28. Matteo
CHAPTER 28
MATTEO
I lean on the horn of Roman’s car as I zoom up 48 th Street to 9 th Avenue where the bar’s located, alerting anyone in my way to get the fuck out of it. I screech to a stop near Molly’s, a few doors up, because it’s insanity.
And—
Fuck.
It’s about to be my worst nightmare made real.
There are guys there with guns blazing, bullets popping and cracking in the air. The round of fire clears and there she is.
Heaven.
My wife stands just outside the pub. She takes a step, but they’re not letting her go anywhere.
They start shooting again, keeping her rooted to the spot. But they aren’t shooting at her. I don’t need my fucking brother grabbing my arm and holding me back to see that. I try to shake him off, but Sergio’s a tenacious bastard and he doesn’t let go.
“Fuck! Dominguez obviously had the same idea.”
“Yeah, and he beat us here.”
“If a bullet hits her?—”
“Calm down, Matty.”
“Don’t tell me to calm the fuck down, Serg.” I try once more to shake him off, but Roman has a tight grip on my other arm.
“If they see us come charging, she’s dead,” Roman says.
He’s right and we’re trapped. I’m trapped. It’s a personal hell of my own making.
On the street, people scatter in a panic. Some are down, not moving. I can’t tell who’s alive or who’s dead and I really don’t care. Because Heaven is in the middle of it. They’ve come for her. They’re playing. They’re shooting at her and keeping her trapped.
I know two things right now.
They’re here to take her, not kill her. And if they see Conor, they’ll wing him and take him, too.
Make that three things. Because I also know Dominguez has gone and lost his shit, and he’ll want me taken out.
They’re taking pot shots. Every fucking time she moves.
“How many guys are on her?”
“I can’t tell. I’ve counted three, no five. But there could be more.” Roman’s peering out the window, and they’re going to notice us any second.
“I’m getting her.”
“Matty, they’ll shoot you.”
I swing cold eyes on Sergio. “Let them. A bullet could hit her by accident. I’m not risking that.”
“So, we pick them off.”
“That’s a plan. We split up and take them. Give me your gun, Roman.”
“No.”
I snatch Roman’s gun. “Give me another fucking mag.” He does and I pop it in just as a siren sounds in the distance. “If you both don’t let me go, I will fucking shoot each of you. I’m in charge.”
They release me. Sirens make people nervous. I leap out, just as there’s a shot from inside the bar. Then gunfire explodes into the air, peppering cars and probably more people as they scream and dive to the ground.
It’s total fucking chaos now and my heart’s banging so loud I can’t think. I try to shut down the panic, slide back into the cold, emotionless mindset I need. But it’s impossible because of Heaven.
My brothers follow me and an eruption of bullets hail down around us. They’re still not shooting her.
But crossfire and stray bullets may kill her before I can save her from this ambush.
I need to get her. I’m ready to run into the melee when Sergio grabs me.
“Matty, get it together fucking now.”
“That’s my wife in there, Serg. She’s dead if I don’t get to her.”
His gaze is grim. “No, she’s dead if you don’t get your control.”
“I told you both to split up and take them out.”
“Matty, listen to what I said. Think this through or she’s done.”
I breathe in the stench of gunfire and blood and metal and garbage, my gut wrenching. He’s right. With superhuman effort, I shut down.
Everything.
Panic, sheer, debilitating panic, beats its sharp wings against my thin control. Dominguez isn’t going to kill her. He wants her for another reason. And his men haven’t shot her. They’re being deliberate in their attempt to keep her captive with their gunfire.
What would I do if I were them?
My brain works overtime, each second that passes reminding me that I need to act.
I take a deep breath, and thank fuck, it brings me clarity.
I’d unnerve my target. I’d then go for fear and keep the target and others at bay with careful hails of bullets.
Exactly like they’re doing.
But these fuckers are moving in.
Shit. They’re clearing the area, advancing toward Heaven. They’re going to grab her, and if they try…fuck, she needs to move.
Now.
“Get the fuck inside, Heaven!” I yell the words, and her head turns just as a bullet almost hits her and she spins away, hitting pavement.
There’s an overturned table by the door where her aunt cowers. It’s a nice day, cloudless, so they’ve set up for outdoor dining and drinking.
Sergio and Roman aren’t obeying my orders. They’re right here with me. They have my back, because otherwise…
No. I won’t even think it.
I’m no use dead.
“I’m okay. Get a fucking gun if you have another, Romo.”
“Yeah.” He leans against my now bullet-ridden car and he closes his eyes. “It’s getting fucking hot.”
