The gunfire stopped. The wall blocked shots from the abandoned building. But I knew this cover wouldn't last.
Enzo's voice came from up front, urgent but strangely steady.
"Chloe. Listen. Stay in the car. Don't come out no matter what."
He pulled a gun from his waist and charged forward.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Enzo
At least three shooting positions.
Judging by the angle and spacing of the bullets, there was one at the left window on the second floor of the abandoned building, one on the right side of the third floor, and at least one more hiding at an entrance on the ground level. Crossfire covered every inch of a sixty-degree arc in front of the road. Classic ambush formation. Textbook Carmine Elite Squad layout.
I knew this setup too well. Twenty years ago, I was the one manning positions like these.
The low wall blocked their line of fire for now, but if they started repositioning to flank us, we had three, maybe four minutes tops.
I pulled out my phone and dialed Luca with one hand. He picked up on the first ring.
"Under attack. Road outside town, abandoned building location. At least three shooters, possibly a fourth. Get everyone here now."
"My men need fifteen minutes." Luca's voice was tight. "They just finished with another group Julian planted on the south side of town."
Fifteen minutes. Too long. Standard Elite Squad protocol was toclean up an ambush within three minutes. In fifteen minutes, backup would arrive to find nothing but an empty scene and three corpses.
"Make it fast." I hung up and shoved the phone back in my pocket.
Emily's wails tore through the back seat. Chloe's voice came through the darkness, tight with tears, telling her it was okay, mama's here. But her voice shook. Badly. In the rearview mirror, I caught her face—pale, lips pressed tight. She had Emily wrapped completely in her arms, body curved into a shell, her back toward the window. She was using herself as a shield.
The image sent a sharp pain through my chest. I couldn't let her get hurt for me again.
I couldn't leave them in this car. The wall only blocked frontal shots. Once the shooters adjusted their positions to flank us, this vehicle would become an iron coffin.
I checked my gun. Nine rounds. Add the twelve in the spare mag at my waist—twenty-one total. Against at least three professionally trained shooters, every shot had to count. No room for waste.
I turned to look at Chloe. She was pressed into the gap in the back seat, holding Emily, her face so pale it was almost transparent. Her eyes found mine in the darkness.
"Chloe. Listen to me. Stay in the car. Don't move. No matter what happens, don't come out."
I reached for the door handle.
Chloe grabbed my arm.
"You go out there, and you're dead. You're wounded."
She was worried about me.
In this moment, when a bullet could punch through her skull at any second, she was worried about my injuries. The realization detonated something hot in my chest, so hot my eyes stung.
I gripped her hand, then leaned forward and kissed her forehead. Her skin was ice cold, covered in a fine sheen of sweat. My lips stayed on her forehead for maybe two seconds. Possibly the most indulgent two seconds of my life.
"I promise you," I looked into her eyes, keeping my voice as steady as I could, "I'll protect you and Emily. And I'll come back alive."
I didn't know if I could do it. But I knew if I didn't say it, she wouldn't let go. And if she didn't let go, I couldn't get out. Then all three of us would die in this car.
Chloe's fingers released. I shoved the door open and rolled out.
