Page 15 of Mafia Heiress
Footsteps sound behind me. “What the fuck, Jack?”
“Shut the fuck up and call Ciro. If you can’t get him, call Marcello.”
I don’t give him a moment to think about it as I ease myself into the foyer. With all the lights on I don’t need to creep around, but I can’t see anyone. It’s silent and there isn’t any movement. It feels like I’m alone.
Vito comes up behind me and whispers in my ear. “Ciro said ten.” He has his own gun in hand, watching my back.
I nod, walking back further into the house. We clear the kitchen and the screen room. A shuffle sounds from above us and I automatically point my gun up to the top of the stairs.
Footsteps come our way and I tuck myself back into the hall before they can see us. Vito glued to my side. I hear a hiss of pain and an inhale of breath. It sounds female.
I edge around the corner and see blonde hair falling down, completely covering a face. A bloody hand holding onto the railing and the other pressed to a stomach.
“Annette,” I scream, moving out of my hiding spot. Vito curses under his breath but he follows me, pointing his gun to the top of the stairs.
“Giacomina.” She drops into my hands as soon as I reach for her. I slow her movement but we both fall to the floor.
“Are they gone? Annette, is there someone here with us?” Vito questions her.
“I don’t know,” she whispers and closes her eyes.
I rip off my shirt and hold it to the wound in her stomach. She’s been shot, blood pouring out. “We’re going to get you help. Don’t worry.”
The tears fall from my face. I can’t believe this happened. In my own house. Where I’ve spent all my life feeling safe and protected. I’m going to personally kill whoever did this.
As Vito starts to climb the stairs, Ciro and five guys bust in, guns in their hands. He looks like an avenging angel. He sees me and the blood, and all the color drains from him. He’s about to drop his gun but I shake my head.
“It’s not mine. Go find Daddy. I have to call an ambulance for Annette so make it fast. The cops will be here soon after.”
“I already called Marcello. Private ambulance is on the way. He should be able to hold it off for a while. Those FBI douchebags like to take everything under control.”
“Go help my family,” I grit out before turning back to Annette. I cradle her head in my lap, but there’s so much blood. I don’t know if she’s going to make it. She’s my second mother, the one that cared for me and the boys when my parents couldn’t. She’s lived with us for so long, I don’t remember a life without her.
Three of the men burst through the first floor, while Ciro and Vito head for the upstairs. There’s a panic room in my parents bedroom. I hope they were all able to get there fast enough.
Shouts come from outside and one of the men gets in the ambulance. A guy no more than my age sees the sight and his face goes right into emergency mode. He’s not wearing a uniform but he’s got on jeans and a flannel. Hair is slicked back and glasses perch on his nose.
“I have to move her. Can you let go?” he asks, and I realize I was staring at him.
“Sorry.” I gently wiggle out from under Annette and watch as the guy and two other people lift her onto a stretcher.
Paper and plastic go flying from their hands as they hook her up to all different tubes. A beeping sound comes and the word ‘clear’ echoes off the marble.
I don’t have the energy to get off the floor, so I scoot back and cradle my SIG to my chest, ready in case anyone comes down the stairs. I don’t know how long I sit there, but the next thing that grabs my attention is my mother screaming.
She’s at the top of the stairs in her nightdress. Curlers still in her hair. She looks down at the sight, finds me with blood all over my clothes and screams again, this time falling to her knees paralyzed with fear.
“Momma! Momma! It’s not mine,” I shout, throwing my gun down and getting up to catch her before she topples down the stairs.
I grab her up and she hugs me, pulling me so close that I can’t breathe for a moment. She’s rambling in my ear, her Italian so thick I hardly catch any of the words. She shakes with a terror that I don’t think anyone but a mother could feel.
“Jack, are you okay?” Ciro says, kneeling down next to us. I grip my mother tighter and shift my weight so I can look at him.
“We’re fine. Where is my father?”
“Not here. Frankie said they took him.”
“Who took him? What the fuck, Ciro?”
