I put the phone down and get out of the car. The warehouse where Garzolo must be waiting looms a short distance away.
Three guys surround me, guns at the ready. “Move,” one of them barks, jerking his head in the direction of the entrance.
I have no idea what I’m about to face here. The parking lot is empty. Garzolo’s guys must have parked out the back. How many men does he have with him? I could take these three down—they haven’t even taken my weapons—but for all I know, Garzolo’s got another twenty inside with him. I start walking with them.
What the hell does Garzolo want? If he just wanted to kill me, one of his men could have done it by now. He must want to talk. Why? I pass through the entrance of the warehouse and glance around.
Ten more men. All armed.
Garzolo walks out from behind a shipping container, gun in one hand and a knife in the other. “Right on time.” He looks way too fucking pleased with himself.
“Where’s Cleo?”
He smiles. “First things first. Drop your weapons to the ground and kick them over.”
I take my guns from the holster strapped across my chest and slide them over.
“All of your weapons.”
I pull out three knives and slide those over too.
“Good,” Garzolo says, his gaze twinkling with premature triumph. His men keep their guns pointed at me.
I spread my arms. “I’m here. Let her go.”
He chuckles. “I have to admit, I’m a bit curious. My daughter isn’t someone who inspires much loyalty. What is it about that awful girl that made you show up? I wasn’t even convinced she’d be good enough bait.”
I bare my teeth. How fucking dare he talk that way about her? “She’s mine.”
“Ah, I understand.” He drags his palm over his white beard. “It’s a matter of pride then. What kind of a don would you be if you couldn’t even protect your wife?”
“Garzolo. Let. Her. Go.”
He smiles again. “I will, once you give me what I want.”
“Fucking get to it then.”
“You know, all of this could have been avoided if you’d just moved a little slower in that restaurant. Instead, you had to make my life difficult.”
That fucker. So it was he who hired those hit men. “What life? Your life is about to be over.”
“No, my life is just beginning.” He shakes his head. “I want to know what you have on the district attorney. Must be something big for him to drop the charges against me. Give me the leverage you’ve got, and then we can get this over with.”
Of course. He wants to know how I got him out of jail so that he can kill me and still have it as insurance. A guy like him doesn’t know how to stay out of hot water.
“You’re an ungrateful piece of shit.”
He snickers and shakes his head. “I don’t want to be here all night, Rafaele.” He pulls his phone out and dangles it from his hand. “One call. That’s all it will take for Cleo to die.”
Rage and fear twist inside of me. How did I end up in this position?
“I’m going to ask you one more time. Think carefully about your answer. What do you have on the DA?”
My heart races. As soon as I tell him, he’ll kill me. If I keep my mouth shut, maybe I can buy myself some time. Find a way out of this mess. But that will mean risking Cleo’s life. I have no idea if Garzolo will really make that call. He’s fucking crazy.
I swallow past my dry throat. This is what my father trained me for. I spent years learning how to keep everyone at a distance. How to detach from my emotions. How to use that ruthlessness to my advantage.
The right thing would be to refuse him.
Garzolo watches me. A drop of sweat trails down my back.
He presses dial on his phone.
“Fine!” I break, my control slipping through my fingers. I squeeze my eyes shut, feeling something shatter inside of me. “The DA’s got an indentured servant that he’s been hiding for years in his home.”
Garzolo’s eyes flash with victory. “How very awful of him.” He lifts his gun, pointing it at my face. “Guess I’ll have to pay him a visit soon.”
I stare down the barrel.
And then a shot rings through the air.
CHAPTER 36
RAFAELE
I blink. Somehow, I’m still alive. Garzolo is crouched on the ground shouting commands at his men, and there’s gunfire all around me.
I duck and glance over my shoulder.
De Rossi and his consigliere, along with two more men I don’t recognize, are storming the warehouse. I huff out a breath. I might actually make it out of this alive.
Staying low, I run toward where my guns are lying discarded on the floor. I snatch them up and find cover behind the closest storage container.
Five against fourteen.
Not fucking bad.
I take aim and start firing, picking off Garzolo’s men one by one. De Rossi and his guys fight like demons raised straight from hell. Sounds of gunfire and screams ring through the air. Ras appears and takes cover beside me. He exchanges shots with one of Garzolo’s guys, and when he runs out of bullets, I take aim and get the man between the eyes.
“Fuck, nice shot,” Ras says, reloading his gun. “You okay?”
“Fine. You and your boss have perfect timing. Where’s Garzolo? We need him alive. I’ve got plans for him.”
“Yeah, you and the rest of us,” Ras mutters. “Over there.” He nods toward a pile of boxes at the back of the warehouse. “I saw him running.”
I glance around. Damiano’s men are keeping Garzolo’s guys occupied, and it looks like they’ve got it.
“I’m going to make sure he doesn’t get any farther,” I say to Ras and run toward the boxes. A bullet grazes me, but I ignore it.
Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in—
My back slams against the wall. From this angle, I can see him. Garzolo’s huddled in the corner, crouching with his gun raised while his men are dying.
Coward.
There’s a look of sheer panic etched onto his face. Blood runs onto the ground from his leg. He must have been hit when the fighting broke out. It takes him a while to notice me approach. He yelps and tries to shoot, but I’m on him too quickly. I force him down to the ground, knock the gun out of his hand, and press the barrel of my gun to his temple.
“You’re going to pay for what you’ve done,” I growl.
The gunshots around me die down. The fighting is over. Footsteps sound behind me, and Ras and De Rossi appear at my side.
“Not so fast,” Ras growls. “This cockroach deserves to die slowly.”
De Rossi nods. “Very fucking slowly.”
They’re right.
I stand up, keeping my gun pointed at Garzolo. I lift my foot and step on where Garzolo’s leg is shot. His bone makes a loud crunch, and he screams out in agony. It’s music to my ears. But it’s not enough. Not even close. I want him to suffer. I want him to feel the pain and fear Cleo felt when we were getting shot at by his men at Il Caminetto. Bloodlust makes my vision darken at the edges.
Then I remember—Cleo is waiting for me.
Fuck. I have to go to her.