Page 53 of Shot For Mercy

He looks slightly nervous, but he stares at me intently. Like he can’t tear his eyes away from me. The feeling is mutual. My eyes focus on those pretty pink, pouty lips, and suddenly I really want to kiss him. But I don’t. I stay rooted to my seat, trying to exercise some self-control. It’s slipping through my fingers steadily. I’m losing myself in him. Losing control. But I also can’t seem to want to stop, even if he makes a mess of me.

“You’re staring,” he whispers, smiling at me, his hand tightening in mine.

“You’re beautiful,” I breathe, and he grins.

Suddenly, there’s a commotion. Gun shots ring out, and the man at the table next to ours collapses to the floor, a pool of blood quickly following. Cole throws himself on the ground and so do I, and I take out my gun and aim it at the man with the weapon. The Russian is walking toward us from the front of the restaurant, clearly on a mission. He shoots at me, a bullet ringing right past my ear. I shoot him in the head from a distance. But then more men appear, shooting more of the customers, and my hands begin to tremble.

Fucking hell.

Cole and I are shooting now, taking them down, but the damage is done. This will be on the news, will probably draw the FBI to us. I guess it’s a good thing we have legitimate businesses.

The sirens are loud as the cops show up and the firefighters, along with multiple ambulances. The hostess must have called after we took the men down. I run a hand down my face, my breaths coming out in pants, and Cole gets closer to me. It soothes me immediately, his proximity, and I’m able to think more clearly.

I guess they were really serious about getting back at Cole. It’s probably Andrey’s doing, and I know he has to die. They all do. And then I’ll make an alliance with the new Pakhan. It’s the only thing that’s going to save us.

Our only choice.

Last night was absolutely insane. Never in a million years did I think the Russians would shoot up Giovanni’s, but we’re going to get back at them. All of them have to die. I also never thought Emiliano was the kind of man to take me out on a date. I thought for sure I’d have to give that dream up, but he surprised me. He keeps me guessing, always on my fucking toes. I don’t know up from down when I’m around him, and that’s dangerous. He really does make a mess of me.

Sitting in that restaurant across from him felt different. Like some switch flipped between us. He’s acting differently, I can tell. It’s as if Matteo leaving solidified our relationship for him, and now he’s making plans for the future with me. He offered me the club, for fuck’s sake. That’s a huge deal. The biggest step he could possibly take. It’s even bigger than a marriage proposal, in my opinion. Is that where we’re headed? Fuck, I hope so.

Everyone knows whose I am, and while some looked surprised, the people who matter to us have been accepting. Everyone except for one. The most important person of them all. I have faith he’ll come around eventually, though Emiliano sure doesn’t. He doesn’t have to say it out loud, but I can tell by the way he’s resigned himself to this. I haven’t though. I want Matteo to forgive us, to be part of our lives. Maybe that’s delusional, to think he could ever turn the page and start over with both of us, but I have hope.

I have to hope, or I’ll go into a deep depression. The thought of losing Matteo forever is enough to make getting out of bed every morning a struggle. If it weren’t for Emiliano being here for me, I’d be lost. I wouldn’t know what to do with myself. But he is here, lifting me up every morning. Making sure I brush my teeth and take a shower. Putting food in my belly. We haven’t fucked since the night Matty left, and honestly, I can’t blame him. I don’t think I want to right now either. It’s hard enough as it is. What if we fuck again and he comes home to talk? The thought makes me want to throw up. But I know eventually we’ll have to go back to normal. And I know Matty—he wouldn’t just show up uninvited anymore. Not after what he saw last time.

It couldn’t have been easy to see us together—naked. Was he there the entire time? On the other side of the door? Listening to us? The thought doesn’t disgust me. Instead, it destroys me. He probably didn’t know what the hell he was listening to at first. It had to be hard, realizing that his dad was the one fucking me. Which is why I don’t blame him for disappearing. He deserves time to process this situation—as much time as he needs. And who are we to determine how much time is enough for him? Just how much did we hurt him? I know it was a lot, but will he ever come around? Will I hold it against him if he doesn’t?

Fuck.

Now we also have the Russians to worry about. I can admit that I fucked up by not killing Andrey back then, like I wanted to. Instead, I opened a whole can of worms by almost cooking him alive. He wants revenge, but I’m not going to let him have it.

I was untouchable in prison, unfortunately for him. I had a reputation for slicing throats with a mere scalpel, and everyone was afraid of my collection of sharp objects. Not that I advertised them. People just happened to know. Probably my cellmate said something. He had a hard time keeping his mouth shut. It’s a miracle we got along so well, but he kept to himself mostly, and so did I.

I’m obviously out of prison now, though, which means Andrey thinks I’m fair game. I have to show him he’s mistaken. That if he doesn’t stop, the only one dying will be him. I have so many ideas for how to kill him too, and if there’s one thing I’ve learned the past few days is that killing him is non-negotiable. Ithasto happen. I also think the best way to start over is by killing them all. The Pakhan, his daughter, and Andrey. It’s the only way we can secure a new alliance with the Russians, by letting new leaders rise. Then maybe, just maybe, we can come to an agreement.

Emiliano stirs next to me, tightening his arm around my waist and pulling me in. He presses his nose into the crook of my neck and inhales deeply, then rubs it up the length of my throat and to my jaw. My eyes are still closed, and I focus on how good his body feels wrapped around mine.Thisis what my dreams are made of. This is what I’ve craved. How the hell did I get so lucky? How is this my life?

“You awake?” Emiliano asks, his voice thick from sleep. My cock stirs at the sound, and I breathe in deeply.

“Yeah,” I murmur. “Just thinking.”

There’s a beat of silence, as if he’s scared of the answer, but he still asks, “About what?”

“Last night,” I say with a sigh. “The Russians.”

Emiliano seems to relax at my words, as if this war is easier to talk about than his son. I know that’s the topic of conversation he’s trying to avoid. And it probably is easier to talk about this. It just sucks. I can’t be the only one who wants him back.

“What about them?” he asks, his hand roaming down to my naked hip and gripping it tightly.

“We need to get rid of them.”

“Obviously,” Emiliano says dryly.

I huff. “I mean, we need to get rid of the Pakhan, Andrey, and even Natasha.”

He stiffens. “Why Natasha?” I pause at his tone of voice, then narrow my eyes. “She hasn’t done anything.”

“Neither did all the customers at Giovanni’s last night, and they were still killed,” I snap. “She’s his sister. She’s gotta go.”

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