Sirens pierce the air. They’re louder but they’re not close enough and I’m not relying on the NYPD to come save any asses. They’ll all be dead by the time the cops turn up because Dominguez has brought in the big guns.
He’s going to have more people covering the area than the ones we can see.
Get the girl at all costs and keep the family—and me—from stopping them.
That would have been his order.
Then Roman moves, diving into the side of the car, narrowly escaping a bullet as he grabs another gun.
“Wait, wait, wait,” I say to myself as Sergio checks his clip, getting ready to shoot when he has to.
They’re moving in.
And the goal is to save my wife.
I can’t stop the thought from looping through my mind.
Because there has to be a way.
The fucking slime bag wants her. He also wants Conor fucking dusted, but since I don’t see him, that’s good. I don’t need another reason for them to spray more bullets in her direction.
Dominguez’s people are organized but bloodthirsty.
And trigger happy.
That’s obvious.
“Hold on, Matty.” Roman’s back at my side.
“I can’t get a solid count.”
“Gotta be, what? The five we counted, plus another two, at least, with heavy assaults. Maybe Kalashnikovs. Let’s strategize,” Sergio says to me.
“We create a distraction. They know we’re here, but we’re not shooting yet. You two split off, like I said, and go around the other way. I’ll draw fire,” I say. “It should give Heaven time to get back inside.”
“If something happens to you, Matteo…”
“Romo, I’ll be fine. Let’s?—”
And then, fucking Conor roars from inside the pub. I know it’s him. He’s there, I can see him, heading to the door, guns at the ready. But he’s got the building to protect him, and the fucking moron lets loose a round of fire, hitting one of the guys in the face.
“Come and get me, motherfuckers!”
And then it happens. Like slow motion. Like I’m watching from a distance, or in a dream.
It’s fucking Joey all over again, only this time, I’m here.
And it’s Heaven in danger.
The one he shoots goes down firing, like his finger was pressed on the trigger, and that makes another one of his guys open fire.
Until Conor plugs him in the neck.
Conor roars again, a tirade of bullets exploding into the air, with fucking Heaven trapped in the middle.
Dominguez’s men spray the area with more bullets, some hitting the table Heaven managed to dive behind. Wood is going to be no help in saving her. I need to protect her. Save her. One table is already in shards.
I don’t think. I don’t hesitate, I jerk away from my brothers, ignoring their shouts as the gunfire comes hot and fast from all directions.
I move fast over the pavement, shooting at the bastards as bullets ricochet around me.
Shoot me, shoot me, not her.
That’s what repeats in my head.
I have to reach Heaven. Protect her. Keep her safe.
One of Dominguez’s men falls as I land a shot, and ahead of me, both Conor and his father are now retaliating. But Heaven is still by herself, helpless under a table. I see a small gun in her hand but since she’s not firing, I can only guess it’s out of ammunition.
“Get back under cover,” I yell, almost there.
A bullet tears up the pavement at my feet, and then something slams into me and I go down hard. I try to rise when something hits me again.
It’s only moments but it takes forever. I’m lying on the ground, trying to move but I can’t. I look up. Joey is next to me.
But that’s not right. I wasn’t there for him that night. I was too fucking busy with my poker game to save him.
He can’t be here. I lost him.
And I’m in New York. Not Italy.
Fuck. Heaven. Heaven…is she…is…?
I scrape at the pavement, aware of two things—sirens so loud they might well be inside of my head and lack of gunfire.
It hurts.
It’s hard to breathe.
Just me. Blue sky. The edges are going dark.
No, a shadow comes over me and I can see Heaven standing over me.
She’s crying. I did that. Me.
“Don’t—”
“Don’t speak, Matteo. You asshole, don’t speak, and don’t fucking die.” She’s crying hard, her hands are on me but the pain recedes.
I open my mouth and try to form words but I can’t. I try again. “Are…did…hit?”
She shakes her head. “What is wrong with you? You jumped in front of a bullet.”
Everything is slipping away and I can’t hold on. I don’t want to. But I have to let her know. I have to tell her.
“I’m…so…sorry,” I say, gritting my teeth, fighting to give the words freedom as darkness pulls at the recesses of my mind. “I should—should…have stopped it…when I had the chance. I’d never hurt you. I…love…you…”
“Matteo, hold on. Hold on…”
Her hands are soft, but the pull of the murk is too strong and it’s hard to breathe.
Finally, I can’t do it. I can’t hold on.
So I let go.
And everything goes black.