Chapter 23
Chapter twenty-three
Present Day
“That was a touching display back there,” Frankie smirked as I slid into the back seat of his SUV. His sons piled into the front, the older one driving and the younger, Atlas, watching my every move in the rear-view mirror.
A long, heavy sniper case was thrown onto my lap. I popped open the latches and set to work, inspecting the bolt, weight, sight calibration, and trigger resistance. It was a model I knew well, and my hands moved on instinct. My muscle memory kept the emotions at bay. Focus.
“Not often do you see such a display of feeling in our line of work,” he continued teasingly. “But tragic endings are the only way love stories end in this life, no?”
I ignored him, refusing to think about what I’d just walked away from. Of who. I couldn’t let my mind go back to that hotel room and see the pain in Finn’s eyes. The pleading look, begging me not to do this. I had to do this. For Neri. For him. I had one shot at this. I couldn’t fuck it up.
“The girl?” I asked through clenched teeth, changing the subject.
“She’ll be returned when you do your part.”
Wrong answer. The rifle wasn’t even fully assembled when I chambered a round, flipped it, and shoved the cold metal under Frankie’s chin before he could react.
The SUV jerked violently, its tyres screeching, as his youngest son aimed his gun at my head, his hands shaking.
The older one fought the wheel, grinding his teeth to regain control, then met his father’s gaze in the rear-view mirror.
“Keep driving,” Frankie commanded, remaining motionless.
“I want proof the girl is back where she belongs, or I’ll kill you instead of Joey,” I said, my voice deadly steady. “I’m dying anyway, so I have nothing to lose.”
A grin twitched at his lips, and I shoved the gun higher, forcing his chin up. “Touché, Aiani.” He nodded at Atlas, who pulled out a burner phone, typed, then turned the screen to me to show that he’d sent Neri’s location to Alessio.
“Not good enough.”
Frankie nodded again, and Atlas shoved his phone in my face, showing the email he’d just sent requesting photo confirmation once he had her back safely.
“Let’s hope this doesn’t take too long. Or my fingers might slip,” I said, keeping the gun poised beneath Frankie’s chin, my finger on the trigger.
Atlas kept his pointed at me, and I smiled coldly at the boy’s unsteady aim.
“You’ll do well at my estate. My cousin, Teron, will train that shake right out of you. ”
“He learns quickly. I’ve always admired Italian efficiency. He’ll thrive in Italy. Too bad you won’t be around to see it,” Frankie said. “I’m surprised you offered up your family's legacy so quickly.”
“When you're dead, legacy means nothing.”
“True,” he agreed.
“Talk me through Joey’s place. I need height.”
“Joey doesn’t leave his estate. He’s too paranoid. Too many of your spies everywhere. I’ll get you through the gates, but the rest is up to you. If his men catch you, you’ll be shot on sight.”
“I won’t be seen. Not until it’s too late.”
“Let’s hope so. The end of this brutal war rests on you making that shot.”
The car stopped a distance away from Frankie’s enormous American mansion, its high fortress gates shielding the property from view. I’d be going in blind, having to think on my feet, but fuck it. I always worked better under pressure.
We waited another twenty minutes until Fabi responded with a picture of him holding Neri. She was smiling and unharmed. My lungs started functioning again. I withdrew the gun from under Frankie’s chin. He rubbed the sensitive flesh while I went back to checking the gun.
“Joey’s a creature of habit. He gets up at five am sharp and always takes his morning coffee in the courtyard before meeting me.”
I checked my watch. I had twenty-six minutes until he awoke.
“In the north wing, there’s a third-floor balcony off his office overlooking the courtyard.
That’s where you’ll want to be. Guards patrol on a rotating basis.
Camera blind spots are the left lawn and the marble columns.
Expect at least four soldiers in the courtyard with him.
Once we’re inside, you're on your own. You’ll get no help from me. ”
“Wouldn’t expect anything less.”
He smirked. “Get in the trunk.”
We climbed out, and Frankie popped the hood while I strapped the rifle to my back, holstered my handgun under my hoodie, and kept a knife in hand. I climbed into the dark space as Frankie peered down at me.
“Joey’s security knows my car. You won’t exist unless I open this trunk. Don’t make a sound.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
He slammed the hood shut, and I was plunged into darkness. I focused on each breath, keeping my heartbeat steady and slipping into a headspace that blocked out all emotion. Everything came down to moments now. Every decision. Every action. It was the difference between failure and success.
