Chapter 47
LORENZO
Icrouch in the tall grass, its cold dampness seeping through my jeans.
In the last dozen years, I’ve been on more rescue missions than I care to remember.
I went in, did what was necessary, and came out alive every time.
So why is my gut in turmoil?
Because of Emily.
Because her kid brother’s life is at stake.
If I fuck up and Teddy dies, I’ll never be able to live with myself.
But we’re in good shape. Dante’s brought three of our finest men, including our best soldier, Agosti.
Taking a deep breath, I check the room through the half-open window, then slip inside and drop silently onto the hardwood floor.
From the far room above, a boy cries.
Teddy.
His exhausted, shuddering sobs cut through the silence of the house.
I press my back against the wall, closing my eyes for a single heartbeat as the raw panic of it threatens to choke my focus.
Hold it together, Ricci.
Steeling my grip on my weapon, I move up the staircase, staying close to the wall.
From my vantage point on the landing, the doorway to the upper study is cracked wide.
Inside sits Emily’s uncle, Eton. He is not handcuffed. He is not bloodied like the gruesome warnings the Russians love to leave behind.
He lifts a cut-crystal glass of scotch to his lips.
Eton isn’t a hostage.
From the comfort of his chair, it looks as though he brokered a deal.
The bastard.
The realization hits me like a physical blow.
It looks as though he used his own nephew as currency to dig himself out of whatever deep Russian gambling hole he crawled into.
Inside the room, Boris Petrov stands over him.
I strain to hear their rapid English as the conversation suddenly turns volatile.
Eton’s voice cracks in a desperate plea, but Boris isn’t having any of it.
From Boris’s tone and Eton’s sudden pleading, I understand enough.
Eton delivered Teddy, and now the Russians consider him a loose end.
Boris screams an order in Russian.
Within seconds, two massive Russian guards slam Eton into the leather chair, binding his wrists and shoving a gag into his mouth.
Whatever protection Eton expected from the deal has vanished. He’s entirely dispensable now.
Good. A cold, predatory detachment settles over my panic. Let the courts have him. Let him rot in a cell.
But first, I take back the boy.
I watch the two soldiers guarding the doorway. Their posture is surprisingly casual.
Clearly, they don’t know the Riccis have already infiltrated the building.
Dante’s voice comes low through my earpiece, a lethal hum.
“In position. Roof access clear. Agosti is ready. Exiting the corner stairwell now.”
Across the upper hallway, a shadow separates from the corner stairwell. Agosti emerges and meets my eyes.
I tighten my grip on my gun. My cue.
The plan is dangerous, but we’ve used the same diversion before.
I’m to reveal myself and draw their attention while Agosti comes at them from the opposite side.
I step into the light. Before the guards can even raise their rifles, I fire twice. Two bodies hit the floor.
The room erupts in gunfire, shouting, and muzzle flashes.
“Move! Move!” I bellow.
Agosti storms into the room, taking aim at Boris, while I spin to eliminate his number-one enforcer.
Behind me, Dante and our top soldiers breach the threshold.
Boris opens fire on Dante. My brother dives aside. But our two Ricci soldiers entering behind him are caught in the burst and collapse in the doorway.
In the melee, Boris’s enforcer slams his weight into Agosti and fires. The bullet tears through his side, dropping him to one knee.
Rage blinds me.
I level my weapon and take Boris’s enforcer off his feet with a double-tap to the chest.
But as the smoke clears, horror seizes my chest.
Boris swings his rifle toward Dante. His finger tightens on the trigger.
From one knee, Agosti throws his entire weight into Boris’s legs.
The rifle barks.
The bullet flies wide, missing Dante’s ear by an inch.
Agosti rips the weapon from Boris’s hands and slams him face-first onto the hardwood floor.
Pressing one hand against his bleeding side, he plants a boot on Boris’s neck.
“Dante,” Agosti gasps. “He’s yours.”
Dante steps forward, his face an emotionless mask. Boris has threatened our family for the last time.
I don’t have time to watch. I whirl toward the corner where Eton sits, his eyes wide and bulging with terror.
He stares at the muzzle of my gun.
My trigger finger twitches.
Eton is weak. He is selfish. He allowed his own nephew to be caged.
But I stop. I lower the barrel.
No. Emily has already lost enough because of this man.
I’ll let the courts tear him apart and leave him staring at concrete walls for the rest of his miserable life.
Turning on my heel, I sprint down the adjoining corridor toward the back room.
Through the half-open door, I see Teddy huddled in the center of the hardwood floor.
“Teddy.”
His frightened eyes find mine.
I holster my gun and drop beside him, pulling him against my chest.
“Mimi,” he sobs. “I want Mimi.”
“She’s safe. And I’m taking you to her.”
I carry Teddy outside.
The moment Emily sees him, she tears open the car door and runs toward us.
“Mimi!”
Teddy slips from my arms into hers. Emily drops to her knees, clutching him so tightly that neither of them seems willing to let go.
I stand over them, my gun still warm against my side. And I make myself a silent promise.
No one will ever use her family against us again.