Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 111537 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 558(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111537 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 558(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
I freeze, my mind a jumbled mess of frantic thoughts. I don’t want Giovanni to die. Yes, I want my revenge, but not at the cost of my brother. That’s one price I’m not willing to pay. Giovanni looks up at me, and I see something in his eyes that I’ve never seen before, fear. He’s scared.
“Cisco,” Giovanni says plaintively, like he’s already given up. Like he knows I’m going to choose my revenge over him.
Marcello sneers at my silence, twisting the barrel of the gun against Giovanni’s head. “Do you see how he is? He’s got no loyalty.”
I don’t know what to do. The look in Giovanni’s eyes is torture, but can I really let Marcello get away? Luckily, Marcello decides he values his life more. He knows I wouldn’t really let him hurt Giovanni and doesn’t want to risk it. He climbs up, weapon still pointed down at my brother. He begins to back away.
Giovanni exhales, expressing relief too soon when we are not out of the woods yet. I set my sights on the traitor and charge, intending to tackle him or die trying. I hear the gun go off again, mentally prepared for the pain. But I’m hit from behind.
Giovanni slams into me, forcing me to the ground. I cry out in anger and frustration, shoving my brother off me. By the time I regain my balance, Marcello is running away.
“No!” I shout, unwilling to allow both of my sworn enemies to escape.
A bullet digs into the ground at my feet, causing me to halt. As crazed as I am right now, the sight is sobering. I turn on my brother, my anger getting the better of me.
“Why did you do that!” I shout.
“What are you talking about?” he demands, rising to his feet and brushing his knees off. “You were going to get shot!”
“I could have handled it!” I grit out.
“Really?” he snaps, angrier than I’ve ever seen him before. “Forgive me for not realizing that you’re bulletproof!”
“You let him get away!” I yell.
“No!” Giovanni screams, getting up in my face. “He got away! There’s a difference.”
“Don’t you talk to me like that,” I warn him, taking a step back.
“Why?” he demands. “Are you going to kick me again?”
I take a deep breath, realizing that I’m on the losing team. Both of my targets escaped, and I’m left arguing with my brother in an open field. It’s not his fault. He was just trying to protect me. I close my eyes to allow the calm of the late afternoon sun to infiltrate my senses, regaining my composure. When I open my eyes again, I can see that I’ve come close to damaging one of the most important relationships in my life.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
“Damned right,” he swears, turning away from me to walk back to the warehouse.
I can’t hear the sounds of the battle anymore. It’s likely that the conflict is over, and that Marlena needs my help. I can’t be sure that my men have won, although in the short amount of time I had to gauge the scene, it appeared that we had a numerical advantage.
“Giovanni!” I yell.
“What?” he snaps, turning around to glare at me.
“I’m sorry,” I repeat, striding toward him.
He looks away, coming down from his adrenaline high. I can see that he’s realized he overstepped his bounds. There are strict rules about communication within our family, and even blood relations aren’t allowed to ignore them. I’m the Don, and he’s my second in command. It doesn’t matter what happens.
By way of apology, he presses a hand to his side. “You kick hard,” he mutters.
I put a hand on his shoulder. “You knocked the wind out of me.”
“I guess we’re even,” Giovanni says with a smile.
We’re good again; it didn’t take long. I turn my attention back to the warehouse. Holstering my useless weapon, I hurry back down the alley toward the crime scene. I decide it would be better to come to the warehouse from the front. The door is much larger, and we’ll have the damaged car for cover.
We hustle around to the parking lot to find several of Carmine’s men getting ready to drive away. I glance back at the warehouse and can see a few bodies littering the ground. Marlena is nowhere in sight.
“Where’s my wife?” I demand.
“Luca took her back to the house, sir,” one soldier tells me in Italian.
“Take me there,” I command, climbing into the back of the car.
Giovanni crowds in behind me, and the driver takes off. I notice that a few of the men no longer have a place to sit. They’ll be sitting ducks when the cops get here, but that’s not my main concern right now. They’re resourceful, and I trust them to get out of there in time. What I want is a reunion with my wife and my son. I want to hold them in my arms, to know that they are unharmed.