Page 113 of Ruthless Savior
My father rattles off an address, and I look over at Finn. “Got that?” He nods, and I turn back to Padraigh.
“When I come back, Rocco De Luca will be dead. And then I’ll decide what the fuck I’m going to do about you.”
I turn to Brian. "Get him to the manor and make sure he’s restrained in a locked room. If he tries to get free, incapacitatehim. If he tries to contact anyone, the same applies. If he so much as breathes wrong?—
"Sir, maybe you should?—"
“Should what?” I round on him, and he flinches.
"At least take backup?—"
“I plan to.” I look at Finn. “Finn, call Colin. Have him meet us with men at a point near the address. Make sure there’s enough security at the manor still to watch my father and keep the staff safe.”
The Dublin streets are slick with rain as I head out into the night, part of me desperately wanting to stay and wait for news about Leila. But I know where Rocco is, now. I have an address, a destination.
This can’t wait.Ican’t wait any longer to see him dead.
Rocco is at the Shelbourne Hotel, a luxurious spot that he likely thinks offers him some kind of safety. He’ll be on a floor with heavy security, secreted away in a room that he’s paid people to keep quiet about. But I’ve done business there before often enough, and I know the hotel's layout, know which service entrances aren't monitored, which stairwells lead to the penthouse level. He’s not going to hide from me in a gilded room any more than he hid from me in that filthy warehouse.
And this time, I’m not letting him live.
I joined up with Colin, Finn, and the four men they brought with them in an empty parking lot two streets over. We leave the SUVs there, moving silently through the dark, rainy night as we approach the back of the hotel.
The presidential suite occupies the entire top floor, accessible only by private elevator or the emergency stairs we take instead. Our footsteps echo softly in the concrete stairwell, each step bringing us closer to ending this once and for all.
Our weapons are all equipped with silencers. When we come up the stairwell, we take down the security patrolling the hallquickly, with muffled shots. The sound of the bodies hitting the floor will alert any other security inside the suite, and we move fast, flanking the door as I shoot the lock and then rear back and kick the door, hard.
Three strikes, and the door breaks open as I burst in with Finn, Colin, and the other men at my back. Rocco’s security is alert, but not enough for them to not take down two of his men before the shooting even starts. I leave them to handle Rocco’s security, going straight for the man himself as I see him emerge from the back of the suite, wearing an expensive suit with his dark hair slicked back.
His eyes are cold, a cruel smile on his face as he looks at me. "Ronan O'Malley.” His voice carries a faint Italian accent, his speech more Boston than European. "I was wondering when you'd arrive. Is the girl dead yet, or do I still have some chance of collecting on my loss?"
“I’m going to kill you.” I stalk toward him, my hand tight on my gun. I’d thought of all the ways I was going to ensure he died slowly, but suddenly, I’m no longer so sure I want to draw it out. I want him dead, plain and simple. Before, a quick death seemed too good for him, but now all I want is the surety of seeing him bleed out in front of me. Of knowing he’s gone and can never threaten me or mine again.
"A man like you doesn't hide while his woman fights for her life. Not when he could be out here, seeking vengeance." Rocco's smile is thin, humorless. "Admirable.”
I raise my gun, shooting him in the kneecap as I hear the sounds of my men taking out his behind me. His scream sends prickles of satisfaction over my skin as he falls to one knee, clutching his thigh. “She’s going to live. Unlike you."
“Fuck!” Rocco curses in a string of Italian, fumbling for his gun, but the next bullet goes into his wrist. I keep walkingtoward him, taking a shot with every stride, until he’s crumpled on the carpet bleeding from his knees, his hand, his shoulder.
I loom over him, aiming my gun at his head. “I was going to make this last longer. But all I want now is to see the light leave your fucking eyes.”
He smiles at me, his eyes cold. “As long as you die, too, O’Malley.”
I see the knife a split second before he strikes, his movement faster than I expected from a man bleeding out with shattered joints. The blade slices across my calf as I dodge backward, my gun still aimed at him.
He lurches toward me, pushing himself up in one desperate attempt to take me down with him. He’s fast and good—if he weren’t injured, this would have been a deadly fight. He’s no pampered crime boss; he’s a violent killer, and I knew that.
But I also knew that he didn’t stand a chance against me tonight. Not after what he’s done.
The room narrows down to the sight of Rocco swinging at me, his face set in grim determination, pain etched in every feature. I aim the gun at his face, my finger squeezing the trigger in the instant before his knife can reach my abdomen.
I feel the tip tear my shirt. I see him jackknife backward, the hollow sound of the silenced shot seemingly louder than it is as blood blooms over his face, pieces of meat and bone flying as he falls back to the carpet. I keep pulling the trigger as I advance toward him until the gun clicks empty and his face is a mess of exposed flesh.
For a long moment, I stand over him. The shooting behind me is finished, and I can hear the sounds of my men securing the suite. I wait to feel a sense of satisfaction, of vengeance achieved, but all I can think is that it’s done, and I need to get back to the hospital. Back to Leila.
I turn abruptly. “Get this cleaned up,” I order, striding back toward the door. “I’ll be at the hospital. Call me when it’s done.”
“Yes, boss,” Colin says, the other men nodding their agreement, and I stride out into the hall, walking past the dead bodies of Rocco’s security.
