It was not his fault that when a bullet whizzed past his ear, close enough he was sure he felt a warm, sticky trickle of blood roll down the side of his face, he responded by pivoting toward the shooter and movingcloser. He made sure to empty what remained of his current clip into the dumbass’s body, of course, and he finished it by towering over the slumped, bullet-riddled figure and popping the final one into the traitor’s skull. It was messy as shit. It was what the no-good rat-fuck deserved.
It was what they’d all get by the time Santino was done with them. Their blood and brains splattered on a wall and their useless husks crumbled at his feet.Fucking poetry.
But later. After he found his woman, scooped her gently into his arms, and rushed her somewhere safe and warm. After he’d had time to kiss away her pain, after she’d had time to release her fear in whatever kind of outlet she needed. He’d buy her all the exercise equipment she wanted if that was her preferred therapy. He’d buy her a goddamn gym, for her exclusive use, and he’d decorate it with chrysanthemum displays.
Santino pilfered the gun and visible spare clip from the dead rat, tucked away his pistol, and resumed his trek into the building. From the outside, it was single-story, but Mikey had said the digital record showed a basement. No telling what condition the basement was in, but Santino would bet his fortune that was where she was.I’m coming, beautiful.
No matter whose blood he had to wade through along the way.
One or five bodies later, as yet more gunfire exploded through the air behind him, Santino finally spotted the door he was looking for. Closed, unassuming, unguarded, and exactly where the Mikey’s direction had said the basement entrance would be. He took a moment to reload so that he could be as ready as possible. Arguably, he should have waited for Armando or Ciro or any available man to breach with him—but he wasn’t so patient.
It was in that beat of silence, as the gunfire ceased once more and before he’d pulled open the door, that Santino heard the sound that gutted him. A woman’s scream. Muted, muffled, almost indiscernible, but most definitely coming from the door immediately in front of him.
There was no way it could be anyone other than his Reiko.
Foreign desperation surged through him like an electric currant, his entire body responding without conscious thought, and Santino damn near ripped the door off its hinges as he threw himself across the threshold. It was not his smartest, most calculated strategy. He wasn’t thinking about stairs—or footing in general—and as stupid as that was, it also saved him a bullet to the face when his rushed, leaping movement caused his heel to glide off the edge of a step. Fast reflexes enabled him to twist enough to grab hold of the banister so he could crash onto his knees before he’d fully processed the gunfire. Then he threw himself in reverse, sideways down another step and back to thewall, bringing his own gun up as he swept his focus outward and down into the half-lit space.
From what he could tell, the basement was divided into multiple rooms, but it opened into one large area that was shaped like two off-set boxes. And aside from dividing walls and fluorescent lighting, it wasn’t what anyone would call “finished.”
Santino dismissed all of that as quickly as he noted it, fired wide in Danilo’s direction to get his bastard of a cousin to stop squeezing the fucking trigger, and as soon as he was clear he launched himself down the remaining steps. “Danilo! What the goddamn fuck do you think you’re doing?”
He could barely hear his own words, despite that he knew he’d screamed them, because he’d finally spotted her. His beautiful, suffering Reiko.
She lay on the ground, just inches from the farthest side wall, was on top of a dark tarp. Her body was positioned on her side and she was bound exactly as she’d been in the photo. She may not have moved at all since that picture had been taken.
Standing roughly between them with a Glock in hand, a knife sheathed at his thigh, and a terrible curve on his lips was Santino’s own flesh and blood. His cousin, Danilo Segreti. Danilo waved his gun with a casual roll of his wrist, not unlike the way his mother used to gesture with the spatula when she ranted while she cooked. “You know ‘what’. This is exactly what it looks like, exactly what it feels like.” He swung the barrel of his gun in Reiko’s direction and held it steady. “I’m taking the control that should always have been mine,cousin. Kick your guns aside and get on your fucking knees, or your little bitch never sees the sun again. You die either way, so it’s up to you.”
She was breathing. Her chest heaved and her nostrils flared as she sucked in breaths through her nose, the only way she could with that fucking gag in her mouth, and for as much as Santino hated it, he also loved it. Because from a distance, he hadn’tbeen able to see those small details. This close, at least, he could see she was alive. No matter how uncomfortable or panicked, she was alive. And the way her toes kept clenching and wiggling suggested she was conscious—conscious and listening, because that was all that had been left to her.
Hang on, baby.He wanted to tell her he would have her free in a moment, but he couldn’t risk Danilo pulling the trigger. And there was no doubt in Santino’s mind his bastard cousin would do it.
Santino met Danilo’s hard stare and made a show of moving his hand away from the trigger of the weapon he held. He lowered as gently as he needed to, and then, with equal care, set down his usual piece. He stood in place, hands raised as if he were under arrest, shifted his weight, and with one sweep of his leg kicked both guns out of reach. He made sure they slid in a direction neither of them could reach without turning their backs on the other.
Danilo raised both brows and dipped his chin as if Santino had forgotten the next part. “Knees, you worthless monkey.”
Santino couldn’t help the way his head tilted. Frankly, his knees still hurt from crashing onto them earlier. “Monkey? We share blood, Danilo.”
Danilo’s lip curled. “And supposedly we’re all descended from apes. Don’t try any stalling bullshit with me, Tino. Knees, or she gets a new hole.”
Santino clenched his jaw, forcing his body to move downward instead of forward at Danilo’s words. “You’re right, I am stalling. I keep hoping you’ll come to your senses and realize that blowing up the family like this will never win you the throne you crave.” That was a lie, of course. He no longer gave a shit what Danilo did or did not understand. He just needed that gun aimed literally anywhere else.
“Iwas the first heir,” Danilo said, as if the knowledge of him being older than Santino and also male was some kind of revelation. “But then Nonno’s favorite had to go and give him a boy. And everything that was supposed to be mine was ripped away.” He took a step closer and finally swung the Glock forward, arm slightly raised and index finger tapping a rhythm to his words. “Just.”Tap.“Like.”Tap.“That.”Tap.
Danilo stretched out his arm, bringing it down as if in slow-motion.
Santino launched upward.
Danilo’s arm cracked against Santino’s shoulder, the gun exploded at his ear, and he was blissfully—if only temporarily—deaf to the next round of vile stupidity that spewed from Danilo’s lips. Santino swiftly twisted his own arm up and over Danilo’s, locking Danilo’s position before his cousin could move to threaten Reiko again.
The choice threw them into a stumbling, cursing wrestling match over the gun Danilo refused to drop. Instead, Danilo attempted to use his other fist to land hard blows on Santino’s body, aiming mostly for Santino’s head. But he’d never been the fighter Santino was. Santino had the advantage in hand-to-hand and they both knew it. He was bigger, he was scrappier, and he spent more time actually honing his skill, whereas Danilo preferred weapons.
Which meant Danilo had stepped proverbially into Santino’s domain by shifting the focus of his exertion, and that was a mistake he wouldn’t be able to walk back.
Santino allowed Danilo a calculated movement that pulled Danilo’s momentum too far from center, and in the next heartbeat he pivoted, knocking Danilo’s feet fully from under him at the same time that he twisted Danilo’s gun arm too sharply the wrong way. All while making sure the weapon remained aimed entirely toward the heart of the basement. Theabsolute last thing he intended to do was allow that or any other gun to endanger Reiko again.
Danilo let out a choked cry of pain, visibly gritting his teeth as his nostrils flared and he attempted to wrench himself free. He finally thought to reach for his knife.
Santino released the broken arm in favor of delivering a solid punch to his cousin’s face, hard enough to throw Danilo backward.
