At least it was good to see she hadn’t lost her defiance. “Don’t worry, sweet angel. Nothing will happen to them as long as they cooperate. Let’s just hope they give a damn about their friend.” I snapped my head in Niccolo’s direction, giving him a commanding look. Right now, I needed the few people I could trust to do exactly as I said. “Just explain the situation and monitor them. Only handle it your way if there is no other choice. Get me an extraction at the airport but make it level one. That business trip I sent you on? I’m taking it instead.” Level one. Code for a decoy. My gut told me the shit was going to get messy.
It had been our father’s idea after a near assassination attempt. The shelled-out plane might provide itself useful.
“You have style, brother. Or maybe you just wanted to spend some quality time,” he said, slanting his eyes in Cassidy’s direction then popping me on the arm. “I’ll call you.”
Italy.
Niccolo and I had spent enough time growing up outside of Naples to have an appreciation of an entirely different way of life. The Vincheti name had once put the fear of God into every region within the country as well as several others in Europe. Through world wars and the advancement of the Cosa Nostra, our power was slowly stripped away. While we still held a presence within Italy, my grandfather had encouraged my father to start a new regime after our wine distribution within the States had become successful.
However, we’d held onto our expansive vineyards, owning several thousand acres near Naples. It was the only place I’d ever felt happy or at peace. It was also the one place I’d gone to in order to heal.
It would serve as a quiet refuge to figure out what the hell was going on. We also had good friends, the kind who could aid in several ways.
Another two shots could be heard, although they were muffled.
“Handle the goddamn police. There is no doubt they’ll make their presence known. The commissioner is gunning for the family. We can’t let that happen,” I snarked, yanking her toward the door. “Brando, work with Niccolo. We need to get a handle on this.”
“Yes, we do,” Niccolo snarked as he left the room, snapping another clip of ammunition into his pistol.
“I’m not going anywhere with you,” she hissed, prepared to take another swing.
I caught her fist in midair, squeezing until her eyes opened wide from pain as well as surprise. “Listen to me, angel. You lost your choices the moment you stepped foot in the back of my club. We’re out of time here. You are coming with me.” I hustled her from the room, moving to an exit leading down three flights of stairs to a small protected garage. The place was a fortress, virtually impenetrable, weapons housed in several bunkers. We could survive almost any attack if necessary.
I’d positioned my Mercedes in the secure location. Whatever the hell Casimine and Filip were planning wouldn’t end well no matter how I played it.
The second I pushed her across the threshold, an explosion rocketed through the corridor, the force pitching us both into the stairwell.
“Get downstairs. Now!” I barked, quickly dragging Cassidy to her feet. She was stunned, her entire body trembling, her eyes unfocused.
“What is…”
“Just go. I’ll be right there.” I waited just long enough to see her head down the stairs.
The sharp staccato of gunfire was still from a distance, but it was only a matter of seconds before the bastards got inside.
Brando headed toward me, both hands on his weapon. The continued thumping of the massive speakers drowned out most of the sound, but I heard a series of footsteps, several men approaching. Whether they belong to me or someone else had yet to be determined.
“Get the hell out of here!” Brando huffed, pushing me backward.
Smoke billowed into the hallway, thick enough my eyes immediately watered. I shifted against the wall, pointing my weapon. A blast of gunfire forced me to drop and roll. As the haze started to clear, I got off two shots, the enemy soldiers dropping fast. Then the corridor was filled with several of my men.
I had no way of knowing whether Niccolo was dead or alive.
“Valentin. Get out!” Brando gave me a hard glare.
I backed away, the fury escalating. Fuck. How the hell had this gotten so damn out of hand? Then I slammed and locked the door, immediately racing down the stairs.
Whoever was responsible would pay. Soon they would face the wrath of the devil.