14. Dominic
Dominic
“What?” Cassandra snaps. “Do you want me to sit and wait to be abducted again?”
I look toward Marco and Leo for backup, but I get a shrug from my brother and a brow raise from my adviser.
“She’s got a point,” Leo mutters.
I lock my jaw as I glare at him. “Not happening.”
“Not your choice,” Cassandra quips. “You know I’m a great shot. I don’t even have to go fight with you, just let me stay here and protect the security hub.”
“We don’t have time to take the women anywhere else,” Lucas says, nodding toward the monitors.
Collectively, our attention turns to the screens. The Bratva-cartel associates are sprinting through the twelfth floor toward the east stairwell.
A growl emanates from my chest. “Fine. But you’re the last line of defense,” I tell Cassandra. “I have over a dozen men in here who will fight to protect you.” I wave my hand across the room at the guards gathered around.
A few legitimate employees watch shell-shocked as my Romano-Tariello soldiers check their weapons and wait for instructions. After this, I’ll have Leo remind the civilians they signed NDAs.
“Lucas, split the team into cells.” I point toward the men in front of me. “You seven, come with me.”
I lean down and pull my Smith and Wesson from my ankle holster. I have a smaller Glock in a pocket holster for backup.
Lucas barks orders through his earpiece, while Marco forms a game plan and quickly debriefs us. Leo fetches more earpieces and hands them to me, Marco, and a few soldiers. He gives the final one to Cassandra.
She smiles and mumbles, “Thank you,” as she turns it on.
I release a gust of air and shake my head. Stepping close and taking hold of her arm, I mutter, “I don’t like this.”
“There are four of them and an army of you. What’s the likelihood that they’ll get to me?”
Marco butts in. “As likely as it is for them to have their own army waiting outside.”
She sucks her lip between her teeth, doe eyes connecting with mine, finally understanding the gravity of the situation.
“Just stay here,” I command and turn to leave.
“Dominic, wait.” Cassandra grabs my hand and pulls me toward her. “I love you, be careful.” She grasps the base of my neck and tugs my hair as she lifts to her toes to place a searing kiss on my lips.
Every ounce of my being wants to wrap my arms around her and press into her warm, soft body. Instead, with great willpower, I break the kiss, stare deep into her eyes, and say, “I love you. I’ll be back soon.”
“Let’s go,” Marco shouts after kissing Amanda. With our soldiers following, Marco, Lucas, and I take off.
In the hallway outside the security hub, I place two guards and grab three more. Between them, the ones we left in the hub, Leo, and . . . Cassandra, the girls are covered.
In my ear, Leo says, “They’re up to the thirteenth, looking for the security elevator bank.”
Lucas turns left. “I’m meeting more of our guys near the west stairs. We’re headed up.”
“Leo, did you hear that?” Marco asks.
“Yep. Lucas, I’ll keep you updated on where they are in relation to your group.”
Marco parts ways, taking one soldier with him, with plans to meet more in the east stairwell.
“The enemy split up,” Leo says. “Bratva guys are headed to the east side of the floor, Medina guys are scouring the laundry room.”
Shit. They’re getting close.
“Lucas, get your guys to the laundry room first,” I instruct. Our elevator bank is between the laundry and the housekeeping supply room.
“Wait.” Cassandra’s voice breaks through our chatter. “Don’t they need a badge with a security pass to get into and on the security elevators?”
“Technically,” Leo says. “But I wouldn’t put it past them to have procured a badge. The Kozlovas and Medinas usually prepare.”
“Can you stop the elevator?” Cassandra asks.
“We could . . .” Leo trails off. “Dominic?”
“Let me get up there first.” I wave my group of four forward and swipe my key card to open the elevator bank doors. “Marco?” I ask.
“I’m headed up. Once the Bratva bastards figure out what’s going on, they will try to escape.” My brother isn’t always the sharpest, but when it comes to battle, he’s the best general I know.
“See you upstairs,” I say and jump in the lift with my handpicked soldiers. I hit the button for the thirteenth floor and adjust my gun, aiming to fire as soon as the doors open.
