Chapter 17
Massimo
“Amos!”
Hadley’s scream pierces through the sound of gunfire as I shove her and my son to the ground, covering them both with my body. Fear like I’ve never felt slices through my heart, tearing the black muscle into ribbons while bile rises up the back of my throat.
Pull yourself together!
“Get inside,” I demand, my tone brooking no argument as I roll off of them.
For a split second, Hadley hesitates, and I worry that she’s going to choose now to be obstinate, but then she wraps herself around Amos and hauls him into her arms as she stands. I watch as she rushes to the front door of the cabin and carries him inside, slamming the door behind them. Then I grab my gun out of my holster and force myself to focus on the problem at hand.
A bullet whizzes past me, and every muscle in my body tightens. “Who the fuck is shooting?” I bark while returning fire.
“No clue,” Big John replies from his crouched position by the SUV. “Sniper, I think.”
“How the hell did anyone find this place?” Emilio demands, his voice tight.
At the moment, that’s the least of my worries. There will be time enough later to figure out the how and why. Right now, I need to know who and where. The thought enters my mind that Emilio was the last person to leave the cabin, other than myself and Big John, which means he could be a traitor. But I quickly dismiss it. We’re brothers, and he’d never turn on me.
“It has to be Gio,” Big John yells as the windows of the SUV shatter.
Rage burns my blood, and if it were possible, I have no doubt it would boil right out of my veins. I scan the area searching for any hint of where the shooter is, and a glint of sunlight off of something metal catches my attention.
Gotcha!
“Northwest corner,” I yell to my men. “Center of the treeline.”
I aim my gun, as do Emilio and Big John, and we all fire simultaneously. When the shooting at us doesn’t stop, I know we missed our target. Unfortunately, Gio knows all of the organization’s moves and how we operate when we’re under attack, so taking him out isn’t going to be easy.
A grunt from behind me pulls my focus, and I spin around with my gun steady in my grip.
“Drop it,” the man pointing his own weapon at Emilio’s head snarls. “Or your brother dies.”
“Don’t, Mass,” Emilio says, his voice steady and calm. “You know as well as I do, giving them what they want won’t stop the bloodshed.”
No, but eliminating each and every bastard trying to take us out will.
Rather than lower my gun, I tilt my head as if to consider my options and squeeze the trigger. The man threatening Emilio crumbles to the ground with a hole in his forehead.
“None of our own dies today,” I snap, shifting my attention to the continued fire of the sniper.
Hadley
“I’m scared.”
I tighten my hold on Amos as I carry him up the stairs, following Greta to the ‘safest place on Earth.’
“I know you are, buddy,” I say. “But we’re going to be okay. Your dad and Zio will make sure of it.”
“That’s right,” Greta agrees. “Your dad would never let anything bad happen to you.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to remind her that-that isn’t a guarantee anyone can make, but I have no interest in scaring the poor child any more than he already is. I know fear, and it’s no fun.
“And neither will we.”
“Here we go,” Greta says absently as she leads us into her bedroom. “Lock that door behind you,” she instructs.
“I don’t think a lock is going to stop anyone with a weapon.” Despite my reservations, I do as I’m told. “Now what?”
She moves to the opposite wall where the door to her closet is. After opening it, she punches in a combination on a keypad just inside.
“Now, we wait,” she says and moves deeper into the walk-in.
Amos follows her like this is something they do all the time, but I’m a little more hesitant. When I enter the space, shock washes over me.
“Damn. He’s really prepared for everything , isn’t he?”
Like keeping captives cozy?
“Massimo doesn’t take any chances with the people he loves,” Greta says.
The gunfire continues outside, although the noise is muffled and barely audible. The walls of the cabin must be reinforced to have such an effect.
A tingle races up my spine, and I glance over my shoulder. Part of me wants to hide away with Amos and Greta, but then there’s the piece of me with inner demons stemming from my past, and she needs to use the balls she’s spent years growing.
“As soon as you close that door, we can’t be harmed,” Greta tells me. “Not only is it bulletproof, but unless you have the original blueprints, it’s impossible to know this room is even here.”
“What about Massimo?” I ask, torn about closing myself off to him. “We can’t help him if we’re in here.”
“And we also can’t be used against him.”
Used against him?
Without giving myself time to change my mind, I step away from two of the people I’ve come to cherish.
“Hadley, what are yo—”
I slam the door closed, cutting off Greta’s words and Amos’ shouts for me to stay with him. My heart cracks knowing I’m scaring him, but I have to do this. I have to help the other person I’ve not only come to cherish but also love: Massimo.
Love?
Admitting my feelings to myself is one thing, but now that I have, I know I have to tell him. And I can’t do that if he’s dead because of some misguided notion that I need protecting.
I’m coming, Massimo!
As I move through the cabin, I take deep breaths in an attempt to slow my heart rate. Focusing will be infinitely easier if I can hear myself think over the thudding in my chest.
I detour to the kitchen, realizing that I don’t have a weapon. Grabbing the biggest knife in the butcher block on the counter, I turn it over in my palm, testing my grip. The blade is serrated like a bread knife, and I grin, knowing the damage it can cause.
Thank God Greta likes to cook.
Retracing my steps, I move to the front door. I can hear the bullets flying more clearly, and for a split second, fear threatens to take over. I refuse to let it, though. Not now, not when it really matters.
