“He's got a fucking machine gun,” yells Viking. “Cover!”
Jesus fuck. I throw myself behind a pillar that seems way too fucking narrow as the bullet rain starts. The others find something to hide behind while we do our best not to get shot. Every so often, I stick a hand out and fire a shot, but the bullets are too close, whizzing by and pinging off the pillar.
Something tears at my shoulder, sending a fiery pain shooting through me. “Tagged me,” I yell through clenched teeth. I'm not going down, but it hurts like a motherfucker. “Is there anything we can do?”
“It's belt fed,” replies Viking. “Until he runs out or it jams, we're pinned.”
Fuck.
36
ALESSA
“Nicholas, is this really what you want to do?” It's not very dignified trying to argue from the floor, but I don't dare get up, either. Besides, until I can get Dad's gun, I'm better off staying where I am.
Nicholas doesn't respond, but I can tell from the set of his jaw that it’s not.
“Dario shot Dad.” I try not to sob when I say it. We've had our differences, but I don't want to lose him like I lost Mom. He’s still breathing, but so still that I doubt he's going to last long if he doesn't get help.
“Shut up, Alessa. I'm just doing my job here, okay?” But he keeps looking out the door, and for longer and longer each time. It sounds like a warzone out there, like a shootout on the fourth of July. I don't know who's winning, but if it really is the Screaming Eagles who've come for me, I think their chances are good.
And if I can get a hold of the gun, I’m not going to make the same mistake twice.
“Dario's starting a war inside the Family. Do you really think the Fabbris are going to come out on top with Dario calling the shots? Papa's had his eyes on you guys for a long time. The Giordanos will fight. The Romanos will fight. Heck, all the other families will fight you. If you let him get away with this, it’s over sooner rather than later.” Nicholas was always smarter than Dario, but Dario's ruthlessness landed him his position. Dario's nuts, but Nicholas might listen to reason.
“I'm setting up the gun,” yells Dario from out there. “Come over and help me, you morons.”
I don't know exactly what's going on out there, but it sounds like the guards in front of the door just left. So just Nicholas still here.
“You're going to lose, Nicholas. You know Family politics as well as I do. Do you really think you guys have a shot at taking over? At best, even if you manage to somehow take out the rest of the families, you'll be left with a husk of the old operation. Where's the profit in that?” I try to scoot just a little closer to the couch, putting Dad's pistol within reach.
Nicholas strides over and crouches next to me. I stop trying to move, terrified he’ll figure out what I’m going for. “You think I like listening to that idiot? Do you really think you’re the only person who knows he’s one bad day away from losing it completely? For fucks sake, woman, couldn’t you have kept from pissing him off for just a little while longer?”
“Then why—”
“Papa,” Dad whispers. “Call him.”
“Shhhh, don’t waste your energy,” I sob
Nicholas closes his eyes for a second and nods. “Stay here, stay down, and just try for once in your life to listen to what people tell you, all right? Fuck, with your attitude, you’re better off with the bikers. Pray or something if you can’t keep your mouth shut.” He puts a hand on Dad’s shoulder. “I’ll let them know.”
And then he’s gone.
Suddenly, the war has come a lot closer as some kind of massive gun starts firing right outside the door. What the hell is going on? Without Nicholas here, I slide Dad’s gun out from under the couch and clutch it to me, waiting. For what I’m not sure, but I’ll be ready.
There's a scream outside. Dario? Wherever Nicholas went, I hope he finds help because he seems like the only one here that might give it.
I hope I'm right, at least.
Then there's another scream, and I know it’s Dario. The rapid firing stops, and he comes stumbling in through the door. His shoulder's bleeding, and so is the side of his head. He's got his pistol out and looks around angrily. “Where the fuck is Nico?”
“I—I don’t know.”
He points his gun right at me as he stomps over. His eyes are wild, and the blood dripping down his forehead makes him look terrifying. He spots the gun and kicks it out of my hand. “Did you get to him, too? Get up.”