CHAPTER TWELVE
ROME
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Another shot rang out.
The bullet tore through the wall right next to me. I needed to get to that motherfucker, but he was firing blindly now. I immediately moved to the doorway as he continued to shoot. A voice filled the air. But it wasn’t Pasquale’s.
"Boss? Boss, are you still there? Are you okay?"
The phone!
He hadn’t ended the call. Like the bitch he was, he’d dropped the phone when he dove behind the bed. Another shot rang out. Wood exploded from the dresser.
"Do I sound okay?" Pasquale yelled to the caller. "Get in here and fucking kill him."
The guy on the other end of the phone didn't sound too concerned for his boss.
"North and East are already on the way."
As I stared down the hall, gun raised in case they came around the corner, another shot rang out. Pasquale was still firing blindly, trying to keep me away from him. Nothing would keep me away from this motherfucker!
"You get in here, too," Pasquale shouted to the caller. “I need all of you.”
"Boss, Don Corradini told me to guard the front gate and keep him updated on what went on here. I have to call him and let him know about your latest fuck up."
Wait! The front gate guard wasn't one of Pasquale's men. He worked for the Corradinis. The crime family stationed him here to monitor my cousin. Apparently, they didn't trust Pasquale nearly as much as he thought they did.
Interesting.
The guard didn’t seem worried about my cousin at all. He was more interested in filling in the Corradinis on what was going down.
"You bastard!" Pasquale roared. “Get in here.”
Another shot rang out. His tenth shot! This one struck the wall in the hallway. Enough of this shit. I leaned out from the doorway. I saw Pasquale’s hand on the bed, gun aimed at the doorway.
The rest of his body was hidden behind the mattress. I fired. Pasquale cried out, his weapon clattering to the floor.
“Fuck! You shot my hand.”
I could hear him moving around as I entered the room and leapt onto the bed. With his uninjured hand, he weakly grabbed his weapon and looked up to find me standing on the bed, staring down, gun trained on him.
His injured hand was covered in blood, and his white T-shirt was splattered with red stains. His left hand still held a gun, but from the way he was holding it, I could tell it wasn’t his dominant hand.
“Fuck you!” Pasquale yelled as he aimed at my head and squeezed the trigger.
Click.
Click.
I smiled. On that tenth shot, my cousin had run out of bullets. Shock then fear registered in his expression when he realized he was fucked. Pasquale looked up at me, blood running down his injured hand.
"Don't shoot," he yelled.
"Why not? You shot me."
His gaze flickered to the hole in my shirt. “But you... You don’t seem shot.” He frowned. “I did shoot you, didn’t I?”
“Yeah, you shot me, cousin.”
He swallowed. "I... I thought you were an intruder."
"I am. Just like the intruders you sent my way to end me."
The fear melted from his expression, leaving anger in its wake.
"What do you expect me to do? You’re like a poison to this family,” Pasquale sneered.
“What?”
"The Italy Cattaneos spent years trying to leave violence and bloodshed behind. Years trying to move on from what our ancestors were. Then you showed up and started dragging us right back into it. We know about all the trouble you’ve gotten into with the DeLucas.
The attack at Tower D. The shootout you and Terzo DeLuca were involved in at that nightclub. We know about it all."
Damn. I’d forgotten about the nightclub incident. It occurred during my first days here, before the casino was established. I’d only gone to the club to meet one of Terzo's contacts with him.
Minutes after arriving, we were fired upon. It’s true, whenever the two of us got together, shit happened. Yet, we always ended up being the last two standing. I could see where Pasquale was coming from.
Before I arrived in Italy, the family here was able to keep their old ways buried. I came in stirring up trouble. I got that. What I didn’t get was how this motherfucker had the audacity to complain about my criminal shit when he was the consigliere for a crime family.
A crime family he wasn’t related to. And the rest of the family didn’t know about it. They thought I was their main problem. Truth was, one of their own was the problem. Gritting my teeth, I listened as my cousin continued spouting hypocritical nonsense.
“Other families are starting to notice us now. When they hear your name, they associate the shit you’re involved in with us,” he yelled. “We’re trying to stay above board, handle things in a legal manner while you...”
"I call bullshit,” I drawled, interrupting his weak-ass speech.
