Page 43 of Consigliere’s Revenge

I gasp in shock as she points a sleek silver gun right at my face. “I’m sorry for this. I don’t have a choice in the matter. I need you to walk to the door. Keep quiet until Bruno has been taken care of,” she says.

My mind reels…

She’s going to shoot him, and he’ll never even see it coming. The minute she opens that door he’s going to be killed. Whoever sent her wants me, not him. My foot comes out and smashes into her stomach, just like my father taught me years ago, before she even gets a shot off.

The kick may have been perfectly placed, but when she shoots point blank, I feel every fiber of my skin burn and tear as the bullet rips through my shoulder. My head spins with the pain, biting down hard in an attempt to get a handle on it. At least the sound of the gunfire should have alerted Bruno to what’s going on inside the penthouse.

That’s all I can think about as the pain sears me with its intensity, and I try not to pass out. She grabs a dish towel and tosses it to me with tears in her eyes. “You could have just cost me my son,” she hisses. “Go!” She waves the gun at me, forcing me to walk in front of her. “Open the door or they will come for you,” she says.

I do as she’s asked, and my chest tightens at the sight of a man in a Larussio waiter’s suit, standing over Bruno’s still body, which is slumped on the floor right outside the elevator.

“Stupid puta,” he growls at the woman with the gun to my head. “Get in the elevator and hold it for me.” The man drags Bruno’s body into the penthouse and closes the door behind him. He grabs a white tablecloth from underneath the cart that’s in the elevator. “Stay close to me, and don’t make any sudden moves or I’ll shoot you again,” he says, folding it and using it to cover the blood-soaked dish towel and wound in my shoulder.

I do as he’s asked, staying close, still reeling from the pain and trying really hard not to pass the fuck out. “You’re going to walk right next to me behind this cart,” he says as the elevator takes the three of us to the lower level. “No fast moves, no screaming, not a fucking word or I’ll shoot the first person I see and that’ll be on you,” he says as the elevator opens.

He glances down both halls and heads to the right after pulling my hair over the cloth on my wounded shoulder, hiding it from everyone’s view before heading toward the main entrance where a line of cars usually sits. A woman with two kids passes us with towels and floaties, probably heading to the indoor pool area. The asshole doesn’t have to say a word because I have no doubt if I let out one scream he would do exactly as he’s threatened without hesitation. We pass a hoard of people, but they’re clearly six sheets to the wind and don’t give us a second glance.

We reach the door, and the doorman greets Maria. “How’s little Tommie today?” he asks.

“He’s good,” she says. “He will be better once I’m home with him,” she says.

I swallow past the fear and lump in my throat and walk with my captors out the door and into the night that has started to veil the city of sin. A delivery van with the Larussio logo is at the entrance, and the side panel opens and the ramp comes down.

My captor’s nervous now, and he should be. If any one of the Larussios recognize me with him, he’s a dead man, and we both know it. But we walk right up the ramp as Maria pushes the cart.

The man slams the door closed, effectively sealing off my last chance of escape as the driver pulls away from the resort.

He nods to the bench seat at the rear. “Sit.”

I do as he asks. He kneels on the floor, his gun still in hand. He uses his other hand to pull a black cell phone from his jacket while Maria secures and blindfolds me in the back of the windowless van. “It’s done. We have the girl. On the way to the warehouse.”

Chapter29

Lorenzo

I wakein the hotel room not far from our tower. It may not be the penthouse, but it’s not bad. A place usually used for bringing a woman to enjoy the evening and being able to send her on her way afterward.

No ties. No one staying the night and asking questions of me the next day, no chance for anyone to ensnare me in conversation or listen to me talking in my sleep, and most definitely no one sleeping in my bed.

Ever…

Except for Isabella…

And now she sleeps in my bed alone, without me. I suck in a breath, vowing to fix the situation as soon as this night is over. I glance at my watch and hurry to shower and get dressed because we’re not going to wait until the De Rosas’ formal dinner. We’re going to hit them when they’re boozing it up at the bar, when they’re smiling with a fucking drink in their hand.

When we walk through those doors, they’re going to know exactly who owns this fucking town, because it’s no longer the De Rosas. I text Salvatore and Dominic to let them know I’ll meet them in the club before we leave, but the plans are already in motion as we speak. Better that the bosses and myself are seen at the club while some of the instructions are being carried out.

Every one of our capos and their crews are watching the movement of every one of the soldiers that the De Rosas have on the streets, protecting their family as they begin gathering for the night. By the time we arrive, the perimeter will be clear of every single one of them.

Salvatore and Dominic are already at the reserved table in the club upstairs when I arrive. Salvatore gives me an inquisitive look. “I talked to Bruno about an hour ago. He said you didn’t come upstairs to sleep. Left Izzy in your penthouse and slept in the other side of the resort.”

“Bruno has a big mouth.”

Salvatore nods. “Perhaps. You know your woman friend is going to need to get cleared, right? I looked the other way because it’s you, and because you’ve got her writing the articles.”

He doesn’t have to tell me there’s a but coming.

He swivels a glass of barely touched scotch in front of him. “At the end of the day, the protocols haven’t all gone by the wayside just because Great-Uncle isn’t holding the reins. Do I agree with them all?” he asks. “Perhaps not. But they’ve served the family well over the years.”

---