21. Jazz
21
JAZZ
T he night air clings to my skin like a second layer as I lean against Nerio's BMW, watching shadows dance across brick walls. His presence beside me radiates tension, a coiled spring waiting to snap. Marco paces near the entrance of the narrow alley, checking his phone every few minutes.
"They took the bait." Marco's voice cuts through the silence. "Tony's crew spotted three of their cars heading this way."
Nerio's jaw tightens. He adjusts the shoulder holster beneath his suit jacket. "How many?"
"At least eight." Marco tucks his phone away. "Maybe more inside."
"Perfect." Nerio's lips curl into that dangerous smile I've come to know too well. His hand finds the small of my back, guiding me deeper into the shadows. "Stay close, little dove."
The warehouse looms ahead, its weathered sign creaking in the breeze. Small groups of Bueti men emerge from the darkness like ghosts, taking positions around the building. The narrow alley behind it forms a natural choke point - a death trap for anyone stupid enough to walk into it.
Tony materializes beside us, all business. "Perimeter's set. We've got eyes on both exits."
"They're here." Marco's whisper carries through the stillness.
Engines purr in the distance. Nerio pulls me to the back of the alley where I shouldn't get heard, tucking me behind massive wooden crates. He kisses me harshly then drags his lips along my cheek. "Stay here." His breath tickles my ear. "Remember what I said – if anything goes wrong, you run. Don't look back."
"I'm not leaving you." The words slip out before I can stop them.
His grip tightens. "You'll do exactly as I say."
Footsteps echo off brick walls. Voices drift closer - angry, determined. I count the seconds between each breath. This is the calm before the storm, the moment when everything hangs in perfect balance.
"Get ready." Marco's hand moves to his weapon.
"Don't move unless someone tells you to run," Nerio reminds me before turning and moving back up the alley. Where he'll defend me.
The trap is set. Now we wait.
I try to run through all the ways Nerio taught me how to fight earlier. I was more than glad he armed me, even if the weight of the Glock 19 feels foreign against my hip, even after Nerio's impromptu shooting lesson earlier. My fingers brush the grip, remembering his hands positioning mine.
"Wider stance." His chest had pressed against my back as he adjusted my form. "Both eyes open. Breathe out when you squeeze the trigger."
I'd managed to hit the makeshift target more times than I missed, but paper doesn't shoot back.
Marco gestures for me to stay behind a stack of wooden crates. I crouch down, heart hammering against my ribs. The voices grow louder, echoing off concrete walls.
I can't see anything from here. The need to know what's happening claws at my chest. Despite Nerio's orders, I edge forward, staying low. Years of dance training make my movements silent as I slip between crates.
A better vantage point reveals Nerio and his men spread out in defensive positions. Marco signals something I can't interpret. Metal scrapes against metal - magazines being checked, safeties clicking off.
"Remember," Nerio's voice carries just enough for his men to hear. "We want to prove dominance. Capos, we take. Soldiers are taken out. The rest are expendable."
My palms sweat around the grip of the gun. The lessons replay in my head: rack the slide, align the sights, squeeze don't pull. I shouldn't be here. Should've listened. Should've stayed put. But the thought of Nerio facing danger while I hide makes my stomach turn.
I press myself against a concrete pillar, close enough now to see everything but still hidden in shadow. Nerio's head snaps toward my movement. Even in the dim light, I catch the flash of anger in his eyes when he spots me.
Too late to retreat now. Footsteps sound at the end of the alley.
The first shot cracks through the night like thunder. I flinch, pressing harder against the pillar as chaos erupts. Bodies surge forward, shouts and curses filling the alley.
"You're on our territory, Mantione!" Nerio's voice cuts through the mayhem.
Glass shatters. The acrid smell of gunpowder burns my nostrils. Through the haze, I catch glimpses of the fight - a brutal dance of fists and firearms. Marco slams someone against the wall while Tony disarms another with practiced efficiency.
"Fuck you, Bueti!" A voice I don't recognize. "This block is going to belong to us!"
More shots ring out, but they're aimed high - warnings rather than kill shots. A window explodes overhead, raining glass. I duck, covering my head.
I had heard Marco talking earlier. That the Mantiones thought the security would be light here tonight and they could move in, taking the product, hit the Buetis hard. They seemed to think they could start taking some territory that didn't belong to them.
But instead, they found an ambush.
"That what Luca told you?" Nerio laughs, the sound dangerous. "Your boss is getting desperate."
Two men grapple near me, trading blows. Blood sprays as a nose breaks. Someone crashes into a stack of crates, wood splintering.
"You think this changes anything?" One of the Mantione capos steps forward, his suit pristine despite the chaos. "We're not backing down."
"Then you're dumber than you look." Marco drives his knee into someone's stomach. "Tell Luca to remember his place."
