I have a feeling luck is on my side for a change because earlier Rosie spotted the Mooney brothers’ yacht docking in Miami. The instant she notified me, I got on the private jet, and after the three and a half hours flight, we landed in an airfield just outside the city.
The fuckers have been sailing around the coastline, doing their best to avoid me, so this might be my chance I get to end the seven-year war.
I want them dead so I can focus on Sienna.
Once I put James and Charlie Mooney in the ground, I’m marrying my woman.
Even if I have to force her.
My thoughts are inundated with Sienna as Nico brings the SUV to a stop by the docks, and I listen as the engine drops to idle before cutting out.
I only brought Hugo and Nathan along for backup. The four of us open our doors at the same time, getting out while on high alert and weapons ready.
The night air is surprisingly cool for this time of year as my eyes scan over our surroundings. The sound of water lapping against the docks gets my attention while we make sure the immediate area is clear.
Nico keeps his MP5 aimed at the ground, and Hugo flanks us, machine gun ready in his grip. Nathan hangs a few steps back to cover our backs.
As we move forward, Nico remains half a step behind me, so he’s close enough to react immediately should shit go sideways.
All my attention is on the yacht at the end of the pier. It’s large and luxurious, with three decks, polished chrome rails, and dark-tinted windows. Two armed men stand near the stern, smoking while having a conversation instead of paying attention to their surroundings.
One of them glances in our direction and startles so badly, he fumbles with his gun. Hugo reacts instantly, firing a shot that takes out the guard. The second man brings up his weapon, but Nico drops his ass on the deck with a bullet to the head.
“Stupid fuckers,” I growl, which earns me a chuckle from Nico.
With the shots giving our surprise attack away, we rush forward, boarding the yacht as quickly as possible. Hugo keeps his attention on the deck above, and Nathan remains on the pier, making sure we’re not ambushed from behind.
My heartbeat is steady as Nico, and I enter the main cabin, the luxurious space furnished with cream leather seats lining the walls. I notice a bar littered with glasses, half-full bottles of whiskey, and plates containing leftover food.
Suddenly, a third guard storms in from the corridor, which probably leads to the cabins, and as he raises his weapon, his eyes widen when he recognizes me. “Fuuuuck! It’s Falco!”
I pull the trigger of my semi-automatic machine gun and watch as the bullets riddle his body, throwing him backward against a wall. He slides down, leaving blood smears on the white paint.
James Mooney lunges from behind the bar with Angus and Peter, their personal bodyguards, right behind him.
There’s no sign of Charlie, who’s the head of their operation. I’ll be fucking upset if he’s not here.
Everyone starts shooting, the gunfire loud and the air smelling like sulfur. Nico takes out Peter, while Hugo tackles Angus. I duck and roll to avoid getting my ass shot up and manage to bury two bullets in James. One hits his shoulder and the other his abdomen, making him fall back against the bar counter.
Glass and bottles crash to the floor as he goes down hard, letting out a shout of frustration and pain.
Nico shoots Angus in the back of his head, and as his blood splatters over Hugo’s face, he snaps, “I had him.”
Before Nico can respond, Charlie emerges from the corridor, holding a gun ready in one hand and a knife in his other.
I gesture for Nico and Hugo to stand down and meet the fucker’s eyes. “Time’s up, Mooney.”
Seething with anger, he’s barely able to talk as he hisses, “Mother-fucking Sicilian scum.” Dropping his gun, he charges at me.
Just as I jump back, the blade of his knife slices across my forearm. The pain is sharp and welcoming, and letting out a dark chuckle, I grab his wrist before he can pull back. Yanking him closer, I drive my knee into his stomach and watch how he folds in two like a chair. Before he can drop, I grip him by his throat, and keeping him standing, I headbutt him.
The crack of his nose breaking is music to my ears, and as blood starts running from his nostrils, he swings at me again, catching me across the ribs with his knife.
I throw my entire body into his, shoving him up against a wall where his brother is trying to drag his body out of the way. With years' worth of rage and hate clouding my vision, I begin to beat the fuck out of him until his legs give out and he drops to one knee, breathing hard and struggling to stay upright.
From the corner of my eye, I see James crawling across the floor, trying to reach Charlie’s gun, but Hugo finishes the fucker with a single shot to the head.
Charlie’s eyes widen at the sight of his brother dying. He spits blood from his mouth and tries to speak, but I’ve had enough. Pulling my Glock from behind my back, I shoot the bastard twice in the chest. He falls forward, grabbing hold of my right leg before tumbling to the side.
