I tried to jerk the handlebars around. Too late. Peppone lunged at me, grabbing hold of my jacket and ripping me off the bike. I slammed to the ground, the air leaving my lungs and my ribs ringing with pain. Probably broken again.
A blade flashed in the corner of my eye. I rolled over, bringing my legs up in defense when Peppone attacked me with a knife. I wasn’t sure what had happened to his gun, but he was good with the knife too. I aimed a desperate kick at his knife hand but he jumped back, eyeing me like a cockroach that he wanted to squash under his boot.
I pushed to my feet and faced him, without a weapon. I’d lost my gun and knife when I’d fallen from the bike.
Peppone lunged at me again, slashing along my forearm, sending burning pain through me. I gritted my teeth against the pain, and clamped my hand around his wrist, then jerked him against me and gave him a head-bang.
Pain slammed through my temples, but Peppone actually began to sway. I used his moment of disorientation and kicked him in the balls too. He sagged down on his knees and I rammed my knee against his chin, knocking him out.
Panting hard and bleeding profusely from my head and arm wound, I cursed the Famiglia, and my stupid heart which had led me into the midst of the enemy. All for a woman.
But what a woman, damn it!
A bullet ripped a hole into the tree beside me, sending bark flying everywhere and cutting my moment of anger short. I ducked and hid behind the trunk. I felt my face for injuries from the bark, but it was covered in blood, dust, and hay, so it was impossible to detect possible cuts.
Peppone was safe from the bullets where he lay on the ground. Not that I would have cared if they’d riddled him like a fucking swiss cheese but I needed answers. Afterward, I could still kill the bastard.
I searched the ground for my gun, got even down on my knees, and when I finally found it, I could have screamed in triumph. I grabbed it and crept closer to the building. It was two against one now if I’d counted the Nomads correctly. Now that my Italian “friends” were dead or unconscious, I was up against the bikers on my own. Though I pretty much had been on my own from the very start.
I couldn’t believe I had been stupid enough to trust these assholes. Though trust was the wrong word. I hadn’t exactly trusted them. I had trusted in their fear of their Capo. Of course, I’d thought said Capo had accepted me. Maybe he hadn’t. Maybe this had been his ploy but now wasn’t the time to wreck my brain about it. I had to deal with my opponents first.
I crept closer to the house but I’d be without protection the last few steps from the shed to the door. My only other option was to drag Peppone to the car and return to New York without eliminating the two Nomads.
That wasn’t really an option. They posed a danger for Marcella and I wouldn’t allow it, even if I got killed protecting her.
I ran faster than I ever had in my life and threw myself against the door with full force. Once inside, I began firing right away until I was out of ammunition and hidden in the narrow bathroom. Luckily, it only took a couple more minutes for the gunshots from the Nomads to cease. They were either out of bullets or simply reloading. Only one way to find out.
With a battle cry, I jumped up and charged into the kitchen where one of my opponents was hiding. He attacked me with a shard from the broken window, but I no longer felt pain.
Thirty minutes later, I came out of the house victorious, having killed both my opponents, but with a cut in my arm.
Exhausted, in pain and seething, I went back to where I’d left my Italian friends. One was definitely still dead but Peppone was stirring. I leaned over him, pointing the gun I’d collected from one of the bikers at his head. His eyes fluttered and finally opened, then immediately went cross-eyed as he focused on the barrel.
“Hello sunshine,” I growled with a cold smile. “I think we need to talk.”
“Fuck off,” he seethed. I pressed my foot down on his sternum, stealing his breath.
“What was that?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.
“I won’t talk to you, dirty biker.”
I rolled my eyes. “Dirty biker, is that the only insult your tiny brain can come with? Do you want me to get creative to extract information out of you?”
“Nothing you can do will make me talk.”
In general, such a daring statement wouldn’t have worried me, but considering that this was one of Luca’s men, the chances of him being prepared to withstand torture weren’t small. Earl had been the creative one and usually taken care of questioning.
“If you’re so adamant about keeping your mouth shut, I’ll have to assume talking would get you in trouble, and that means you’re protecting your Capo, am I right?”
“Luca had nothing to do with this. We did this for him and the Famiglia.”
I wasn’t sure if I really believed him. A groan came from from beside the oak. Drooping-Eye was awakening slowly, unlike Dimo who looked surprisingly dead.
After I’d found rope in the car, I tied them up and put them on the truck bed before I returned to New York. I was seething. Now that the adrenaline had settled only anger remained. I didn’t want to have to live my life looking over my shoulder for Famiglia soldiers to attack me again. The closer I got to New York, the angrier I got. When I finally pulled up in front of the Sphere I was fuming. I was out for blood.
If Luca was behind this assassination, I’d end him. I’d no longer try to play nice. If Marcella really loved me, she’d be on my side and be glad that I’d killed the man who didn’t want us to be together.
I couldn’t focus on the pages before me, hadn’t really been able to focus all afternoon and evening. I’d sent Maddox two messages and even called him but his phone was dead. I was starting to get nervous.
“You still haven’t heard word about the mission?” I asked Matteo for the hundredth time. I knew that they’d discovered a Nomad hiding place and would attack today.
“No. But maybe your dad has news when he returns from the restrooms.” Matteo chuckled when he saw my sour face. “Don’t look so worried. He’ll come back in one piece.”
I really didn’t know what he found funny. His kind of humor wasn’t my thing today. “I can’t help it. I’m still not a hundred percent sure Dad wouldn’t prefer Maddox to have an accident so I’d be with someone else.”
“Your father certainly isn’t Maddox’s biggest fan, but he wants you happy,” Matteo said. He was calmly checking drug sales numbers on his laptop while I was reading the same passage about our debtors and interest rates for the fourth time. My brain seemed foggy.
The door opened and Dad came back from the toilet.
“Anything?”
Dad raised his eyebrows.
“She’s worried because of White,” Matteo said.
Dad shook his head.