“W-what?” he stammered.
“I said I call bullshit. Everything you’re saying is bullshit. You say you’re all about family, yet you tried to have me killed tonight.”
"You left me no choice. I was trying to protect this family from you."
"Protect them?" I laughed. "You're a hypocrite."
“Me? How?”
"I know you're the Consigliere for the Corradinis."
For a second, he just stared at me. Then he opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. No words came out. For once, the bastard didn't have an argument ready.
"The biggest threat to the Cattaneos in Italy isn't me," I told him. "It's you."
His expression darkened, but he remained silent.
"You went behind everyone's back and entered the criminal world while pretending you were just a lawyer. You spent months preaching about protecting the family while secretly working for another crime family. You sabotaged my casino, not to keep our family safe, but to make way for another family to establish their own casino. You’re not all about family. You’re the Corradini’s bitch. "
“Why couldn’t you just stay in the US?” Pasquale sneered.
“Why couldn’t you just practice what you preached?” I countered.
“I... The Corradinis came to me with a proposition. They offered me money and power. You of all people should understand that.”
“I would never work for another family just to have money and power.”
“You work for the DeLucas.”
“With. I work with the DeLucas. There’s a difference.
I would never work for anyone other than myself and my family.
That’s what makes us different. I really do care about my family.
In every meeting I have with shareholders, I remind them that I’m from the US branch of the Cattaneo family and assure them they’ll only be dealing with our US branch and the DeLucas here in Italy, not the Cattaneos here.
I’ve kept myself separate from you all, protecting you the best way I can.
Yet, you’re putting your family here in danger by associating with the Corradinis. ”
My cousin started to say something. Instead, he sighed and looked away from me, lowering his arm, weapon falling to the floor.
"Okay. You know the truth,” he rasped. “What are you going to do about it?" he asked. "Tell my father? Tell the others?"
"Fuck your father and the others."
His gaze snapped back to mine. “What?”
"I'm here to kill you. Not rehabilitate your weak ass."
I aimed directly at his head.
“Rome, wait!” he yelled.
A gunshot rang out. The window exploded beside me. Glass showered across the floor, covering Pasquale, who turned onto his side to avoid it. I spun toward the doorway. A guard stumbled into the room, falling to his knees.
His eyes were red, and tears were streaming down his cheeks. He started wheezing, spit flying from his mouth. The gun slipped from his hand as he collapsed onto the floor, a coughing fit overtaking him.
The tear gas had done its job. And it had saved my life. Because if that guard's aim had been true, I'd be dead right now. I started to look away from the guard who was struggling to breathe.
However, my momentary distraction cost me the upper hand. As soon as I turned around, Pasquale slammed into me from the side, clipping my legs. The impact knocked me off balance.
I crashed onto the bed as my weapon discharged into the ceiling. Debris rained down onto us. Before I could recover, Pasquale grabbed my wrist and slammed it against the headboard.
Pain should've exploded through my arm. It didn't. However, the gun flew across the room. Fuck. Pasquale immediately scrambled after it. So did I. I grabbed the back of his shirt and yanked him backward before he could climb off the bed.
The fabric tore beneath my grip. Pasquale spun around and drove his fist into my jaw. My head snapped to the side. A wave of dizziness that probably had more to do with the blood loss from my gunshot wound than his punch washed over me.
I swung, striking him in the face. Even though I wasn’t in pain, my movements were slower than normal. I had to finish this and get home to stitch this wound up. But Pasquale wasn’t making it easy for me.
Even with his right hand wounded, he was fighting back. He elbowed me in the mouth. I tasted blood as I sat up and punched him in the face, bruising my knuckles on his teeth. The room began to spin around me.
I blinked, trying to keep my prey in focus. His legs kicked out as he fought against me, knocking a lamp from his end table. From the corner of my eye, I caught sight of movement in the hall.
I sat up, lifting Pasquale’s body with me. Another shot rang out from the doorway. Pasquale jerked, eyes widening.
“Fuck! Sorry, boss,” the guard cried before sliding down the wall in the hall, coughing and rubbing his eyes.
I stared down at where Pasquale had been shot in the left arm. Yet, the bastard still had some fight in him. He stared down at the hole in my shirt. A smile spread across his face as he shoved his finger directly into the bullet wound beneath my shoulder.
