“Bennett.” Don Maltese and Don DiPietro approach from between parked cars, trailed by a bunch of armedsoldati. They are aware of our plans, and we have their full support. They are disgusted with the dishonorable conduct of Don Greco and Don Accardi, and it didn’t take much to win their agreement.
The Maltese heir must already be in the building, having previously been confirmed as an appointed aide by The Commission. I’m sure Gino hates having a spy in his midst, and no doubt he has plans to get rid of him at the first available opportunity.
Maltese and DiPietro have become good friends and colleagues in recent times. If anything good has come out of the past few months, it’s the strengthening of ties between our three families.
The three dons shake hands, and Maltese and DiPietro congratulate Natalia and me on our wedding.
“Are you ready?” Don DiPietro asks.
“Yes.” Ben nods. “Let’s do this.”
We stride toward the entrance as a united group, and every made man is on alert, watching all angles as we approach the double doors.
The doors swing open, and Gino appears, dragging Marcella with him, flanked by four of his New York men. “What the hell took so long?” he snaps, looking on edge as he glances around.
“Watch your tone,” Ben coolly replies, coming to a halt a few feet in front of him.
I shoot daggers at Marcella Toscana as she blatantly looks Natalia up and down with a derisory sneer on her face. Natalia smiles at her without a care in the world, leaning in and kissing me on the cheek. I hold her hand tighter and pull her in close, as my protective instincts ramp up.
Gino glares at us. He knows now that Nat tricked him into the quickie divorce, and he clearly hates being outsmarted by a woman. A woman he underestimated for years. Temporarily shaking off his loathing, he returns his attention to Ben. “Everyone is inside. Let’s get this started.”
“This is for DeLuca!” a man with a gruff voice shouts out, and all the hairs lift on the back of my neck. I shove Natalia behind my back as I withdraw my gun, glancing all around. Every other made man has their weapons out and eyes peeled as we try to locate the source of the voice.
Two shots ring out in quick succession, whizzing over our heads. “We don’t recognize you as our don,” a different man hollers as more shots are fired. From the elevation, I’m guessing the shooters are perched high in the trees, giving them a perfect vantage point.
We need to get the fuck out of here now.
“Get back to the cars!” Ben shouts, ducking down as bullets fly past him, embedding in Gino’s chest and his fiancée’s forehead. Gino roars as Marcella slumps to the ground, dead upon impact. More shots are fired, riddling his body with bullets, and it’s game over for Accardi. Gino’ssoldatiopen fire as shots go off inside the building before men from The Outfit spill out of the doors.
Everyone in our party starts shooting, oursoldatiinstantly shielding the three dons. Brando rushes to me, firing in the direction of the woods where unknown men are shooting at us. “I’ll take Nat,” he says. “Alesso is grabbing the twins.”
“We’ll cover you,” Ben says, firing with weapons in both hands. Shots are coming at us from two sides now, and the odds aren’t looking good.
Caleb spins around, coolly shooting a guy sneaking up on us from the side of the building. His brother is holding his own too, firing his gun at the enemy with an unnatural confidence that belies his age and his usual sensitive manner. Guess it’s in their blood, and it’s the one part of their upbringing where Gino wasn’t remiss.
While we’re distracted, Nat kicks off her shoes and takes off running toward our cars. “Go after her!” I scream at Brando while firing my weapon at the soldiers approaching from the front door.
A deafening explosion rips through the air, and the ground shakes, rippling and buckling like an earthquake has just hit. The soldiers close to the front of the building are thrown through the air as the structure ignites in a giant fireball that mushrooms high into the sky.
Screeching tires reverberate in my ears as our two SUVs pull up alongside us. More men are emerging from the trees on foot, and we need to get the fuck out of Dodge. It’s clear their intention is to kill every don in the US.
“Get in,” Nat screams through the lowered driver-side window. Brando hops out of the second vehicle and grabs a shell-shocked Caleb and Joshua while Ciro and Nario grab Ben and Maltese. DiPietro is on the ground with blood pumping out of his leg.
“Cover me,” I yell, at no one in particular, while I crawl to DiPietro and drag him with me. He’s got to be in pain, but he grits his teeth and bears it.
We all scramble into the cars, and Brando and Nat floor it out of there, veering left and right to avoid the shots chasing us, until we are out of range. Nat pulls over to let Ciro behind the wheel. She immediately climbs into the back to be with her sons and to attend to Don DiPietro’s injury. Then we floor it in the direction of the airport, and if I never see Chicago again, I will welcome it.
Epilogue
LEO
It’s been two weeks since the bloodbath in the Windy City, and everyone is still reeling. “How did it go?” I ask Ben as he walks into his office after attending another emergency sitting of The Commission.
“Same shitshow as the last time.”
“Fuck.”
“What the hell am I expected to do with this?” He walks to his liquor cabinet, pouring drinks.
