Page 25 of Savage Enemy

I would kill the son of a bitch for that once the coward stopped hiding behind Val. I needed to get a clean shot without the risk of hitting her.

He backed up through the foyer, out the front door, dragging Val along as his shield, and Saul Moscatelli casually walked out after them.

I sighted my weapon on both men, calculating the best shot at either one without putting a bullet into my girl.

Couldn’t take that chance, not ever.

Marco Moscatelli and his thug opened fire, forcing me to dive into the kitchen for cover. He slammed the front door shut just as I took my shot, causing my bullet to lodge in the solid wood panel instead of Saul Moscatelli’s head.

I peered around the corner at the staircase to be sure Enzo hadn’t come back. Thank fucking Christ he’d had the instinct to duck and run down the hallway.

I’d watched it happen in real time, my brain transforming the scene into slow motion. My boy had just a small trail of blood dripping down the side of his face, which made it reasonably safe for me to assume he hadn’t been shot.

He was safe now, for the time being, and I had to keep it that way while also fighting for his mother.

“Bella,” I shouted up the stairs.

She shouted back from behind cover. Good. Smart girl. She understood the life.

“I’ve got him, sir. He’s okay. And my aunt is here helping.”

“Lock the service stairwell door and don’t come down until you hear from me or Tony.”

Then I motioned for my men to head out the back and come around to flank Moscatelli and his men.

Tony had been hit, but that didn’t stop him. He dragged himself off the floor and followed the others outside. My second understood an attack on this house, on my family, was an attack on the entire Vignali organization.

The war I had tried to avoid now loomed on the horizon.

Seconds later, the young Moscatelli thug drew another weapon and fired with both hands like a goddamn cowboy in some stupid fucking Western. Ridiculous. And smart.

Doing so gave Marco enough cover to get the front door open again, so they could make a strategic escape.

Marco slipped through the opening, using the door as cover while firing as he and his brother made their way out.

The gunfire stopped at that point, so I sprinted to the door, but both idiots started firing behind them as they ran, making their shots wild and unpredictable.

I didn’t give a fuck if one hit me.

Nothing mattered but getting to Val.

I had to get to her before it was too late.

Ducking and weaving, I charged after those retreating bastards. They piled into a rented limo, tires screaming as it tore off, but I gave chase anyway.

Later my men would hunt down the owner of that rental company and kill him for doing business with a Chicago family. A fatal mistake to make in my city.

Enraged over the loss of Val, the attempt on my son’s life, the invasion into our home, I squared up and aimed for the limo tires.

The driver accelerated and moved out of range.

I fired anyway and emptied the mag, then kept pulling the trigger, gritting my teeth against the useless clicks of an empty motherfucking pistol.

I roared. “Fuck! God-fucking-damn it!”

Panting, I bent over with my hands on my thighs, trying to catch my breath and gather my thoughts. Then I spun and marched back into the house.

Tony followed, collapsing against the wall the moment we got inside.

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