Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
Armando
The thing with love is that it makes you miss things you should’ve caught. My mind zeroed in on seeing Hannah. I knew it was Friday, and the guys were next door, but I didn’t spare them any notice when I walked by. Nor did I pay attention to the guy loitering across the street.
I was too consumed with getting to Hannah and fixing that shit.
When the door bells jingle, we break apart, and I see Lorenzo, one of the old-timers come in.
“Mando,” he says, like he’s surprised to find me behind the counter in a liplock with Hannah.
“Lorenzo. How’s it going?” For the first time since I got out, I don’t hate everyone. I’m almost glad to see a familiar face. Proud to show off my relationship. My beautiful, pregnant girlfriend.
“What’s going on here? You and ah…” His curious gaze shifts between the two of us.
“Hannah,” I fill in, guessing he doesn’t know or remember her name. “Yeah. This is my girl. Hannah, this is Lorenzo.”
“I know Lorenzo,” Hannah says with a laugh. “Two bouquets for you today?”
Lorenzo grins at her. “That’s right. One for the wife and one for the goomba .” He winks at me.
Hannah heads to the cooler. I realize she’s wearing my Cubs shirt over her red short-shorts, and it floods my chest with warmth.
Feelings.
Feelings are fucking breaking through all over the place.
But that’s when the shit hits the fan.
Gunshots ring out, and the front windows and glass doors shatter.
“Get down,” I shout, lunging for Hannah and dragging her to the floor. Lorenzo draws a weapon but stays on the floor, crawling across the floor to where we are, behind the counter.
I’m usually cool as fuck in an emergency, but Hannah’s here, with my unborn child. When the shots stop, I say to Lorenzo, “Get her out the back. Please.” I take the gun from his hand because I don’t have a weapon on me.
Lorenzo doesn’t hesitate. He’s a soldier, like me. He grabs Hannah’s arm, hauls her up and books it for the back door. Glass from the windows falls in the eerie silence after the deafening shots.
“Lorenzo,” I call out, and he turns at the door. “Make sure she’s taken care of… if I don’t make it out.”
“No!” Hannah screams, and Lorenzo has to wrap his arms around her to keep her from running back to me.
“And my mom. Promise me.” I cock the gun.
“You have my word.”
“Lorenzo ” —It seems so fucking important to say—“She’s pregnant.”
“ Lo prometo ,” Lorenzo says in Italian with the reverence of swearing an oath, and then he hauls Hannah out the back door.
I suck in a breath and flatten my back against the wall just behind the counter.
More glass breaks, and I hear the crunch of footsteps over glass.
“Armando,” someone sings. “Come out, come out, wherever you are.”
This is it.
This is where I die. Right when I found a reason to live. When I’m needed. To think I could leave Hannah and our child before we even got a chance rips my goddamn lungs out.
But I also can’t go on hiding. I can’t have her or our baby in danger because I have a price on my head. This ends now. Tonight.
I check the magazine of the pistol to count how many shots I have then swallow back the bile in my throat. In the reflection of the cooler door, I see three of them. I can take them all.
“Drop your fucking weapons, or we’ll mop the motherfucking floor with your blood.”
My heart double pumps. Arturo. Many footsteps. The guys would’ve been next door for Friday haircuts. La famiglia. My family.
I step away from the wall, my own gun leveled at the guy closest to me. Arturo, Marco, Leo and Emilio are all there, guns leveled at the backs of the three gang members’ heads.
“Nice and slow,” Arturo says. “I don’t know what the fuck you think you’re doing, but no one messes with a Pachino.
You touch one hair on his head, Don Pachino will erase the existence of every one of you—every gang member, your mothers, your brothers, your sisters, and your fucking dogs—from the streets of this city. ”
“Easy man.” I recognize the voice of the guy who called my name when he came in. He holds his gun out by the handle and slowly lowers it to the ground. His two friends do the same. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, man. The order came from Don Pachino. He hired us for this shit.”
My body flushes with ice. The fuck?
“Bullshit,” Arturo says immediately.
The guy slowly turns around. “Tell them.” He lifts his chin at Emilio, whose eyes dart all over the fucking place.
Arturo sends a quick look at Emilio. “Tell us what, Emilio?” His voice is deadly. It makes goosebumps stand up on my arms.
“He hired us,” the guy says.
“I called it off, asshole,” Emilio grits through clenched teeth. Sweat beads at his forehead. He’s as pale as a fucking Swede.
The ripple of shock that runs through the wise guys is palpable.
“I called it off today.” Emilio shifts from foot to foot.
The guy shrugs. “I didn’t get no memo.”
“I called it off!” Emilio shouts, like he’s losing his fucking head.
“You heard him,” Arturo says, picking up the thread. “And that fucking order didn’t come from the don. So if you don’t want your entire gang obliterated, I suggest you walk out of here and never come near any of us again. Capito ?”
“Yeah, okay.” The guy tries to sound cool, but he and his two buddies exit swiftly.
The sound of sirens approaching fills the air, and Arturo curses. “Give me the fucking gun,” he says to me because if I get caught with the thing, I’m gonna get another five years in the pen, just like that.
But I’m not about to give up my weapon. Not when there’s a fucking traitor in our midst. I point it at Emilio’s head. Marco and Leo do the same.
Emilio holds both hands in the air, his gun dangling on his trigger finger.
