Page 56 of Impenitent Claim

Taking calming breaths as I pulled down the bedding and removed her shoes, the fresh burst of lavender sent a rush of calm through me. I couldn’t stay and watch over her, warm her with my body, or comfort her with my presence. There wassomewhere she needed me to be. But this cozy room was the best place for her. I made sure she was tucked tightly in the bed and snuggled deep in comfortable blankets.

I brushed the hair back from her face. “I heard you, darling girl. You don’t have to worry. I’m here. I’ve got you.”

And then I bent down and brushed a kiss over her forehead.

***

How was it possible that this criminal organization was as powerful as their reputation said? These mafia soldiers scuttled around like chickens without their heads!

The longer I watched, the more befuddled I became. These Italians were running one of the sloppiest missions I’d ever seen. Leaning against a wall, I frowned as they allowed the youths, their trainees, to scurry blindly about the streets. From what I’d gathered, these were young recruits being tested and guided by the more seasoned heads. Yet the actual mobsters looked just as incompetent as the boys they were supposed to be training.

They’re going to get themselves killed.

When the Rinaldi Famiglia partnered in business with the Conti Famiglia, they’d made an active enemy with a third family. It seemed tonight the Rinaldis were taking their revenge against the Scorso Famiglia for the shootout that disrupted their party the other night.

“Well, shit,” I muttered.

It would be wise to put the Scorsos on my radar to make sure there were no surprises when I made my own moves. Yet another player in this game to watch.

However….

If there was a war between the Italian families, it would be easier to fake my little siren’s death as a casualty. I rolled my neck, and a series of pops crackled down my spine. Pushingaway from the wall, I stalked the group of four Rinaldis, keeping a constant eye on the brother while making sure none of the others led him toward harm. They were going to set fire to a warehouse.

What they didn’t know was that there were a dozen guards inside the structure.

Is it possible they are doing this on purpose?It would make sense to create a situation where Gio became a casualty of war. Disposing of the late don’s son would mean there was no challenge to the current don or his prodigy. Which would explain why the fiancé was at home, watching some sci-fi movie instead of working in the family business.

Well, that wasn’t happening on my watch.

My feet pounded across the pavement as I sprinted ahead of the Rinaldis. The night swallowed me whole as I slipped into their enemy’s compound, the dark void broken only by the harsh floodlights sweeping the perimeter. I avoided the great pools of light and drew my weapon. As I moved, I screwed the suppressor onto the handgun.

I placed the weapon between my teeth and jumped onto the first stacked crate. It was moments like these that I was grateful for the gym back in Chicago where I could practice jump squats and other more street style gymnastic moves. I might not be as slim and agile as the youngest Vlasov, but I didn’t need to be as quick as Luka to kick the little fucker’s ass. Not that we’d squared off in the sparring ring, despite his incessant begging. I didn’t like fighting my brothers-in-arms, even if it was practice. I saved my battles for the underground fight circuits.

Climbing the stack of crates, I pushed the upper window open and pulled myself into the warehouse. There were no lights up here, but as soon as I moved from the window, light flooded a path to the door. It was chilly up here. The air was also stale despite the strong scent of coffee.

Drugs. There were likely drugs in the crates, and the roasted beans were meant to cover the scent.

Through the crack in the door, I scanned for adversaries. When none presented themselves, I hurried forward. The upper hall was clear. They weren’t expecting an attack from above.

Good. That meant they were likely still grouped and pointing their weapons at the front door.

When I’d surveyed this site from the roof of a neighboring building, I counted an accurate number of assailants. The Rinaldis were either sloppy enough to think there were only the soldiers at the gate and in the yard. Or they miscounted on purpose and didn’t communicate the sheer force waiting inside with their younger recruits sent to storm the building.

I hadn’t taken out this many assailants by myself in a few years. But the bloodlust of battle was simply a switch that once flipped on became a second nature. Drawing my knife, I ghosted down the metal stairs. I had maybe ten minutes before the Rinaldis broke through the front gate and the brother’s group came straight for the warehouse with their incendiaries.

The honed edge of my blade slid across the neck of a goon with ease. It was like slicing through a piece of dinner meat.

I caught his mass and lowered him to the ground, using the stairs as cover. Three more goons joined him, each pulled higher on the stairs to conceal the destruction. The rest were too far away.

I darted across a narrow opening and took cover. My pulse pounded in my ears, but I forced it to quiet, every muscle tense as I crouched low behind the stack of crates. Boots crunched just a few feet away as a goon moved to look out a window. I held my breath. One, two…then silence.

It was too quiet in here to start shooting. Even with a suppressor, the soft pops would be noticeable.

The goon moved again, this time right in my line of sight. When he turned, he would see me. The urge to strangle him with my bare hands prickled across my skin. Slipping my gun into the waistband of my pants, I rose and stalked forward. One arm curled around his throat as my palm clapped over his mouth. I squeezed and dropped backward, letting my weight drag us to the concrete. From this position, it was easy to wrap the rest of his struggling form tight.

He stopped twitching several minutes later.

It was precious time lost, but there was one less opponent.

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