Page 119 of Sinfully Savage Mafia

“Hold on, Matty.” Roman’s back at my side.

“I can’t get a solid count.”

“Gotta be, what? The five we counted, plus another two, at least, with heavy assaults. Maybe Kalashnikovs. Let’s strategize,” Sergio says to me.

“We create a distraction. They know we’re here, but we’re not shooting yet. You two split off, like I said, and go around the other way. I’ll draw fire,” I say. “It should give Heaven time to get back inside.”

“If something happens to you, Matteo…”

“Romo, I’ll be fine. Let’s?—”

And then, fucking Conor roars from inside the pub. I know it’s him. He’s there, I can see him, heading to the door, guns at the ready. But he’s got the building to protect him, and the fucking moron lets loose a round of fire, hitting one of the guys in the face.

“Come and get me, motherfuckers!”

And then it happens. Like slow motion. Like I’m watching from a distance, or in a dream.

It’s fucking Joey all over again, only this time, I’m here.

And it’s Heaven in danger.

The one he shoots goes down firing, like his finger was pressed on the trigger, and that makes another one of his guys open fire.

Until Conor plugs him in the neck.

Conor roars again, a tirade of bullets exploding into the air, with fucking Heaven trapped in the middle.

Dominguez’s men spray the area with more bullets, some hitting the table Heaven managed to dive behind. Wood is going to be no help in saving her. I need to protect her. Save her. One table is already in shards.

I don’t think. I don’t hesitate, I jerk away from my brothers, ignoring their shouts as the gunfire comes hot and fast from all directions.

I move fast over the pavement, shooting at the bastards as bullets ricochet around me.

Shoot me, shoot me, not her.

That’s what repeats in my head.

I have to reach Heaven. Protect her. Keep her safe.

One of Dominguez’s men falls as I land a shot, and ahead of me, both Conor and his father are now retaliating. But Heaven is still by herself, helpless under a table. I see a small gun in her hand but since she’s not firing, I can only guess it’s out of ammunition.

“Get back under cover,” I yell, almost there.

A bullet tears up the pavement at my feet, and then something slams into me and I go down hard. I try to rise when something hits me again.

It’s only moments but it takes forever. I’m lying on the ground, trying to move but I can’t. I look up. Joey is next to me.

But that’s not right. I wasn’t there for him that night. I was too fucking busy with my poker game to save him.

He can’t be here. I lost him.

And I’m in New York. Not Italy.

Fuck. Heaven. Heaven…is she…is…?

I scrape at the pavement, aware of two things—sirens so loud they might well be inside of my head and lack of gunfire.

It hurts.

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