Slowly, he drops to his knees and places the Walther PPK on the floor.
“I thought you were going to kill me, Mando,” he croaks.
“Because of Grace.” His hands visibly shake, but he holds eye contact with me, which is pretty fucking ballsy, considering he’s admitting to putting a hit on me.
“You fucking bastard,” Marco spits.
“I was afraid of you. Everyone thought you’d do something to me. Everyone, right?” He looks around for support, but no one says a fucking word. The cops screech up, lights flashing.
“Enough,” Arturo snaps. “The don will settle this. Not any of you,” he says fiercely, throwing his warning glance at me, Marco and Leo.
“I mean it. He’s a made man. You can’t touch him.
Don G. will decide his fate. Now give me that fucking gun, Mando, before you land your ass back in the can.
Everyone else, put your goddamn pieces away. I’ll handle the cops.”
I put the safety on the gun and toss it to him as the cops advance. The rest of the guys put theirs away, and everyone raises their hands in the air. Emilio climbs awkwardly to his feet, never taking his gaze off me. He still thinks I’m going to kill him.
“They’re gone,” Arturo hollers to the cops.
“It was some kind of gang hit, but they ran when we came out of the barbershop with our own weapons.” He slowly walks outside, hands loosely held in the air.
Don Pachino has some boys in blue on the payroll, and chances are good Artie knows who they are and vice versa.
I can only fucking hope he can talk us out of this shit show.
I expect them to order us all face down, but they don’t. They definitely know Artie. They let him approach and give them his story about what happened.
Marco purposely knocks into Emilio as he walks out, and Leo shoots him a look that swears death.
I should be thinking about killing the bastard, but I don’t.
Because as I step outside, I see Hannah standing in front of Rocco’s, tears streaming down her face.
Lorenzo stands protectively by her side and nods to me when I lift my chin.
“Armando!” she cries out.
“It’s okay, Flowers.” I hold open my arms, and she runs into them. Her soft body collides with mine, she presses all those curves against me, buries her face in my chest. “It’s over now. Forever.”
She blinks up at me, and I stroke my thumb down her smooth brown skin. “It’s over,” I repeat, realizing it might be true.
Emilio revoked the hit. Arturo warned off the Hermanos who hadn’t heard the message. That means other than the shit that needs to be resolved between me and Emilio, my life’s safe for the moment.
My girl and our baby are safe.
I slide my fingers in her curls to cup the back of her head and meld my lips to hers. “Marry me?” I ask.
Her lips part in surprise. “Are you serious?”
“Dead serious, Flowers. You’re the reason I want to live. The reason I’m glad I’m free. Even without the baby, I’d want to move you into my place and keep you forever.”
She lets out a watery laugh. “Wow. I don’t know.”
My heart stutters. I put a knuckle under her chin to lift her gaze to mine. “You don’t know?”
“What about—” she flutters a hand at her ruined shop, the glass shattered from bullets.
I draw a breath and nod. “It’s solved. I’m not a target anymore. And I swear to Christ I will not let anything like this touch you or our baby again.”
She throws her arms around my waist and hugs me fiercely. “It’s solved? Oh my God, Armando, that was horrible. I thought you were going to die.”
“I know, beautiful. But it’s over now, I promise.”
She pulls away and lifts her face. “Yes.”
I don’t breathe. Is she saying yes to my proposal?
“Yes!” She nods vigorously as tears stream down her beautiful face.
“I love you.” I look into her warm brown eyes when I say it. Hold her gaze, so she knows it’s the goddamn truth. I’m her man, and I’m going to stand by her for life. Loyalty is my gig.
I look over to where Marco and Leo stand, sandwiching Emilio between them, like prison guards.
When Marco sees me looking, he mutters something and comes over, his curious gaze sweeping Hannah.
She swipes at her tears, wipes them on my shirt, letting out an embarrassed laugh.
“I hope you took him back. He’s been a big baby since you kicked him out.”
I don’t even punch him because I’m too fucking happy. “Hannah just agreed to marry me.”
Marco’s face stretches into a grin. “That right? Congratulations!”
I hear Leo growl something like, “If you fucking run, I will hunt you down and eat your goddamn liver,” to Emilio before he comes over and holds his hand out. “Did I just hear that right?”
“Yes,” Hannah says with a watery laugh.
“She’s now my fiancée,” I fill in. “And she’s having my baby.”
“Whoa!” Marco grins.
Leo’s brows wing up. “Way to lock it in, Mando.”
There are smiles all around. Hell, I may even be smiling—that would be new.
“Mando.” Hannah looks up at me under her curled lashes. “That’s what they call you?”
I nod. “Yeah. Childhood nickname.”
“I like it.”
“I like you.” I pull her against me and kiss the bridge of her nose.
Emilio stands and watches us, shoulders slouched, misery and fear lining his face. Frankly, I’m surprised he hasn’t made a run for it, but he probably knows Leo told the truth. We would hunt him to the ends of the earth if he ran. Besides, he has a fiancée waiting at home for him.
Maybe he thinks he’ll still make it out of this alive.
Arturo yells to Lorenzo in Italian to watch him, and I feel somewhat vindicated. It’s not just Marco and Leo on my side. It’s everyone.
I don’t know what the don will do, but that current of loyalty, the strength of family that’s been missing since I got out, turns back on. All but one of these men have my back.
It takes most of the sting away from knowing one of our own tried to buy my death.