The message sent, another tap brought me to the home automation screen. I hadn’t had the chance to do much more with the security system besides the cameras and gate controls. The other automation controls still offered a chance for distraction. I needed them looking away from the door.
“Dimitri, is it?” Pirrello teased. “That’s why your father passed on you, you know. Women have such soft hearts. You’re already pining for the thug your father forced upon you. We could have worked together, taken him out so I could assume my rightful place at the head of the table.”
Pressed flush against the wall right next to the door, pistol in my right hand, phone in the left, I started the automation sequence. Inside, every light shut off. A moment later, the speakers in the kitchen sparked into life, vibrating and crackling distorted jazz. I’d set them to 11. How long until it destroyed the speakers?
I wasn’t about to wait and find out. My phone dropped back into my pocket and I twisted the door knob. Pirrello stood near Olivia, gun trained on her. Both of them stared toward the doorway to the kitchen. The man’s daughter stood with her back to me, watching the same place. The gun in her hand pointed toward the floor. Perfect.
Once I crept behind her, my fist slammed down on her hand. The grip of my pistol struck right where her gun met her hand, between her thumb and forefinger. She screamed out but it was too late. Her shiny silver little pistol thudded against the carpet.
My left arm slammed around her chest. The scream died in a gurgling gag. She’d lost her wind. Her father spun at the noise. Unfortunately, he snatched Olivia before he did. We stood on either side of the room, guns to the heads of the girls captured in our arms.
“I didn’t expect you so soon,” Pirrello yelled over the blaring distorted jazz.
He might have been speaking, but almost all my focus remained on Olivia. Even in her silence, those eyes of hers expressed a multitude of emotions. Guilt, fear and relief seemed to strobe through them, but I saw something more, something neither of us had spoken: love.
“My security team is already en route,” I barked out, eyes on Pirrello and the gun he held to Olivia’s neck. Halfway through, the speakers crackled and died, leaving my voice to echo in the silence. “They’re former SAS. You only have one chance to get out of here alive. Drop your gun and I’ll let you and your daughter walk away. But if I ever see you in Miami again, you’re a dead man.”
“A bluff,” Pirrello spat. “I have a counter offer. Try anything and I’ll put a bullet into your beloved bride’s brain. Let my daughter go.”
“You want me to let her go?” I asked, pushing the girl forward, deeper into the room.
My eyes met Olivia’s again. I tried to communicate what I wanted her to do in that brief moment. Hopefully, it would work out. The standoff wouldn’t.
Within six feet of where Pirrello held Olivia, I shoved Celeste to the side, head first into the wall. Her arms flailed but couldn’t stop her momentum. The moment her head slammed against it, she crumpled to the floor, toppling a small table as she did.
At the same moment, Olivia kicked her legs up. Holding all her weight, Pirrello stumbled forward before letting go of her. Before I could get a shot off he barreled over her and tumbled into me.
18
Olivia
That bastard Pirrello barreled into Dimitri. Both their guns thudded to the carpet. Dimitri had a size advantage, but Enrico took him by surprise. My potential rescuer fell backwards. His head knocked against the carpeted floor. He blinked rapidly after. Damnit, that could have been a concussion.
It slowed him either way. Pirrello got his hands around Dimitri’s neck. The older man sneered down at my husband, the veins on his neck bulging. One of Dimitri’s fists flew up at the man. Too slow, he ducked it, but the power behind it sent them rolling over the carpet.
Celeste lay unmoving a few feet in front of me, her pistol almost in reach. I scrambled forward on all fours until its cool metal slipped into my hand. By the time I turned to the men, Enrico had somehow got behind Dimitri. They lay on their sides. One of Enrico’s arms was cradled around the bigger man’s neck, held tight by the other.
Dimitri thrashed and tried to yank the arm away. He didn’t have the right angle. His eyes bulged, his face purple. The gun in my hand rose. He couldn’t speak, but he nodded, no fear at all.
My father might not have wanted me to be his heir, he knew the men wouldn’t respect a woman at the head of the table. That didn’t mean he hadn’t made sure I knew how to take care of myself. I’d spent hours and hours at the shooting range, but I’d never used those skills in a situation like this. If my aim was off by a millimeter, I’d kill Dimitri.
Seconds from succumbing to Enrico’s choke hold, Dimitri’s eyes held no fear. I’d lost my trust in him the moment Celeste had spun her lies, believed the worst about the man at the drop of a hat. Even now, he didn’t even flinch. He trusted me with his life completely. My father had been right about him.
The gun bucked in my hands. Enrico went slack, his bleeding head dropped below Dimitri’s. The big man sucked in a wheezing breath and scrambled to his feet. His stumbling steps closed the distance between us. One hand pushed my raised gun hand down.
“Oh thank God. I don’t know what I would have done if they’d killed you,” he babbled. “I love you.”
His words slurred but they fed the guilt inside me. He’d stayed true, even after he had to know I’d fallen into this situation myself, because I didn’t trust him. When his arms holding me tightly against him loosened, I pulled back to look him in the face.
He still blinked rapidly, fighting the effect of the concussion, but he wasn’t out of it. He meant every word he’d said. Oh, my father had been right, about everything… except his choice of consigliere.
“I love you too,” I replied.
His goofy grin only dropped when our lips pressed together.
Epilogue
Dimitri
