“I’m fine,” I gritted out.
Ciro watched me with his predatory eyes for a long moment before shrugging and turning back to the other men. “Jet, you take Trigger and Colt and enter from the front. Jack, Raider, and Matt, from the side. My men will take the rear.”
I stiffened at this new plan. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“Keeping your dumb ass alive for your sister and woman.” He spoke without looking at me and then went back to giving out orders.
I stepped forward, not scared to get in his face. I’d face the devil himself to get to Gracie. Ciro wasn’t far off, and I would take him on in a heartbeat if that was what it would take to get to her sooner. “I’m going in the front.”
“Sure you are,” he agreed without batting an eye. “With me.”
“No way. I’m going in first. Gracie needs me.” I was shaking with rage—and pain. Fucking hell, I hurt so damn bad. My shoulder wound pulled and ached like a motherfucker and the one in my back was just as bad. I could barely lift my shoulder, but I wasn’t going to let that stop me from doing what I needed to do.
Ciro blew out a long, frustrated breath. “Your Gracie needs you breathing, dumbass. You can barely move for the pain and I’m not going to have your death on my conscious. So pay attention or I’ll make sure you don’t go anywhere.”
Knowing I had no choice, I bit back a curse and crossed my arms over my chest, not caring that it made my shoulder hurt that much more. Fuck Ciro. Fuck anyone who got in my way. If something happened to Gracie because I wasn’t through the door first, I would slit their throats.
“Alright. Let’s get packed up. We will be at Morgan’s house within twenty minutes.” Ciro nodded at his men and everyone checked their guns before they filed out of the small building we’d stopped at to strategize before heading on to Morgan’s home in Connecticut.
It was dark out, the moon offering little light to see by as the others got into the five SUVs. I wanted to be in the same one as Jet, the one that would arrive first, but Ciro gripped my shoulder—the one that hurt like a bitch—and tightened his hold until everyone was where they needed to be. With no room in any of the other vehicles, I was forced to climb into the back of the last one with Ciro.
“Keep your head.”
I didn’t look at him as the driver got behind the wheel and started the SUV, turning my gaze to glare out the window into the dark night instead. I wanted to punch the man in the face, break his jaw and a few teeth in the process, but that would get me nowhere but dead before I could hold Gracie again.
“I know how you feel, but if you want to keep your woman alive this is how we have to do it.”
My head snapped around. “You don’t know shit. She’s the fucking air in my chest. If something happens to her…”
Something on Ciro’s face stopped me from saying anything else. Even in the dark interior of the vehicle I could make out the almost bleak look in the guy’s eyes. Muttering a curse, I turned back to the window, not wanting to see that look. It only mirrored my own.
Before we reached the Morgan estate Ciro put in his earpiece and started reminding his men of the plan. I knew Jet and Uncle Jack had one too and wanted one of my own so that I could at least hear what was about to happen. Fuck, we didn’t even know if Gracie was at Morgan’s
house. She could be anywhere.
The SUV we were in slowed as the three in the lead sped forward. I felt like a blind man struggling to find his way as I waited. My heart was racing, my palms sweaty, my body one big throbbing pain. Fear of the unknown churned in my gut as I waited. And waited. And waited.
I heard gunshots in the distance, but nothing else. She was safe. She was safe. She was safe. I had to keep mentally repeating those three little words over and over again or I knew I was going to lose my shit. She was safe. She was safe.
Please God, let her be safe.
It felt like an eternity before Ciro was nodding his head at whatever he heard in his ear. “All clear. They have the house.”
The SUV came to a stop outside the huge house and I didn’t waste time waiting for the driver to open my door as I pulled out my Glock and ran into the house. The front door had been kicked in, the expensive wood nothing more than a pile of splinters now. A man in a suit who I thought I recognized as one of Santino’s men was lying on the floor just inside the door. I didn’t know if he was alive or dead, and I didn’t care
“She’s going to need a doctor,” I heard Uncle Jack say and my heart stuttered in my chest. Tears I didn’t care who saw burned my eyes as I rushed down the hall in the direction I’d heard my brothers’ voices coming from.
“Yeah. That’s a bad wound and it looks like it’s infected. These bastards didn’t even care that she was shot.” Hearing Jet didn’t make the pain in my chest lessen any.
I was going to vomit. I knew it. There would be no stopping it. I sucked in one deep breath after another and finally—finally—found the room where everyone was. They were in the family room, and my wild eyes searched around, taking everything in even as I looked frantically for Gracie.
There were two more men in suits lying on the floor, blood pooling out around them. A man in a polo shirt, dress pants and graying hair sat on a chair with Trigger’s gun pointed at his head. That had to be Morgan. At his feet was another lifeless body. His eyes were open, but blank in death, but I could make out enough details to know that this was Morgan’s son.
“Santino wasn’t here,” someone told Ciro who had come in behind me. “We’ll have everyone keep an eye out for him.”
I barely heard the two men talking as my gaze went around the room. I saw Uncle Jack first. He was on his knees on the floor beside Gracie, with Trigger on her other side. Tears poured down her bruised face as she held her arm against her and spoke quietly to her grandfather. Jet stood over them, his gun at the ready, protecting the most precious thing in my world.
Seeing her tears gutted me and I was across the room before I even realized I was moving. Uncle Jack lifted his head and nodded once before getting to his feet. I dropped down next to her. My eyes ate up the sight of her. Her face was one big bruise, making the rage start to build in my veins again. Someone had hit her, repeatedly it looked like. She was crying, and the pain I saw deep in her whiskey-brown eyes made my own body hurt that much more.