18. Dimitri
18
Dimitri
I ’ve done my fair share of dangerous things in my life. I’ve stared down the barrel of a gun and been shot more times than I can count. I’ve been stabbed, electrocuted, and burned. Everything meant to break a human spirit, I have endured and survived. But hearing Gabriella scream nearly killed me. And if she dies, I’m confident I’ll be going with her.
Slipping past my men is easy when you know their schedule and where they’re posted in the club. It’s only in the parking garage connected to the Playground where I catch the curious gazes of the men, but they say nothing as I walk confidently towards my Ducati bike.
With a thunderous roar, the machine beneath me springs to life and idles in a deep purr as I slip my helmet on, more for disguise than safety. I rev the throttle and feel the immediate response of the machine, before I release the brake and speed through the parking garage. Cars honk and swerve to avoid hitting me when I explode onto the street, but I don’t pay them any attention. My entire mind is focused on one thing.
Getting to Gabriella.
I’ve only been to the DiAngelo tower once. The Italians hosted a ridiculously extravagant grand opening event a couple of months back. As Sergei’s second, I was expected to attend, but the entire affair left me feeling anxious for two reasons: being surrounded by dozens of crime family members and the expectation that I would see Gabriella. I looked for her all night and waited, but she never appeared. Apparently, there was a school function she couldn't miss. I wondered how much of that was really true or if she just didn’t want to see me.
Outside the tower is a pair of cars I recognize belong to the Irish. The call dropped on the ride over, but I heard enough to know that Enzo was shot and Patrick’s missing daughter Rose was taken with her infant son. How the girl and her child are connected to Michael DiAngelo remains a mystery to me, but right now, my priority is getting to Gabriella.
Patrick left some guards behind to keep an eye on Gabriella and Enzo, using them as leverage to force his daughter to marry Igor. But dealing with that fat bastard and the fallback from this royal fuck up is a problem for another day.
An Irish guard approaches right away when I park my bike behind the cars. “Hey buddy, you need to move your bike—”
He really should have raised his gun to me because I have mine out and aimed at him, sending a bullet through his head before he can finish his sentence.
The others hear the shot, and I quickly send each of them to wait for me in hell before moving past their dead bodies to the front door. The Italian guards inside are dead, no doubt courtesy of the O’Leary’s. One glance at the elevator panel and I know I’ll need a key card to override the security. Thankfully, I find one on a guard’s body and enter the elevator. From what I remember, Michael lives in the top penthouse of the tower. I can only hope that my memory is correct as I press the P1 button and swipe the card when prompted.
I have only enough time to swap clips out and raise my guns before the elevator dings and the doors open to a foyer and a pair of waiting Irish guards.
“What the fuck?” one man snaps.
I can imagine my appearance is as surprising as it is confusing since I’m still wearing my helmet. The last thing they probably expected to appear when those doors opened.
“Who the hell are you?” the other asks next.
“The last thing you’ll see,” I say as I raise my guns and fire.
One bullet hits true, but the other clips the man. I dodge his return fire by using the wall of the elevator, pissed that I missed.
“You motherfucker!”
I tear off my helmet and use it as bait to draw his fire by tossing it out of the elevator. When the idiot fires at it, like I expect he would, I lean out and this time I don’t miss. He falls to the floor with a new hole in his head and I step out, keeping my gun raised.
Glad I do. Because as I come around the corner of the foyer into the main living space, I find Gabriella on her knees in front of Enzo, her hands holding a bloody piece of clothing to his chest. A man stands behind her with his gun pointed at her head.
When she lifts her face to me, a fierce determination ignites behind the tears in her hazel eyes. Even in the face of death, she refuses to back down or accept defeat. My fierce little angel.
“Drop your weapon or I will kill her,” the man threatens.
I believe him. The O’Leary men are good, but from the slight uneasy look in his eyes, he knows that I’m better.
“You okay, angel?” I ask Gabriella, choosing to ignore the man’s order.
