Shot For Mercy (La Famiglia Colombo #1)

Prologue - Emiliano

M y hands shake in anticipation as Luca opens the front door of the dingy apartment, and my nose scrunches at the coppery smell of blood in the air. I can practically taste it, and I swallow hard. We’re here because we got a tip that Amanda, my soldier’s wife, was the rat who gave up one of our warehouses, and it was stormed by the police shortly after. We came here to kill her, but it seems that’s been taken care of.

I stand at the entrance, shutting the door behind me, and close my eyes. A million thoughts run through my head, mainly that there’s a child in this house, and I need to find him and get him out of here. Then I’ll deal with Elio. He can no longer be a part of us. Traitors don’t survive.

La Cosa Nostra.

I may not be in charge yet, but I’m my father’s right hand, and that counts for something. As the oldest of five, I know I’ll be Don one day, and I have to prove that I have what it takes. Papà would be proud right now if he knew what I was doing, but I don’t brag or talk about every job I do unless he’s the one who gives it to me.

“Elio is here,” Luca says, and I smile tightly. My soldier is loyal, and he goes everywhere with me.

“Where is the child?” I ask Elio with a sigh, hating that Elio made everything so fucking messy. He knows better than to do that, and now I’ll have to kill him. Murdering a mother in cold blood in front of her child—really? I thought he had more tact than that, but I’ve been mistaken about a lot of things lately. I thought he was one of the most loyal soldiers I’ve ever had, but if his wife was a rat, then so is he, in my book. His fate is now sealed.

No mercy.

Elio points down the hallway, and I follow Luca as we look in both bedrooms. The smell of blood gets stronger, and a whimper fills my ears.

“He’s here.” Luca points past the mangled body of the once-beautiful woman, and there, in the middle of blood and brains, sits a small child rocking back and forth. My heart squeezes in my chest at the sight, but I will my face to stay blank. I fucking hate when children get involved. They’re too innocent for this world.

I nod, making my way toward the kid. He’s shaking like a leaf, and with his black hair and big blue eyes, he reminds me of my child I left at home. There’s no way I can walk away right now. It would make me scum. None of this is his fault.

I sit down on my haunches in front of him, my suit suddenly making me feel cramped, and his blue eyes widen. They’re so light they look almost transparent, almost as if it’s a trick of the light that they look blue in the first place. Pasting a smile on my face for his sake, I stretch out my hand.

“You’re Cole, right?” I ask him in Italian, knowing he has learned to speak it. Elio taught him some; that much is obvious by the way he nods. I know his stepfather was hoping for him to follow in his footsteps, and if I’m being honest, after tonight he will have no choice. I’m not leaving him behind to open his mouth to anyone or go to the cops. But I can’t kill him. Children are off limits, and just thinking of him going into the system makes me sick.

“Yes.” He nods, looking at my outstretched hand with apprehension. “Elio taught me some Italian. He said he would make a man out of me, whatever that means.”

I grin and whisper, “I’m Emiliano.” I’m Emiliano. “You?—”

“I know,” he whispers back, and my hand almost falls to my side, but he takes it instead. “I know who you are.”

I nod slowly, hoping my slow movements will calm him down slightly. He needs to go in the car before I finish Elio once and for all. “I need to get you out of here.”

Cole’s eyes shift toward his mother, and I see his eyes widen once more at the view. She’s face down on the floor, a puddle of thick blood around her head. I can see her head has a hole in it.

He shudders, then turns to the side and throws up, letting go of my hand abruptly as his body heaves. He tenses, puking wave after wave on his hands and knees. I don’t look away; instead, I wait patiently for him to be done. If he’s going to be in this life, he’ll have to get used to the sight. Although it would be cruel, even for me, to expect that of him right now. Once he’s done, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Look away,” he says, choked up, tears running down his cheeks.

“A man never looks away,” I reply, hoping it’ll be the one thing he learns today. A visible shiver wracks his body, and I sigh. “Come on, Cole. We need to get out of here.”

He nods, taking my hand, and I look at Luca expectantly. He meets my eyes and nods once, taking Cole from me and taking him to the SUV parked out back. I walk out of the small bedroom and down the hallway to where Elio sits on the couch. He’s not bound or forced, and for that I’ll make this quick.

He wears a mask of resignation.

“I’m not a rat.” He sighs, and I believe him. Doesn’t change what I have to do. “I didn’t know about her.”

I nod at him, taking my gun out of my side holster, and sliding a silencer in place. “You didn’t have to kill her in front of him.”

“He should see what happens when you open your mouth.”

“He’s just a child,” I growl. “Children are off limits.”

Elio’s eyes widen at my tone, and he nods once. “And for that, I’m sorry.”

“That kid is probably scarred for life.” I sigh, bringing my weapon to his forehead. He presses against it, and I’m grateful he’s making this easy. He’ll die with dignity. “Thank you for your service, Elio.”