The car moved. Gravel crunched under the tyres as we slowly drove up the estate. Muffled voices outside barked orders. The motion smoothed as we rolled onto a stone path. Then the car stopped.
I closed my eyes, clicked my neck and pushed away fear. Only adrenaline was welcome.
The trunk opened, and Frankie gave me a stern nod, his eyes scanning his surroundings, on high alert. There was no smirking or sarcasm now, only tension. He had just as much riding on this as I did.
I slipped out silently, crouching beside the car to stay unseen.
Frankie jerked his head towards the left lawn.
I melted into the shadows, keeping low and moving swiftly until I found a statue of a naked woman to hide behind.
Frankie and his sons were already moving into the mansion, laughing and joking with the soldiers on duty as if nothing were amiss.
The mansion was an over-the-top display of pretentiousness, with manicured lawns, thick marble pillars and a pristine white finish.
Who the fuck did this prick think he was?
The president? I spotted the north wing and the balcony on the third floor, overlooking the empty courtyard.
I glanced at my watch. Fourteen minutes.
I took a few minutes to watch the guards on patrol, tracking their patterns for an opening.
Then I climbed. Clawing my way up a stone pillar, shoving my boots into any tiny crevices and keeping my body tight against the marble.
I was finally high enough to reach for a windowpane and shimmy along, grabbing the balcony.
I swung myself up and silently rolled over the stone wall, crouching behind it.
Fuck. I took a moment to catch my breath and checked my watch. Four fifty-six. Four minutes to go.
I peered over the edge of the balcony to scope the courtyard below. There was an empty outdoor seating area. Getting myself into position, I set up my aim, checked that I had a clear shot at each of those chairs, whichever Joey might choose, and waited.
A few minutes after five, he appeared, pacing outside in his open silk robe and boxers.
His brown hair was still ruffled from sleep as he sat in a chair, his eyes glued to his phone screen.
Fuck, he was young. The irony didn’t escape me.
An inexperienced Don, his father murdered, an empire on his shoulders, paranoid beyond belief because his enemies wanted him dead.
I was looking in the mirror at my past self.
A maid appeared and set his coffee down. He didn’t acknowledge her or look up from his phone. Four soldiers surrounded him, standing stoically.
I checked the rifle in silence one last time. Bolt. Scope. Stabilizer.
He reached for his coffee, bringing it to his lips.
One deep breath in. One deep breath out.
Three… Two… One.
The bullet passed cleanly through Joey’s skull, snapping him back into his chair with a loud, wet thud. Blood spattered across the stone courtyard. The serene morning silence erupted into chaos.
“Down!” the soldiers shouted, lifting their guns and crouching, searching for me. My fingers pressed against the trigger with fluidity, firing two more shots. Two soldiers dead.
The mansion roared to life with shouting, heavy footfalls and alarms. A bullet whizzed past me.
I’d been spotted. I moved, slinging my rifle over my back and grabbing my handgun as I vaulted over the balcony wall and landed on the roof of a stone arch below.
Pain sliced through my ribs, but I scrambled to my feet and ran along the tiled roof as footsteps thundered all around me.
“He’s on the roof!”
“Left side!”
“Seal the gates!”
My lungs burned and my muscles screamed as I sprinted faster, ducking bullets whizzing past. One grazed my arm, spraying blood everywhere, but I didn’t feel a fucking thing.
Only adrenaline and the determination to survive as long as I could.
I reached the final stretch of the roof and leapt, grabbing a drainpipe and sliding down until I hit the ground hard.
Joey’s men swarmed, most on foot and chasing me across the lawn, while two SUVs rampaged up the drive, windows down and guns firing. I’d never run so fucking fast in my life, zig-zagging and leaping over bushes.
A gunshot slammed into the tree in front of me. Another tore through the air, inches from my head, its hiss echoing in my ears.
The tall metal fencing was up ahead, but so were more of his men.
I pivoted and sprinted along the perimeter wall as my lungs threatened to collapse.
Then I was down, my body skidding through the mud with a bullet in my thigh.
I clenched my jaw and squeezed my eyes shut against the pain.
I tried to get back to my feet, but I already knew it was over.
Rough hands seized me. Someone yanked my hood down, forcing me to my knees on the grass and fastening my wrists behind my back with cable ties. My thigh burned, and I panted through the pain as one of Joey’s men spat in my face.