Gabriella closes her eyes, and fresh tears pour freely down her cheeks before she meets my eyes with a small smile. “Been better.”
My lips twitch at her humor. “Do you trust me?”
She doesn’t hesitate. “Always.”
Without breaking our eye contact, I fire. The man drops dead to the ground behind her. Gabriella collapses forward and I'm there kneeling beside her, immediately putting my hands on her to check for any signs of injury.
Gabriella brushes my hands away, repeating, “I’m fine. I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?”
Her head snaps up, an angry fire back in her eyes as she spits, “I said I’m fine, Dimitri.”
Well, okay then.
“We need to get Enzo to the hospital,” she continues. “The bleeding has slowed, but I’m worried the bullet hit his liver. He lost consciousness not long after Patrick took Rose and Liam, but the stupid Irish wouldn’t let me treat him. They just fucking laughed as my oldest friend lie here dying.”
“Then we need to move him.”
“No, we need to call an ambulance.”
“Ang—” She shoots me another fierce look and I correct myself. “Gabriella, there are at least a dozen dead men downstairs in the lobby and outside. An ambulance will only bring the authorities and unnecessary questions.”
“Well, he can’t stay here. So what do you suggest, then?”
It’s not easy, but somehow, we make it to the parking garage with the bleeding Viking sprawled over my back. Jesus. I’m going to need an alignment or three and a daily massage for a month to fix the damage this giant is doing to my body.
The lights of her Mercedes beeps showing that it has been unlocked. Gabriella gestures to it and hurries in front of me to open the back door. “Here. Set him down and I’ll sit in the back with him.”
She climbs in the back, scooting all the way to the other side to make as much room possible for the large man. I try to be mindful of his injury, but it’s difficult. Even unconscious, he cries out at the sudden rush of pain.
“Careful, Dimitri!”
I glare at her over his limp body. “I’m trying, but if you can’t tell, he’s fucking heavy. At least he’s alive and reacting to the pain.”
That deflates her anger, and I watch as her shoulders fall. “You’re right. There’s a jacket in my school bag up front. Can you hand it to me?”
I close the door and hurry around to the driver’s seat. Digging through her bag, I find the jacket in question and move to hand it to her. But it looks familiar.
“Is that—”
Gabriella snags the clothing and presses it to her friend’s bloody abdomen. “Yes, it is. Now can we go?”
I shouldn’t smile at a moment like this, but seeing that she still has the jacket I lent her during our walk along the beach one night brings a warmth to my heart. I had no intention of asking for it back when I first saw her wearing it and still don’t.
The entire ride to the hospital, Gabriella speaks to him in soothing tones, urging him to stay with her and to hold on while also yelling at me to “hurry the fuck up.” Lord…what I wouldn’t give to take her over my fucking knee right now for her attitude. I have so many questions to ask but know her main focus is getting Enzo to the hospital. By the time we make it, I’ve pushed the questions to the back of my mind to focus on getting her friend inside. It’s a mad rush of bodies and orders being shouted, but within thirty seconds, Enzo is out of the car and on a stretcher, being pushed through the sliding doors, surrounded by medical staff.
Gabriella tries to follow, but the staff holds her back, telling her to let them take care of her friend and to just wait in the waiting room.
I come up behind her, placing my hand on the middle of her back. She clutches my bloody jacket close to her chest as she stares in the direction they took Enzo. Tears fall free from her eyes as she sniffles hard and inhales a shaky breath.
“Gabriella.”
All at once she turns toward me and for a quick second, I worry she’s about to push me away, attack me even, but she collapses against my chest instead, sobbing. I wrap my arms around her, pulling her closer to me. It’s dangerous to be out here in the open like this, but fuck it. Let someone see. All I care about right now is this woman in my arms. Regret fills me as I think about how I failed her during the heartbreaking loss of our child, but I’m here now. And Lord help the person who gets in my way of doing it.