“I’ll kill him, Sloane,” Diego taunts, his voice so close it causes goose bumps to sprout on my arms. “I don’t care if Pablo wants the kid alive. I’ll kill him and make you watch.”
No one is hurting Elio. If I only get to do this one thing, I will make sure Elio is safe. A snap to my left spurs me into action, and I swing the branch, putting every ounce of strength I have into the motion.
Diego curses as the branch hits him, and he falters. His gun clatters to the ground. I move to kick it away, but his hand wraps around my ankle, and he tugs. Screams rip from my lungs as I end up in a tangled heap on the ground with the bastard. I kick out and swing my fists as he tries to grab me. We roll around for a few beats, and I lash out, kicking, screaming, and clawing at his mask. Pain skitters across my jaw when his fist connects with my face, momentarily stunning me. Climbing onto my legs, he pins me to the ground, flashing me a savage grin.
“You stupid whore.” He grabs my neck and squeezes as I attempt to reach my gun without him noticing. “You had one job, and you couldn’t even do that right. It’s your fault your mother is a dead bitch and El Rey changed the plan.” I try to buck him off, panicking as I struggle for air. My fingers find my jeans pocket and slip inside. “Killing DiPietro is too easy.” His fingers loosen a little as he brags about the new plan. “Taking his kid will torture him forever, especially when we groom him to be a cartel killer.” My finger curls around the trigger as I slowly slide my gun out. “Killing his whore is an added bonus,” he adds, retightening his fingers around my throat.
I shove the gun into his stomach and pull the trigger.
Diego’s eyes flare wide, and he releases me when his hands automatically gravitate to the bullet wound leaking blood from his gut. My hands shake as I shoot him in the stomach again and push him off me. “I’m not the one dying today.” I shoot him a third time for good measure, watching the blood pooling around him with sick satisfaction.
Then I remember Elio, and I shove my gun in my back pocket and take off running in the direction of the kiosk. Please be safe. Please be safe. Please be safe. I repeat it over and over as I run.
Excruciating pain rips through my calf, and I scream before face-planting the grass, eating a mouthful of dried leaves. Sobbing, I push off the ground, grab my gun, and sit up. Scooting around on my butt, I point my gun straight ahead, ready to fight to the bitter end, but there’s no one chasing me. The injury to my leg was Diego’s dying shot. He’s lying face down, unmoving, his arm outstretched with rigid fingers curled around his gun.
Ignoring the pain, I smother my sobs and stagger to my feet, hobbling toward the kiosk, praying I find Elio there.
38
CRISTIAN
“Ishould’ve listened to you,” Isa sobs, clinging to my arm and crying into my shoulder.
My head pounds, and I’m about done with all the drama. I left Sloane for this shit, just as she was about to confide in me. So, my patience is stretched thin. I want to be done with this so I can go home. My thoughts are not charitable, but I don’t care. Sloane and Elio come first, and I’m regretting not asking Dano to handle this when Isa called this morning, screaming hysterically, claiming her life was in imminent danger. “Isa, you need to stay in your seat. I’m trying to drive.” It takes effort to keep my tone soft and low, and my touch gentle, when I push her back into the passenger seat.
When she called earlier, Isa made it sound like Carmine was about to murder her. Except when I got to the small two-bedroom apartment she shares with her new husband, he was nowhere to be found, and Isa was a sobbing mess, pawing at me and begging me to save her. I’m not completely unsympathetic. That prick forced her home early from their honeymoon and then beat her bloody for no apparent reason. When that abuser shows his ugly face, I’m going to beat the shit out of him before throwing him in a cell at our interrogation center on Staten Island where he can stew for a few days before I decide what to do with him.
Isa called her parents from the privatemafiosohospital where Natalia tended to her injuries and administered a sexual assault kit. She has contusions everywhere, a split lip, a busted nose, and two cracked ribs.
“Are you sure you want to go back to the apartment?” I ask when we’re around the block from the building. “I can take you to your parents’ place and arrange for someone to pack your things. You don’t have to face him. I can handle it.”
“I want to be there when you kill him.” Vengeance burns in her eyes.
“I need to discuss the next steps with Dano, but you can watch me beat the bastard if that’ll help.”
“It will.” Removing a tissue from her purse, she blows her nose and straightens up. “Thank you, Cris.” She touches my arm as I drive into the underground parking lot. “Thank you so much for coming straight to me. It means a lot.”
“You’re family, and I hate men who hurt women.” Truth is, I did it for Elio mostly. He would want me to help his aunt.
After parking the car, I help her out, glancing at my watch as we walk across the parking lot, hating how I’ve lost most of the day. I haven’t had a chance to check in with Sloane since lunch, and I’m desperate to speak to her.
“He’s home.” Isa points to where Carmine’s black sedan is parked in a space in the corner.
“It’s okay to change your mind.” I slow my steps and face her. “Wait in the car, if you like.”
“I’m not changing my mind. I want to see the look on his face when he realizes how much trouble he’s in.”
Carmine is a goddamn fool, and he deserves everything coming his way.
* * *
“Carmine,” Isa roars when we enter the apartment. “Show yourself, you fucking coward!”
Eerie silence greets us, and my instincts kick in. I’m instantly on high alert. “Stay here,” I whisper as I take my gun out. Isa nods, covering her mouth with her hand, as I stealthily creep through the main living area to the bedrooms and bathrooms at the back, checking every room with my gun pointed and ready.
“Fuck,” I mutter to myself when I enter the main bedroom and discover Carmine slumped over the bed with his throat slit. Blood is fucking everywhere.
A scream almost bursts my eardrums when Isa appears in the doorway. So much for staying in the kitchen.