I take a deep breath and square my shoulders as I shove the door open, exposing myself to the chaos.
“Massimo?” I call out, scanning the area before me.
When I turn to my right, I see him in a hand-to-hand fight with a man who looks familiar. I race across the porch and down the steps, but before I can get any further, strong arms wrap around me from behind.
“Get off me!” I shout, flailing my arms and legs like crazy.
“He can take care of himself.” Big John’s voice takes a minute to register, and as soon as it does, I settle down. The man sets me on my feet. “I can see why the boss likes you so much,” he says, humor in his tone. “You’re a little hellcat.”
Big John lifts his arm and inspects the long cut that’s oozing blood.
“Did I do that?” I ask, and when he nods, I continue. “I’m so sorry.”
His eyes narrow, and his expression hardens. “Don’t you ever do that.”
“Do what?”
“Show weakness by apologizing for protecting yourself.”
“I…” Heaving a sigh, I shrug. “It’ll never happen again.”
“See that it doesn’t.”
I whip around at Massimo’s dark tone. He’s grinning, but the sight is a stark contrast to the bloody man dangling from his grasp. It’s then that it sinks in: the gunfire has stopped.
Emilio walks toward us from the side of the cabin, his expression a mask of fury. “Pretty sure the sniper’s on the move.”
Massimo and Big John simultaneously twist their heads to look around the property. I do the same, having no clue what I’m actually looking for other than a man with a gun. The problem with that is I don’t know who’s friendly and who’s foe beyond the three men I’m standing with. And I’m not even sure about them.
“Recognize him?” Massimo asks, using one of his hands to lift the limp man’s head so I can see his face.
My breath catches in my chest, and I stumble backward as if kicked in the stomach by a raging bull.
“I’d say that’s a ‘yes,’” Emilio comments.
“Who the fuck is he, Hadley?” Massimo demands, anger flowing through the words.
Before I have a chance to respond, Big John grabs the man by his shirt and yanks him out of Massimo’s hold. “Does he remind you of anyone, boss?”
Why would a devil from my past remind Massimo of someone? How is this all connected?
Massimo sweeps his gaze over the man, and his eyes narrow. “Looks like an older version of Gio.”
Unable to remain silent, I blurt, “His name is Gaspare Marino.”
“Marino?” Massimo snaps. “As in Gio Marino?”
I shrug. “I guess.”
Gaspare begins to mumble incoherently as he regains consciousness, and when he lifts his head, his eyes widen the second he spots me.
Big John shakes him. “How are you and Gio related?”
“Put him in the back of the SUV,” Massimo orders. “Use a tranq on him if you have to.” As Big John drags Gaspare toward the mutilated vehicle, Massimo locks his gaze on me. “Go inside, Hadley. Emilio and I will handle the rest.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” I snap.
His shoulders stiffen. “Yes, you are. I don’t have time to argue wi—”
“Then don’t.” I lift the knife. “I can handle myself.”
“She might be able to get more answers than we can,” Emilio adds, his tone lacking the confidence it normally holds.
“Or she might do something stupid and get us all killed.”
“I’m right here, asshole. Don’t talk about me like I’m not.”
“Asshole?”
“This isn’t the time for either of you to let your stubborn nature take control.” Emilio checks his gun for ammo. “We need to find Gio so we can end this.”
Emilio doesn’t come right out and say the words, but he seems to be on my side, and for that, I’m grateful.
Massimo darts his eyes from me to his brother and back again before shoving his gun against my chest and taking the knife from my other hand. When I look at him with confusion, he rolls his eyes. “I’ll feel more comfortable if you have the better weapon.”
So would I.
I smile despite the situation clearly not calling for it. “Thanks.”
“You can thank me later.”
The sound of a snapping twig has all three of us whirling around. The man I saw that reminded me of Gaspare walks toward us, a rifle pointed in our direction.
“Gio,” Massimo says on a breath, a hint of sadness in his tone. “Mi fidavo di te e tu mi tradisci.”
“Probably shouldn’t have,” Gio says dryly.
“If you’re going to kill us, do it already,” Emilio challenges.
“If I were going to kill you, you’d be dead.” Gio moves closer. My instincts scream at me to back up, but I refuse to give in. “I’m a much better shot than what you saw today. And for the record,” he continues, “Gaspare is my brother.” Gio shifts his focus to me. “I believe you know our employer.”
Puzzle pieces begin to click into place as an onslaught of memories from my childhood assault my senses. “Colton Bernard.”
Years of rage simmer in my blood, and my vision becomes hazy. I lift my hand and point the gun at Gio’s head.
“Go ahead,” he taunts. “But if you kill me, a lot of questions will go unanswered. Gaspare certainly won’t talk.”
Understanding my predicament, I lower my aim and pull the trigger, sending a bullet through the fucker’s thigh. He howls in pain, and satisfaction slowly replaces the rage.
“Load him into the SUV,” Massimo orders his brother. “We’ll take them to the shed.”
“The shed?” I ask, following the men to the vehicle.
Massimo stops and turns to face me. “Hadley, the shed is not the place for you.”
“Why? Because you do bad things there?” When he doesn’t answer, I ask another question. “Is that where you’ve been the nights you came home covered in blood?”
“Yes,” he responds without hesitation.
“Then I’m coming.”