The fighting intensifies. Bodies slam against concrete. Brass knuckles flash in the dim light. I watch Nerio move through the violence like he's conducting an orchestra, each strike calculated and precise.
"Last chance," Nerio calls out. "Walk away while you still can."
But we all know they aren't backing out.
And then the gunfire starts up again.
I can't tear my eyes away from Nerio as he moves through the chaos. His movements are fluid, precise - like a predator who's done this a thousand times before. He catches a punch aimed at his jaw, twisting the attacker's arm until bone snaps. The man's scream cuts off as Nerio's elbow connects with his temple.
"You really thought you could come into my territory and not face consequences?" Nerio's voice carries over the fighting, cold and sharp as steel. He drives his knee into someone's ribs, following through with a brutal uppercut that leaves them sprawled on the concrete. "Amateur mistake."
My finger stays steady on the trigger, just like he taught me. But I don't need to fire - Nerio and his men have complete control of the situation. There's an art to his violence, a deadly grace in every calculated strike. He doesn't waste energy on flashy moves or unnecessary force. Each hit serves a purpose, designed to disable and dominate.
A Mantione soldier rushes him from behind. Nerio spins, catching the man's throat in a vice grip before slamming him face-first into the brick wall. Blood paints the concrete as the man crumples.
"Getting sloppy, boys." Nerio straightens his jacket, stepping over an unconscious body. "Is this really the best Luca could send?"
Two more charge him simultaneously. He weaves between them like smoke, letting their momentum carry them past before striking. His fist finds kidneys, solar plexus, weak points that leave them gasping. When one pulls a knife, Nerio disarms him with almost lazy efficiency, turning the blade against its owner.
"Next time," he says, voice dropping to that dangerous purr that makes my skin tingle, "bring better fighters."
The fight shifts suddenly as three Mantione soldiers converge on Nerio. My heart stops as moonlight glints off steel - a blade slashing through the air. Nerio dodges the first swing, but another attacker drives forward. The knife catches his side, tearing through his jacket.
Red fills my vision. The gun steadies in my hands as muscle memory takes over. Both eyes open. Wider stance. Exhale.
The shot cracks through the alley. The man with the knife stumbles backward, clutching his shoulder. Blood seeps between his fingers as he crashes into a pile of crates.
"You fucking bitch!" One of his friends turns toward my position, raising his weapon.
Nerio's expression transforms into something terrifying. "Big mistake." He drives his elbow into the man's throat before he can aim, following through with a brutal knee to the stomach. "Looking at her was your last mistake."
"Behind you!" I call out as another soldier charges.
My second shot goes wide, but it's enough to make the attacker hesitate. Nerio capitalizes on the distraction, spinning to catch the man's arm and driving him face-first into the brick wall.
"I told you to stay back." Nerio's voice carries equal parts fury and concern as he dispatches another attacker.
"You're bleeding." My hands shake slightly as I keep the gun trained on the remaining threats.
"And you're supposed to be hidden." He moves toward me, gray eyes blazing. "We'll discuss your disobedience later."
Somehow, it doesn't take long for Nerio to get pulled away. He's fighting so fast I can barely follow him. The gun shakes in my hands as I try to keep track of the chaos. Bodies move like shadows through gunsmoke and moonlight.
Heavy footsteps behind me. I go to spin, but too late.
"Drop it." Cold metal presses against my temple. The man towers over me, his expensive suit splattered with blood. A capo, judging by the way he carries himself.
My finger tightens on the trigger.
"I wouldn't." He digs the barrel harder against my skin. "Your boyfriend's busy at the moment."
Through the haze, I spot Nerio locked in combat with two soldiers. Marco's nowhere in sight.
"You must be Jazz." The capo's breath reeks of cigarettes. "Nerio's latest toy. He should know better than to bring a woman to-"
I drive my elbow back, aiming for his solar plexus. He catches my arm, twisting until pain shoots through my shoulder. The gun clatters to the ground.
"Feisty." He slams me against the wall, knocking the air from my lungs. "I like that."
"Get your hands off me." I spit the words through clenched teeth.
"Or what?" His laugh feels like oil on my skin. "You'll shoot me again? Face it sweetheart, you're-"
The capo's words cut off in a wet gurgle. Blood sprays across my face as Nerio appears behind him, blade glinting in the darkness. The pressure on my throat vanishes as the man crumples.
"I warned them." Nerio's voice is ice, his eyes savage as he advances on the fallen capo. "Nobody. Touches. What's. Mine." Each word punctuated by a vicious kick.
"Nerio." I touch his arm. He's trembling with barely contained rage.
His hands frame my face, checking for injuries. "Are you hurt?"
"I'm okay." My voice shakes. "Just-"
"I told you to stay hidden." His thumb brushes blood from my cheek - not mine. "You could have been killed."
"They had you outnumbered."
"And I'd fucking die for you any day."