet through his skull before he can raise it.
Leaving two—Marco and the one whimpering gunman.
"Antonio? Come out and face me, you fucker," cries the man who just ambushed a restaurant where I was about to dine with my woman.
He could have killed her. Jesus Christ. I could have lost her.
The thought sends a sharp pain shooting through my chest, but I shake my head, unwilling to think about it.
I can’t lose her.
I won’t!
I listen to his footsteps, frantic. He whips around, searching in the dark, but the man whimpering on the floor doesn't help with his sense of direction.
"I'll return the favor to you, Marco," I call out, shooting twice, one shot for each of his legs. A payment for crippling me for days. I would have fucking preferred a bullet to the head or the heart, a clean shot that would have taken him out, but this'll have to do.
I push up to my feet, grinding my teeth at the pain that shoots up my leg. "Antonio?" Emilia whispers, and I turn to find her standing behind me, her pretty brows furrowed in concern. "Are you okay? Does your leg hurt?
"I'm fine," I reply through clenched teeth. "I need to get you out of here, baby. I'll check the back door in case more guys are waiting there, then we'll leave."
"We can't leave."
I blink in confusion at her. "What?"
"There might be survivors. I need to check—it's what I do, Antonio."
"No fucking way. They're not dead. They can deal with it until my brothers get here."
Her eyes narrow on mine, her mouth falling into a flat line. "You can either help me get to them, or I will go out there myself," she says stubbornly.
"Fuck!" I curse just as the front door opens again, so I nudge her back and raise my gun. I catch footsteps, listening, and I count three men. A light shines in the restaurant, and there is a little shuffling as the survivors on the floor groan in pain.
"Antonio, was this your work?"
Matteo.
He got here quicker than I'd have expected. I knew one of the chefs would make the call, but I didn't think my brothers would get here so fast/ But then again, we've always been a protective bunch.
I lower my gun and step from behind the partition to find three lights pointed at the writhing men on the floor. Luca, who's standing behind Matteo, points his light at Marco, whistling under his breath. "An eye for an eye and a foot for a foot. I guess you didn't need us after all."
A blonde head moves past me, and I grit my teeth as Emilia runs to the injured men.
"I need my bag," she orders in that bossy doctor voice of hers that always has my cock hardening.
"Shit, it's in my room back home. Luca, get me a first aid kit from the kitchen and a bowl with some hot water. Some towels too. Fast!"
Luca rolls his eyes but starts for the kitchen to do as his twin asks.
He takes his sweet time in there but comes back with everything she asked for, and we all shine our lights on the guys as she works on them.
If a part of me is happy that she doesn't have any pain meds to use as she patches them up, but I don't voice it.
This one will live," Emilia says, her voice clinical as she finishes bandaging the surviving gunman. She moves to Marco, who's still conscious and glaring at her despite the agony he must be in. "Him too, but he's going to need surgery if he ever wants to walk again."
"He'll get it," Matteo says flatly. "His father's problem now."
When the door opens and more men filter in, Matteo points at the men on the floor. "Take them out through the back door and load them up in the van."
“What about the—” Emilia starts, but Matteo shakes his head.
“The cleaners will handle the rest. Don't worry about it.”
I grab Emilia's shoulder before she can protest further. "Let's get you home, mia stellina. This is the third meal I've ruined for you. I have to make it up to you somehow."
"But—"
"They'll be fine," I tell her, taking her hand and pulling her through the kitchen and to the back door.
She helps hold some of my weight from my throbbing leg as we move through the alleyway.
The front of the restaurant is crowded with people trying to peer in, but I know it'll be spun as a robbery; the cops will be paid off to close the case, and the restaurant will be open tomorrow and be running like nothing ever happened.
Trusting my brothers to deal with the mess, I lead her to the black SUV idling at the curb—one of my brothers must have arranged for it.
"Don't worry about those men, Emilia. They knew what they were getting into.
You should worry about this invalid. I can barely walk. "
She smacks my shoulder, but I spot a smile as she climbs in ahead of me.
I nod to the driver, and he pulls away from the curb.
I wrap my arms around Emilia’s waist and pull her against me.
"You're going to make such a perfect mafioso’s wife," I rasp, nibbling her ear and making her shiver.
"Fuck baby, watching you work seems to turn me the fuck on. "
"Antonio," she whispers, embarrassed as her eyes shoot to the driver and then back to the hand on her knee. The little dress she has on does little to hide her pebbling nipples, and her sharp intake of breath lets me know she likes having my hands on her. "Stop it, we can't do this here."
"But I want you," I breathe, nibbling her ear as my hand climbs up her thighs, which she spreads for me despite her protests. “I just want to touch you. I can’t stop.” I slide my fingertips up her inner thigh, brushing the sensitive skin.
“Let me touch you,” I rasp into her skin as I press my thumb over her mound, causing her to jolt.
I rub the spot in slow circles, a groan humming in my chest as I feel moisture flood her panties.
She bites her lip and turns around to bury her face in my shoulder.
“When you said you didn’t want to hide me from the world, this isn’t what I thought you meant,” she pants into my neck, whimpering when I slide my finger over her panties and down the outline of her wet slit. “Oh, Antonio—”
“Shhh,” I whisper as I tug her panties to the side, making her jolt when I touch her clit.
She bites to my shoulder to stop a cry, writhing helplessly as I stroke her swelling bud the rest of the drive.
She whines when I pull my hand away, but the car jolts to a halt seconds later.
The driver keeps his eyes firmly forward—he knows better than to look—as Emilia and I climb out.
I pull her against me as we walk into her apartment building.
Her legs appear a little shaky as we walk through the lobby, and it’s unclear who’s holding whom up, but it doesn’t matter as we’re on each other the second we step into the privacy of the elevator.
Her arms circle my shoulders as I back her against the wall, kissing that sexy little mouth until we’re both out of breath.
Our lips are still on each other's as the elevator door opens on her floor, and we stumble down the hall, breaking apart as she digs into her purse for her keys.
“Open it,” I grumble, my breath hot on her neck, licking a slow line up toward her earlobe before moving to nibble the flesh under her ear. “Hurry up.”