35. Maxim
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
maxim
The city streets buzzed with their usual chaos as we exited Conall’s building, stepping into the biting cold of a New York evening. My mind was a whirlwind of thoughts—Cosimo’s revelations about Caruso being a mole within the Oliveto organization for Vallone had rocked the foundation of my plans. Caruso’s betrayal explained much, but it also complicated everything.
I wouldn’t miss the fucker. He’d been a pain in our ass for a long time, always making comments even when we were just teenagers. The mention of a relative yesterday had me wondering what that was about—some victim of my father’s trafficking ring. I wondered if I could get some kind of information about that. I wished I had a little more to go on, but the man was dead now, so that was … well, a dead end.
The bratva was much like the mafia. All organized crime families were balanced on a knife’s edge. We operated on fear, yes, but also respect and loyalty. If those currencies were violated, you had trouble in the ranks.
Cora walked a step ahead of me, her coat pulled tight around her, her gaze sweeping the street with an intensity I hadn’t seen in her before. Lev and Kolya flanked her, their hands resting under their coats where their weapons lay concealed. The atmosphere felt… charged. I didn’t like the feel of it.
In Russian, I ordered Lev and Kolya to tighten up and hurry. The sooner they had Cora to safety, the better. I swiveled my head, watching the streets.
We had barely made it halfway to the car when chaos erupted. The first shot came from a black SUV parked across the street, the sharp crack of gunfire slicing through the din of the evening. The bullet missed me by inches, embedding itself in the brick wall behind us.
“Down,” Kolya barked, shoving Cora toward the cover of a parked car. I dropped instinctively, drawing my pistol as Lev pulled me behind a metal trash bin. More shots followed, this time from a second vehicle further down the street. A Vallone hit squad — motherfuckers.
The cacophony of gunfire drowned out Cora’s shouts back to me, but I could see Kolya curved around her, shielding her as best he could with his body as he fired off a volley of shots at the attackers. It looked like she was furiously texting something. Lev was already returning fire, his movements precise and calculated, the picture of professional lethality.
“They’re flanking from the right!” Lev shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos. I shifted my position, firing at the two men attempting to approach us from the sidewalk. One went down with a gurgling cry; the other ducked behind a mailbox.
Conall’s men emerged from the building, guns blazing. I saw Conall himself, his face a mask of grim determination as he joined the fray. He moved with the ease of someone accustomed to violence, taking down two attackers with clean, efficient shots. But there were a lot of them, and they were better equipped than we were. This was planned.
A bullet grazed my shoulder, the searing pain momentarily distracting me. I clenched my teeth, forcing myself to stay focused. Lev noticed, his eyes narrowing as he fired to cover me, his teeth bared with a ferocity that bordered on recklessness.
“Kolya, status on Cora?” I barked in Russian, my voice sharp despite the chaos.
“She’s safe, boss. For now.” Kolya’s tone was strained but resolute. He was taking fire from two directions, his cover rapidly deteriorating.
The hit squad began advancing, their superior numbers fading but forcing us into tighter positions. Conall’s men held their ground, their return fire keeping the attackers from overwhelming us completely. Then I saw Conall stagger, a bullet catching him in the abdomen. He fell to one knee, his hand pressed against the wound as blood seeped through his fingers.
“Conall!” I shouted, breaking cover to reach him. Lev swore under his breath, moving to provide cover fire as I sprinted across the street. Another bullet grazed my thigh, the pain barely registering as adrenaline surged through me. I reached Conall, dragging him behind a car.
“Stay down,” I ordered, my voice harsh. Conall’s face was pale, but his eyes burned with fury.
“Like hell, I will,” he growled, raising his gun to fire at an advancing attacker. The movement cost him; he grimaced, fresh blood pouring from his wound.
Ilias, Angelo, and their men were sprinting from the building, eyes wide with confusion and rage as they took in the scene on the street and the scent of gunpowder.
The tide began to turn as Kolya and Lev coordinated with Conall’s men, methodically picking off the hit squad. The attackers, realizing they were outmatched, started to retreat, leaving their dead where they lay. Lev took down two more as they scrambled into their vehicles, tires screeching as they sped off down the street.
It fell eerily silent, the air thick with the acrid smell of gunpowder and blood. I leaned against the car, my shoulder and thigh throbbing in time with my heartbeat. Conall was slumped beside me, his breathing shallow but steady. Kolya and Lev approached, their expressions grim but victorious.
“They’ll regroup,” Kolya said, his tone devoid of optimism. “We’ll need to call in more men, be more careful from now on. We can’t be taken off guard like this again.”
“Let them come,” I replied, my voice cold. “Next time, we’ll be ready. We were sloppy today. Careless. It won’t happen again.”
Cora appeared then, her face pale but resolute. She knelt beside Conall, pressing her hands against his wound to stem the bleeding.
“We need to get him inside,” she said, her voice shaking but determined.
Lev nodded, already moving to help lift Conall as Angelo and Ilias came forward to help. I straightened, ignoring the pain that lanced through me. This wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.
“Jesus, old man, you got fucked up,” Angelo teased.
“Fuck off,” Conall answered, but his voice was thready.
“Whatever. You need more practice at ducking,” Ilias continued cheerily as if his friend wasn’t bleeding out, but he was trying to keep him talking and awake.
As we made our way back toward the building, the sound of distant sirens began to rise above the silence. Kolya and Lev stayed vigilant, their weapons drawn, scanning the surrounding streets for any signs of lingering threats. Cora walked beside Conall. Her hand was still pressed firmly against his wound to slow the bleeding.
Conall’s men moved quickly inside the lobby, clearing a path and barking orders to secure the area. The room was a flurry of motion, but my focus remained on Conall. His breathing had grown more labored, and his skin was ghostly pale. I knew I was dripping on the flooring, but I was pretty sure they were through-and-throughs even though Cora cast me worried looks.
“Get a doctor,” I ordered, my tone leaving no room for argument. “That O’Flannery guy.” Lev nodded and disappeared into the crowd, his phone already to his ear.
Cora glanced up at me, her expression a mix of worry and determination. “He’s losing a lot of blood.”
I crouched beside her, ignoring the sharp protest from my injured leg. “Stay with him. He’s strong, and we’ll get him through this.”
Conall’s eyes fluttered open, and he fixed me with a weak glare. “You’re... not rid of me yet,” he muttered, his voice barely audible.
I couldn’t help but smirk despite the gravity of the situation. “Good. I’d hate to lose the only Irishman stubborn enough to keep up with me.”
Dr. O’Flannery arrived moments later, rushing in with a harried look and swinging his case in one hand onto the table where we’d set Conall in the conference room. He wasted no time assessing Conall’s condition. As he worked, I felt Cora’s hand brush against mine. I glanced at her, and for a brief moment, her resolve faltered, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.
“He should be in a hospital,” Dr. O’Flannery muttered. “I’m going to need things.”
Ilias crossed his arms and scowled. “Give me a list. I’ll have everything in less than half an hour. Whatever you need.”
“And you. You’re bleeding.” O’Flannery pointed at me.
“Conall first. These can wait.”
“Fine. I need a nurse, too.” O’Flannery snapped as he turned his attention back to Conall before rattling off a list to Ilias. “And a nurse!” he said again.
“I can get a nurse,” Angelo said quietly.
Levering myself into a chair, I tugged Cora beside me. “We’ll make it through this,” I said, more for her sake than anyone else’s.
She nodded, her grip tightening. The chaos outside might have subsided, but the war was far from over. Tonight’s ambush was just the beginning, and I’d be damned if I let the Vallones think they could win. We’d regroup, strike back harder, and remind them exactly who they were dealing with.