He looks into my eyes until the very last moment, and I pull the trigger without an ounce of emotion.

A man never looks away.

Maybe I am a monster after all.

His body slumps back against the couch, brain matter and blood splatters decorate the white wall behind his head. He looks almost as fucked up as his wife, and I can’t help but feel a deep sense of satisfaction at that fact. Almost like I’m avenging the child in my vehicle. I shouldn’t care that much, but I’ve already decided Luca is going to take him in. The least I can do is make him see what I do for people who are loyal to me.

I make my way out back and to the SUV, holstering my gun before I’m visible. I made sure to be careful with the doorknob as I closed the door behind me. The last thing I need is for fingerprints to be traced back to me. Or Luca. He doesn’t deserve that, and I need him by my side.

Luca stands by the driver’s door, keeping watch, and I walk directly to him. “I need you to take him in,” I tell him, and his eyes widen. “Do this for me, please. We can’t afford to let him go.”

He nods slowly, his eyes still wide. He looks terrified. “I don’t know the first thing about kids, boss.”

“I’m sure you can figure it out,” I reply, suddenly feeling desperate. “Please.”

“Alright, I’ll take him in.”

“Let’s take him to the penthouse.” I sigh, running a hand down my face. “I think he should meet Matteo. It would be good for him.”

“And then?” he asks shakily.

“Then he goes home with you,” I reply, and he nods.

Cole stares at me wide-eyed as I get in, scooting all the way until he’s plastered against the side of the door on the other end of the vehicle. I look at him patiently, a soft smile on my face. I hope it reassures him, and sure enough, he relaxes slightly.

“Did you kill him?” he asks me, a hopeful shimmer in his eyes.

I nod. “Yes.”

“Good.”

I face forward for the rest of the ride, not saying anything to that, and when we finally pull up to the parking garage of my penthouse, I open the door and slip out quietly. He waits in the car, and Luca goes around and gets him.

The walk to the elevator is silent, and Cole doesn’t look at me once. He’s still visibly shaking, and a pang fills my gut. There’s probably nothing I can do for him right now, but he’ll have Luca now, and that’s reassuring. I know he’d never let anything happen to him. He’ll do right by him.

Once in the penthouse, the sound of cartoons greets us. Maria is in the kitchen fixing dinner, and Matteo, my five-year-old, is sitting on the white sectional couch with a bowl of chocolate ice cream. His face is dirty with it, and I smirk. When I look over at Cole, his eyes are wide with fear.

“Matteo, what did I say about eating ice cream on my couch?” I ask him gently, and he grins.

“You said not to do it.” He shrugs. “But I want to watch this.”

“Give me,” I tell him as I close the distance between us, and he hands me the bowl with a pout. “I want you to meet someone.”

Cole runs behind me and hides, and I grab his arm and tug him ever so gently to my side. His eyes are wide, and when I look at Matteo, so are his. But then a smile fills his face.

“Papà?” Matteo grins. “Is he staying with us?”

I shake my head. “He’ll be with Luca.” I look between them, and Cole tenses. “Matteo, this is Cole.” I turn toward Cole, whose eyes are wide. “Cole, this is my son, Matteo.”

Cole gulps and says nothing, but Matteo is not deterred in the slightest.

“Papà, he can have my ice cream.” He grins at Cole. “Quick before it melts!”

I shake my head. “He needs dinner first. You know the rules.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Matteo shakes his head. “Cole, do you want to go look at my toys?”

Cole’s eyes light up, and he nods rapidly. Matteo gets up from the couch and offers his pudgy little hand to Cole. He looks at it for a brief second before taking it in his, and they run off to Matteo’s room together. I follow closely, watching as my son sits Cole down on his bed, raising his hands in the air as if trying not to spook him. But Cole smiles widely, clearly at ease, and I rub my chest when Matteo gives him a hug.

Cole breaks down.

“Papà says men don’t cry,” he whispers, “but I won’t tell.”

I swallow the lump in my throat and turn away, suddenly feeling like I’m intruding. But I don’t go far because this moment is tugging at my heartstrings and allowing me to see a side of my son I don’t often get to.

“My mama is dead.”

“So is mine,” Matteo says to Cole. “I’ll take care of you. You have me now.”

Tears sting the backs of my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. If only he knew.

“But you’re younger than me,” Cole says incredulously, as if the notion of my son taking care of him is absurd. “How will you take care of me?”

“I’ll take care of your heart.” I shake my head, hating how much their conversation is affecting me, yet I can’t seem to walk away. “And I know how to fight.”

“Teach me?” Cole asks him.

“How do I know you won’t use it against me?” my son replies, and I grin.

“I’ll take care of you too,” Cole says softly, and I look back at them.

They’re on the bed, holding each other tightly. I find the will to walk away, knowing deep down that I made the right choice. They’ll take care of each other now.

They’ll be best friends.