Chapter Thirty-One #2
The old man joined her, and they half dragged, half carried Valerio outside.
But there was no safety here. The forest around them was alive with the echoing crack and thud of bullets.
“How do we get him out of here?” Nikki asked. Federico shook his head, then leaned over and slapped Valerio’s cheek.
“Valerio,” he said. “You gotta wake up. Wake up, Capo.”
Valerio’s eyelids rolled up.
“Can you stand?” Nikki asked. “We can put you between us if you can stand.”
He nodded.
But he grimaced when they touched him. Gingerly, they sat him upright and leaned him against the wall. His body lolled.
“Fuck,” Nikki said.
She turned to Federico. “What if I get one of those SUVs? I can probably drive it through here. I stole their keys—one of them has to work.”
He shook his head. “You’ll never make it. We should hide…wait it out.”
“He won’t last,” said Nikki. “He needs help now.”
She pressed the gun into Federico’s hand.
“Protect yourself,” she said. “Protect him.”
“What about you?”
“It’s too big. I can’t handle it properly. Besides, I need speed, not firepower.”
—
Nikki’s body moved automatically, numbly crashing through the undergrowth, every instinct shouting for her to turn back as she raced towards the sounds of the fight.
She smelled smoke and, through the trees, saw that the house was burning, orange and yellow flames licking out of the windows.
Shadowy figures chased in the dark, men shouted, hot streaks of bullets pulsed through the air.
Keeping low, trying to stay out of sight, she shoved her hand into her bag and grabbed one of the key fobs, pressing at the buttons.
In the courtyard, the lights of an SUV flashed.
Without breaking stride, she headed for it, opened the door, dove inside, and hit the ignition.
Shifting into gear, she stomped the accelerator.
The heavy vehicle shot back, into the fight.
Racing away, towards the billowing flames of the burning house, she was chased by strafing bullets tearing into metal and shattering glass.
At the last moment, she veered left, around the western side of the building, and into the trees.
The path was narrow, and Nikki had to slow and maneuver, bumping and scraping across the uneven ground. The rugged SUV handled the bushes and small trees—but the path narrowed and, at last, she could go no farther.
Switching off the engine, but leaving the headlights to mark the way, she raced down the path.
She was relieved to find Federico and Valerio where she’d left them, starkly illuminated by the headlamps.
Federico slapped Valerio’s face. “Wake up. She’s back. Wake up, Capo. Don’t you dare leave, you fucker.”
Federico struggled to his feet, and tucked the gun behind him, into his waistband. Then he bent and gripped Valerio with both hands in one of his armpits. Nikki squatted on the other side of Valerio and slid her shoulder beneath his arm.
“On three!” she said. Federico nodded. They counted and heaved Valerio to his feet.
It was clear Valerio was trying to help, but his muscles were loose. His right leg was no good and his left was weak, stumbling, unable to support his weight for longer than a beat.
He was in obvious pain, yet didn’t make a sound as Nikki and Federico struggled to move him the ten meters to the rear of the SUV.
At last, they opened the tail door, and helped him climb in. Valerio accommodated the effort, tipping and rolling, until he lay flat, chest heaving. He gave a thumbs-up.
Nikki breathed more easily now. They’d solved one problem. Now, they just needed to get the fuck out of here. She was about to step back and close the door when she heard someone speak.
“I’m taking that,” said a man’s voice. “Step away from the vehicle and give me the key.”
Nikki raised her hands and turned around slowly.
Luca Errichiello was silhouetted against the flames of the house, aiming a gun at them.
Beside her, Federico also turned. Luca seemed to recognize him and opened his mouth in a loud, joyless laugh.
“You!” he exclaimed.
“Hello, Luca,” said Federico.
“My god, I never expected to see you here,” said Luca.
“That’s because you have no imagination,” Federico replied dryly. “You’re a clever psychopath—but you’re also shallow, and vain. That’s why I could always outmaneuver you.”
“I don’t see you winning this one,” countered Luca.
“I don’t need to win.” Federico gave an encompassing gesture to the fire behind Luca. “As long as you lose.”
Luca shot his brother.
Federico ricocheted against the rear of the SUV and slid to the ground. Nikki ducked and rolled beneath the vehicle in time to hear another weapon discharge. But it was Luca who hit the ground this time, body juddering.
“Check him,” Federico said to Nikki. “Make sure he’s dead. Get his gun.”
She did as she was told, dodging forward and grabbing the gun from Luca’s limp fingers before checking for a pulse.
It was a headshot that had killed him, she noted with a distant sense of unreality.
Although not as neat as the bullets that had killed Mac.
This one had blown off the side of Luca’s face.
She turned and saw that it was Valerio who had made the shot, snatching the gun from Federico’s waistband during the confrontation.
He was lying motionless now, gun still clutched in his fingers.
Federico lay on the ground, bleeding badly, hand gripping his chest where Luca’s bullet had torn through.
“Is Luca dead?” he wheezed.
She nodded. “Yes.”
“Good…good.”
She wanted to move him, to get him out of here, but it was too late. As she watched, Federico’s face slackened, eyes turning distant and dull. She felt for a pulse. He was gone.
—
It was only as Nikki shut the door to the SUV and crossed around to the driver’s side that she realized the shooting had stopped.
The roar of the fire still overwhelmed the night, but the percussive gunfire had stilled.
She wasn’t sure what this meant, and drove cautiously, stopping when she reached the courtyard.
In the orange light of the burning building, bodies were strewn throughout the space. The stone fountain in the center of the drive was in pieces, water pouring on the ground.
Lazarov and three of his men were kneeling on the gravel, hands bound behind them, surrounded by men with assault rifles.
It was not the police who had secured the scene. Instead, striding around the captive men, a bandage across his chest, and arm bound in a sling, was Tito Calandra. The big man walked slowly, deliberatively.
He raised his gun and shot the first man in the back of the head. An execution. He did the same to the next. And the next. When he came to Lazarov, he lowered his weapon, and nodded to De Rosa.
De Rosa indicated, and two men came forward with a black sack that they put on his head, securing this with tape. Lazarov struggled as they dragged him to a waiting car and put him in the boot.
Someone noticed Nikki. A man raised his rifle, pointing it at her and shouting. Nikki raised her hands, and looked to Tito.
Across the distance, their eyes met. He stared at her and she looked back into that dark heart.
Then he gestured, and De Rosa shouted at the man to stand down, waving Nikki on.
The world was getting lighter as she drove from Luca Errichiello’s compound. She didn’t look back.