I felt nothing.
Pasquale's smile disappeared. He pushed harder. Still nothing. I wrapped my hand around the back of his neck and drove my forehead into his face. His nose cracked. Blood sprayed across the front of his shirt.
It even splattered onto my face as one of my glass lenses cracked. Shit. Pasquale fell back onto the bed, crying and clutching his face. Rolling away from him, I climbed off the bed. I was moving much more slowly now, my body starting to fail me.
I had to finish this and get out of here before I passed out. I moved over to my gun on the floor. Both guards were trying to get up now. Grabbing my weapon, I aimed at the first guard and fired, ending him.
I pointed at the second guard. I fired, aiming for his head, striking his neck instead. Shit. The man clutched his throat. He’d bleed out soon. Just like I was bleeding out. I really needed to sit down for a moment.
My vision blurred. In my peripheral, I saw Pasquale climbing off the bed, going for his guard’s gun. I pointed in his direction, aimed... shit. Why were there two of him? I fired as Pasquale raised his gun.
His cry let me know I’d shot the real him and not the hallucination. Red stained the middle of his shirt as he staggered backward, gun falling from his grip. He tripped over his guard and hit the floor. I’d shot him in the stomach.
Finally, it was finished. I’d done what I’d come to do. And that was good because I was almost out of energy. I strode forward, nose twitching. What was that smell? It smelled like something was burning. Moving over to the window, I stared out.
What the fuck?
Someone had set a fire outside. They were trying to burn down the house with us in it. The front gate guard! It had to be him. The Corradinis must’ve put him up to it. This was their way of getting rid of both my cousin and me. Two Cattaneos with one fire.
I had to get out. Now!
I stumbled toward the hallway, stepping over a guard as I went. When I stepped over Pasquale, I stared down at him. Almost all of his white T-shirt was red now. This could’ve ended much differently for us if only he’d stayed out of my way.
If only he hadn’t shaken hands with the enemy while backstabbing family. I felt no guilt over ending him. Maybe that made me the monster in this situation. If so, I’d gladly accept that role if it meant protecting what was mine.
I nearly fell over when I leaned down to grab my duffel and slung it over my shoulder. The hall before me was swaying. I put one foot in front of the other as I continued forward. I fumbled with the zipper of the bag, sliding my gun inside.
“Fuck,” I muttered when I reached the stairs.
My gloved hands left blood smeared on the railing as I held onto it and made my way down the stairs as fast as I could. My throat started to tickle when I reached the last step. The tear gas.
I couldn’t go out the back door and risk being exposed to the full effects of the gas. So, I headed for the front, hoping the final guard was long gone by now. It felt like it took me forever to make it to the door.
I unlocked it and pulled the door open, stepping out into the night air. Heat rolled over me the second I stepped outside. The scent of gasoline burned my nostrils, making me cough as smoke drifted across the front of the estate.
Fire danced all around the house, illuminating the darkness. Flames climbed the exterior walls while burning debris crashed to the ground around the estate. Wood cracked and popped as the fire spread.
I would have to run through fire to escape. Fuck that! If I wanted to make it out of this alive, I needed to go back inside to search for a fire extinguisher. That was probably the one thing I didn’t have in my duffel. I started to turn around when I saw headlights racing up the driveway.
Damn it.
My hand immediately went to my duffel bag. I fumbled with the zipper, trying to get it open. If the Corradinis had sent men after me, I would need my gun so I could take out as many of those motherfuckers as I could.
Fuck!
I couldn’t get the bag open. My bloody gloves kept slipping on the zipper. I leaned against the wall for support, a wave of dizziness almost bringing me to my knees. I refused to fall.
The cars had stopped in front of the house, and people were getting out. The figures were hazy as I stared at them through the fire. This couldn’t be the way I went out. I had to get my weapon out, even as my body screamed for me to lie down.
Finally, the zipper slid back. I fished around inside until I gripped my gun. It was a struggle to lift my arm and aim. But I did, just as a figure rushed toward me. I started to squeeze the trigger, but the gun was knocked from my hand.
Shit.
I’d failed. This was it. I’d come here to end my cousin. Yet, this estate may end up being my final resting place, also.