“I’ll go first,” I instruct my men. “We’ll split. Two of you come out on the left, the other two follow me on the right.”
When the elevator opens, we step forward, guns drawn. I carefully twist the handle of the elevator bank doors, then we wait, poised and ready. When nothing happens, I motion for the men to follow me into a short hallway that leads to the main thoroughfare of the thirteenth floor.
“Dominic, the Medina men are about to leave the laundry room. Lucas is in the west stairwell, ready to go. Marco and his team are a few floors down on the east stairwell,” Leo says.
“Tell me which direction the Medina assholes go when they leave the laundry room.”
“They’re leaving now.” Leo pauses. I hear a door open around the corner. “They’re turning your way.”
I lift my hand, communicating with my men to wait. If our aim is on point, this fight will end before it’s even started.
Footsteps follow the closing of the laundry room door. I crouch low so the soldier behind me can aim. A hushed conversation in Spanish echoes off the stark white walls.
“Ten feet away,” Leo says.
My men and I shift, setting our sights and placing our fingers on the triggers of our guns.
The first thing I see is a leather shoe, then navy suit pants, followed by the torso of my target.
I shoot before the man has a moment to react. The bullet slides through his ribcage, and his face registers horrified shock before his body slumps onto his partner.
“?Joder!” The second Medina accomplice shuffles backward, using his friend’s body as a shield.
My soldier across the small hallway steps forward and fires. “Fuck,” he curses as his bullet misses the target, hitting the dead man in the head.
The Medina associate scrambles to lift his weapon while struggling with his friend’s body.
Another one of my men steps forward and fires.
“Lucas, go,” I say as my soldier yells, “Got him!”
“Search the bodies,” I instruct my group. “Find out exactly who these assholes are.”
“The Russians heard the shots,” Leo says. “They’re on the run.”
“I’m on the thirteenth,” Marco says. “Coming out of the stairs.”
While commotion breaks out from one end of the floor, Lucas and his team arrive from the opposite direction, meeting me at the Medina bodies.
“Let’s go,” I say, leaving the dead men to rot. “Where are the Russians, Leo?”
“They went into the staff elevator. Hold on, I’m switching feed.”
Lucas and I take careful steps while we wait for Leo, guns raised, prepared for confrontation.
My adviser’s next words aren’t the ones I want to hear. “Well, shit.”
Marco groans. “Let me guess, they shot out the camera.”
“Not only that.” Leo sighs. “They shot the number panel. I have no way of knowing where the elevator is heading.”
“Won’t destroying the panel make it stop?” Cassandra asks.
“Not necessarily. Elevators have different default settings when they’re damaged. I don’t know if this one will trap them, go to the floor they selected, or go to a random floor.”
“Shit,” I mutter.
Reaching the staff elevators, Lucas and I wait for Marco.
“Can we pry the doors open?” Lucas asks.
“We can try,” Marco says as he arrives and grips the doors, pulling with everything he’s got.
“You take one side, and I’ll take the other.” I join him, working to get the tips of my fingers between the doors.
“Stop,” Leo barks. “You need the elevator key.”
I step back. “Get it for us.”
“I’ve got to get maintenance involved,” Leo says. “It’s going to take a minute.”
I rake my hand through my hair. “Involving maintenance is going to be an issue. We’ve got a couple of dead bodies up here.”
“Can you pull them into a side room?” Leo asks.
I glance down the hallway toward the deceased Medinas and laugh.
I don’t know whose idea it was to paint the hallways white, but in a Mafia-run hotel, that might not have been the best color scheme. Crimson splatters the walls, and pools of blood cover the floor.
“It’s almost artistic,” Marco comments with a snicker.
“Yeah, uh, Leo.” I cock my head. “No way we’re hiding this.”
“Oh, God.” Cassandra gasps. Leo has clearly switched the camera feed to show the massacre in the hallway.
“Cassandra, don’t look,” I beg.
“I switched the feed,” Leo says.
