These assholes showing up like this was the last thing I would have expected.
While I reached for my gun, Oleg and the other two doing the same, it seemed like our training and extensive experience with tense situations like this didn’t matter.
Gunfire surrounded us. Chaos filled the atmosphere as agents and law enforcement officers bellowed orders to get us. Pandemonium ensued as the Rossis swarmed to retaliate. They had all their guards and soldiers on hand. Unlike how I’d shown up with only Oleg and two men, they had an outfit. This was on their turf, and true to their violent nature, they reacted defensively.
Shooting back. Entering into combat. Threatening war.
Every one of our families had to put up with the “law and order” of the citizens’ society. Their rules didn’t extend to us. We operated under our own system of justice.
And tonight would be no different.
Thrust into the ambush and depths of the fighting, I looked out for my men. For Oleg and the other two.
Family first, always. But getting out wasn’t so easy.
Helping the Rossis hold back the assault from the agents was expected too. We did our best, firing back, but in the end, after the rush of violence and panic, they retreated. They withdrew, escaping with their bulletproof vests and dragging theirwounded off the second floor patio. Contingencies must have been prepared, because they all fled with too much efficiency.
Smoke hung in the space we’d defended. Dust rose up from the destruction all over the place. Windows had been shattered. Tables were turned over and busted. Blood puddled in slick pools on the floor. A buzzing hum of a snapped wire for the lights sparked with a charge off to the side.
Catching my breath as more Rossis fled out into the night, pursuing the cops and agents, I scanned the room and took stock of the damage.
I was alive. Hit and enduring the stinging aches of fresh injuries, I dismissed that I’d gotten caught in the crossfire. Nothing was broken. Everything was still attached.
Oleg was bloodied up but still standing.
One of the Orlov men was leaking blood from an angry gash on his forehead. He winced and squinted as it streaked down. I paused to grab the handkerchief from my suit jacket and offered it to him. He took it without a word. The other man was limping as he assisted a wounded Rossi to sit down. He grimaced at a leg wound.
“What the fuck was that?” I demanded as the senior Rossi member shook his head, letting loose a long string of growled profanities as he took in the scene.
We were all stunned.
But I was annoyed too.
“Are you trying to fucking set me up?”
He snarled, approaching me. “Me? Me?” He stabbed his finger at his chest as he approached. “You think I asked you here to motherfucking set you up on my turf?”
No, that wouldn’t have made sense.
Oleg grabbed my sleeve. “They were gunning for them.”
The Rossi boss growled. “And they won’t succeed.” He kicked a broken chair nearby, venting his fury. Another litany of Italian curses filled the air. His men helped the wounded. My soldier pitched in as well. We all gathered ourselves in this collective aftermath.
“That fucking bastard.” The boss growled and paced, eyeing the ruins.
“Who?”
“Who?” He huffed, running his hand over his hair. It smeared the blood on his hand over his brow. “Who else? Only Giovanni would pull a fucking stunt like this.”
I understood his reasoning. Roberto Giovanni had been a thorn in my side too, interfering with our drug operations. He hadn’t been able to be one step ahead of us there anymore. Not since Emilio was taken out. Not since I’d killed the rat I’d found in my office when Yusuf had been snooping for that drug route map.
Giovanni was the sort of asshole to set up an ambush and sting like this. He was a bigger enemy of the Rossis than he was of the Orlov name.
Yet as I took stock of how we could get the hell out of here, I worried if I was being too quick to jump to any conclusions.
This screamed of a setup. But were the Rossis the target, or were we?
We stayed only long enough for me and the Rossi to communicate the need to reschedule. And to keep each other updated about the incident. He was fuming, too damn mad and far from calming down. I couldn’t blame him. I would feel the same if I’d asked him to my place and we’d been vulnerable to a sting and ambush like this.
