“Left!” he barked. Matteo obeyed instantly, tires screeching as they cut across the Piazza. Tourists scattered. Flashing lights, shouts, the sound of horns, but Enzo tuned it all out. His focus tunneled to the rhythm of pursuit.
A sharp pop echoed, one of the bike’s shots lodged in the dashboard. Matteo swore, ducking instinctively.
Enzo reached under his shirt, pulling his gun free. He twisted in the seat, braced himself against the doorframe, and fired back. The muzzle flash lit the interior for an instant. One shot clipped the bike’s front fender, sparking against metal.
The rider wobbled but corrected.
“Enzo!” Kathleen’s voice cracked as she pointed to the traffic snarl ahead.
“Turn left,” Enzo directed as he keyed his comm to tell his people where they were.
Static, then Danny’s voice came through the earpiece. “We see you, boss. Two blocks ahead.”
“Set the trap at the alley. It’s narrow enough to bottleneck them.”
“Understood.”
The car screeched off the bridge, barreling into the labyrinthine streets of the south riverbank. Milano blurred by in streaks of yellow light and shadow. Another gunshot cracked. Kathleen flinched but didn’t scream this time. Her hand gripped his arm, steady, defiant.
Matteo’s voice was tight. “They’re still gaining!”
“Keep going,” Enzo ordered. “They’ll have one shot at us, no more.”
They rounded a final corner, tires slipping on the wet stones. The back end of the car fishtailed with a sickening lurch, slowing their forward momentum. As Matteo cranked the wheel hard, Enzo spotted his men, two black SUVs positioned across the narrow mouth of an alley.
“Go straight through them,” Enzo said.
Matteo didn’t hesitate. The SUVs separated just enough to let their car squeeze through. Behind them, the motorcycles roared into view.
Enzo’s men swung out of cover, weapons drawn. The night erupted with gunfire. Muzzle flashes lit the alley like lightning. One of the bikers jerked and fell sideways. The motorcycle skidded, but the driver caught it and swerved, barely avoiding a wreck, and tore down a side street, disappearing into the maze.
Matteo slammed the brakes. The sedan skidded to a stop behind Enzo’s men. Smoke and dust hung heavy in the air.
Enzo opened his door and stepped out, gun still in hand. His pulse thundered in his ears. The smell of hot metal and gunpowder clung to the night. Danny approached.
“Clean the scene,” he ordered curtly. “Find out who they are.”
Kathleen sat frozen in the back seat, eyes wide but steady, watching him through the shattered glass.
He met her gaze across the chaos. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Then he holstered his weapon and exhaled.
“They’re not done,” he said quietly. “Whoever sent them—they’ll come again.” His gut roiled. He knew that this was only the beginning. Whatever the hell Kathleen had inadvertently gotten involved in had the power to kill them all.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
As he entered the house, Enzo was livid with himself for agreeing to allow Kathleen to go with him. His heart had almost stopped beating due to the amount of danger she’d been in. He should have insisted that she stay behind. He would never get over it if something happened to her. Not just because her brother was his close friend, but because he would be the one who was responsible, and that would crush him.
He turned to her. “If you need anything, just ask Aldo. He’ll help you.”
“Wait! Where are you going to go? What are you going to do?” she demanded, hands fisted on her hips.
“I can’t—” He couldn’t tell her he needed distance from her. He needed space to get his equilibrium back and to get his rage at what happened under control. “I have to make some phone calls in my office.” He relented somewhat. “I know that must have been scary as hell for you, but in about ten minutes, the adrenaline will drain from your body, and you will feel exhausted. And then the aches and pains will start. You got thrown around the car pretty good. Go take a hot shower and maybe have a glass of wine. You’ll feel much better afterward.”
She looked like she was about to argue with him. “Is that the voice of experience talking, or are you just trying to get rid of me?”
He ground his teeth to keep from telling her how terrified he’d been on her behalf. “A bit of both. The calls I have to make, Kathleen, you do not want to be a party to. You need plausible deniability.”
She frowned but nodded. “You’ll tell me what happens?”