Pacing in circles, I work to come up with a better plan. “Can we get maintenance to open the doors a few floors down to see where they’re stuck?”
Leo curses. “Not necessary. The elevator opened on the third floor.”
“Wait. We’re on the second,” Cassandra says.
“They can’t get to you without getting into the security elevator,” I explain, rushing down the hallway toward said elevator.
Lucas and Marco follow behind. Marco instructs his group of men to take care of the bodies and tasks a few others with guarding all entrances on the floor to keep staff from stumbling upon the mess.
Lucas presses his badge on the reader, and the elevator opens before the men have a chance to respond.
“Go to the third floor,” I demand as Lucas pushes the button. “Leo, where are they now?”
“Headed toward the stairs.”
“Shit.” I watch the glowing display of numbers as we descend, shifting from foot to foot. My body hums with the instinct to fight. I’m like a caged animal waiting for the opportunity to pounce.
The doors open on the third floor just as Leo says, “They’re headed down the western staircase.”
“Lucas, go to the first floor and get men in place.” I bark out my order. “Try not to cause a scene. The last thing we need is the gala attendees panicking.”
“Got it.”
Marco and I rush forward, slamming onto the third floor. We turn right, sprinting past a collection of guest rooms.
Guns drawn, we reach the entrance to the stairwell, each perched on one side of the doorway.
“They’re halfway down the stairs,” Leo says. “You’re good to go.”
Marco opens the heavy metal door, and I step through, lining up my sights as I point my weapon down the stairs.
A deep voice yells in Russian, followed by heavy footsteps a floor below.
I don’t have to urge Marco to move. He’s already by my side, chasing our adversaries.
“They’re about to exit onto the first floor,” Leo says.
“Lucas, where are you?” I’m shouting into my earpiece, but I don’t care. The Bratva pricks already know we’re after them.
“Not there yet,” Lucas hisses. “I can’t run guns blazing. There’s people everywhere.”
Marco and I turn the final landing as the door for the bottom floor slams behind the Russians.
“Which way are they headed?” I ask, reaching for the handle, swinging the door wide, and entering an employee hallway.
“Around the corner to your right,” Leo answers. “Be careful, Dominic, they know you’re coming.”
“Hold on.” I press against Marco’s chest as he exits the stairwell, stopping him, and drop my voice. “You go after them. Distract them. I’m going through the theater and will cut them off from the back.”
At Marco’s nod, I sprint to my left, turning a corner and racing toward the backstage entrance. Similar to Il Palazzo’s layout, the employee hallways of Pharaoh’s Temple lead to both the side and back entrances of the theater.
“Lucas, send some guys Dominic’s way,” Leo instructs, his voice starting to crackle as our connection becomes weaker.
“No,” I answer, cognizant of keeping my voice low. “Help Marco. Make them think we’re only coming from one direction.”
“Dominic,” Cassandra pleads. “Don’t do this by yourself.”
“It will take Lucas’s guys too long to find me,” I argue, slipping into the theater. We didn’t open it to guests tonight. We’re saving the reveal of the dinner-theater-style auditorium for the show’s opening night next week.
“Domin—” Cassandra cuts off as I lose reception in my earpiece.
Fuck.
I take the gadget out of my ear so I can better use my hearing to track down my targets. I pause while climbing to the stage just long enough to hear a few muffled pops. Gunshots. I sure as shit hope the music in the ballroom and casino is loud enough to drown out the sound.
Once positive that I’m alone in the theater, I race backstage toward an exit that will lead me into the hallways. I press my ear to the door and listen. Nothing.
Carefully, I twist the knob and peek through a crack. The hallway seems empty. I replace my earpiece to see if the connection is reestablished.
“Leo?”
I get no response and pull the device from my ear again.
With my gun raised, I slide through the doorway, taking careful steps to avoid making a sound. When I’m sure the hallway is empty, I go to close the door, but I’m met with resistance.
Because someone is pulling from the other side.
I step back and raise my weapon as the door swings open. My finger twitches on the trigger, my mind working to process the sight in front of me.
“Oh, Jesus Christ,” I moan. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”