“I am not!” I hear Cruz shout in the background, and my lips curl into a smile. I hang up and get my mind focused on the task at hand, peeking out to see what’s happening.
Bullets are flying everywhere, ricocheting off the metal containers or drilling holes into the dockmaster’s wooden office building. My heart jumps into my throat when I see the crane operator hanging off the side, aiming for Kian. He’s currently got one of Vincenzo’s men in a headlock, slowly choking the life out of him, while Francis and Andy are trading shots with three others.
Racing out from behind the containers, I tear the RPG-7 off my back. Falling to one knee, I ignore the sharp sting of the cement as my knee hits it. Taking careful aim, I let it fly, adrenaline pumping through my system as I watch the grenade make a direct hit. The operator, or what’s left of him, falls from the sky, and I jump to my feet, fist bumping the air before turning back to the others.
Excitement sings through my veins as I toss the RPG-7 on the ground and pull out a gun. Blowing away the man who was coming up behind Kian, I raise my thumb to him when he nods his thanks. We both duck as bullets fly over our heads, then Andy’s voice comes over the comms. “Francis is down!”
Kian and I scramble to help, finding them holed up behind a stack of crates. I curse as I make out Francis’s legs poking out from beside Andy, still and lifeless.
Two of Vincenzo’s men lie dead on the ground, making the body count six. Two more are shooting at Andy, having not heard us approaching from the back. That leaves one more—where is he?
Kian quickly takes out the two remaining men. He and Andy rush to help Francis, while I call Jase again. “Can you see him?” I shout down the phone, not letting him even say hello. I crane my neck, looking everywhere, but can’t see the fucker. If he got away …
“Just a second.” I hear the sound of a keyboard clattering away, then silence.
“Jase!”
“I’ve called for backup. Someone’s coming to collect Francis, and another driver is on the way to take Francis’s place.” I hear him mutter under his breath as he searches the cameras for the missing man. “Okay, got him. Go left about twenty feet.”
Jase directs me through the maze of containers, leading me toward the final man. I just have to hope that he hasn’t called Vincenzo. When I find him, he’s crouched low, phone in hand. Fuck this. He glances up and catches sight of me racing toward him. I can see in his eyes that he recognizes it’s too late for him, just before he falls back, blood gushing from the wounds in his throat and chest made by my gun.
Coming to a stop in front of him, I watch dispassionately as he chokes and gurgles on the dark blood spilling from his mouth. I lift my visor, my lip curling into a sneer as he recognizes his executioner. Then, without further thought, I step forward, watching the light leave his eyes as I crush his throat beneath my boot.
Chapter 41
Vincenzo
Standinginfrontofthe full-length mirror in my bedroom, I straighten my black tie, then run a comb through my hair. Turning around, I scoop my black Armani suit jacket off the Louis XIV chair, shrugging it on. With one backward glance, I leave the room, closing the door quietly behind me. I jog down the stairs, finding Cesare waiting at the bottom for me.
“Have you implemented the additional security measures I requested?”
His brows lower. Cesare doesn’t like it when I question him in such a manner. He finds it disrespectful. I find it necessary. “Of course. Armed guards will surround the church, and snipers are in place on surrounding rooftops.”
“And the cemetery?”
“I’ve done the best we can. There isn’t a lot of cover, but I’ve hidden snipers amongst bushes, in a couple of trees, and behind a couple of the bigger monuments. Your loyal supporters will all be carrying and have received instructions to shoot on sight if Daniella makes an appearance.”
Nodding my thanks, we head out the door and down the stairs. At least the weather is good, standing outside in a storm would have been miserable. That would be just like Dante though … letting me down both in death and beyond. Blowing out a deep sigh, I wearily climb into the limo with Cesare and Dino, Alvise, and Elena—Dante’s three children.
My nephews and niece sit quietly, staring at their phones as if they hold the answers to the world’s problems. None of them seem distraught over their father’s death, but I shouldn’t be surprised, it’s not as if they saw him often. Unfortunately, their blasé attitude isn’t going to cut it.
Slapping my hand on the door, the three of them jump, glancing up nervously at me. I keep my face impassive, but I’m chuckling on the inside at their reactions. Little fuckers. Why it’s fallen on my shoulders to feed and take care of them is beyond me.
“You will show the proper grief today. I deserve that much respect from the three of you. We are a united family, and we will show that to the world. You are Gianellis, and you will act like it. If you disappoint me, I’ll send you to spend a week in Cesare’s basement. Are we clear?”
“Yes, sir,” Alvise answers as the eldest. Elena nods nervously, her eyes briefly meeting mine before flickering away. Dino just hunches his shoulders, staring into his lap.
Rolling my eyes, I pull out two cigars, offering one to my brother. We talk quietly during the drive to the church, ignoring the children’s coughing. They’re such dramatic little shits.
Some days I wonder why I bother keeping any of them around. Alvise and my other older nephews are useful, I suppose. Not enough backbone, the lot of them. But when it comes to jobs I don’t want to risk Cesare doing, I can send them. They’re expendable. And the girls might come in useful one day, should I find a match that will further my power.
The old anger ignites a flame in my gut, and I clench my fist. Puffing on my cigar, I look out the window, watching as the monolithic buildings of Manhattan spin past me. My brothers had all these children, and I? I only got one. And what a fucking disappointment she turned out to be.
It’s her mother’s fault, the bitch. When Daniella was only a toddler, I paid one of my nightly visits to Eilidh. Not knowing that one of the maids, feeling sorry for her, had slipped her a knife. When I climbed on top of her, eager to take her—as was my given right!—one flick of that knife cost me the ability to sire more children.
Eilidh spent nearly a month recovering from the well-deserved beating I gave her, and once I had healed, I had gone into her room at least once a day and forced her to take my cock. But no matter how much anger I poured into her, it could never bring me back the ability to have more children. My dream of creating an empire was over, and that cunt is to blame.
Like mother, like daughter. Daniella’s become a fucking thorn in my side, making me chase my tail like a trained circus monkey just to keep ahead of her. Stubbing the cigar out in the ashtray, I clench my teeth.
