Alexis reaches up and holds my face in her hands, dragging my chin down to look at her. “You will not say goodbye, Gabriel Bellucci, because you will make sure you return home safely. You will come back to your family.”
She wrenches me closer and leans up on her tiptoes before I have a chance to respond. Her kiss is wild, passionate. Aggressive. It is a kiss that reminds me of exactly who I belong to, and who I am beholden to.
It’s the kiss of a queen.
“Eeny, meeny, miny, mo,” Dom says, pointing between the three warehouses on the map spread between us. “Where to start?”
Dom, Antonio, and I are parked just outside of the Irish docks territory. Three dozen men are awaiting my command, and I don’t hesitate to give it.
“He’s in the middle one,” I say, pointing to the corresponding building on the map. “I’m sure of it.”
Kevin Lynch is a coward. He would want to be at the very center of the territory, surrounded by protection.
“I want us in, and then I want us out,” I instruct. “As soon as we have eyes on Lynch, he’s our priority. I want to bring him back to the mansion for questioning, so keep him alive.”
Dom and Antonio nod in agreement, and take out their phones to send these orders down the chain of command. I check the clip on my semiautomatic rifle while they do, even though I’ve checked it four times already. We need this win. If Lynch slips through our fingers again, we may never catch him.
Orders delivered, we press forward. My pulse thrums. I can feel the vein in my neck throbbing, and my forehead prickles with sweat.
Everything seems to go in slow motion at first as our convoy crawls through the empty dockyard, headlights off, the only source of light from the dim lamps that reflect in the puddles on the concrete.
We stop outside of the warehouse I pointed to on the map. From the outside, it looks empty. Quiet. At least for a moment.
Chaos erupts in the air around us then, and we are no longer in slow motion. Lynch’s men start to shoot at us from what seems like every direction. They are on the rooftops. Streaming out of the warehouse’s yawning front door.
We pile out of our SUVs and return fire. I expected them to be ready. Their lookout at the entrance of the dockyard was anything but discreet in his frantic radioing, and I’m not stupid enough to think that we could actually catch them wholly by surprise. But that’s okay. We came here to fight, not to sneak. And it’s going to be one hell of a fight.
Dom and Antonio flank me as we approach the middle building with a handful of men. Dom and Antonio shoot at the surrounding rooftops while I take out the two men firing from just inside the warehouse door. I shoot one in the head, but the other I only manage to clip in the shoulder. Nevertheless, he stops shooting. Another takes his place, but there is nowhere to take cover, so I shoot relentlessly to keep him from firing back.
“Fuck!” Antonio hisses.
I look over, and he is holding his shoulder, red blooming beneath his hand. “Can you still shoot?” I ask.
“Try and fucking stop me,” he roars, more to our Irish assailants than to me. He manages to hit one of the men on the roof of the building to our left, and his body falls to the cement with a sickening thump.
We keep pressing forward. We’re nearly at the door to the warehouse now, and the thug who was firing at us from just inside makes a hasty retreat. I know that once we get inside the door, there will be more waiting for us. This fight is far from over.
“Spread out,” I order. “Dom, did you bring what I asked?”
Dom pulls the grenade out of his pocket with a wicked grin. “Of course I did. It’s rude to show up to someone’s house without bringing a gift for the host.”
I laugh. “Well, then. I think it’s time for you to do the polite thing and deliver your present.” I make a hand gesture to the rest of the men outside, warning them to hold back for a moment.
Dom pulls the pin from the grenade and chucks it into the open warehouse door. We duck down, hands over our ears. The explosion nearly knocks me on my ass. Heat floods out of the warehouse, and from inside, there is a cacophony of screams and groans.
“Go!” I yell.
We flood into the building while its occupants are still reeling from the explosion. Gunshots crack through the air as we take out one after another, after another. A couple of my men fall down and don’t get back up again, and that only makes me more savage in the delivery of my justice.
“Come with me,” I say to Dom. “We’re going to find Lynch.” To Antonio, I yell, “Cover us!”
Dom and I slip through the carnage, down a row of crates, and then finally to the set of offices at the end of the warehouse. It’s quieter back here, but I don’t let that fool me. If Lynch is back here, he’s protected.
Dom tries the first door, but it’s locked. He launches his stocky form against it until the lock breaks, and the door swings open. A shot rings out from inside, and Dom crumples in the doorway, hissing in pain, before angling his gun and shooting at the person inside.
I press my back to the wall next to the frame and grab Dom’s arm, tugging him out of danger.
“There’s two in there,” he murmurs, squeezing his eyes shut in pain. They shot him in the leg. “I think one’s Lynch.”
My heart picks up. This could be it.
“Can you get up?” I ask quickly, knowing that any second now, one of the assailants will come out to finish the job.
Dom shakes his head. “I’ll shuffle into the door and cover you though.”
“You’ll be a sitting duck,” I argue.
He takes a breath, nostrils flaring. His mud-brown eyes meet mine. “Better me than you.” He starts to drag himself into the doorway before I can say anything else, and I know I have to act quick, or my capo will be dead.
I dart into the room just as one of the men inside takes a shot at Dom. He roars with pain, and the sound is like nails on a chalkboard.
I take quick stock of the situation. There are two men, just like Dom said. One is standing at the back wall, gun drawn. He’s the one who shot Dom. The other I immediately recognize as Kevin Lynch, despite half of his face being obscured by the desk he is crouched behind. Fucking coward.
I duck and charge the standing gunman, who fires at me but misses. I slam him into the wall behind the desk and start to wrestle the gun from his hand. He’s smaller than me, but his movements are quick, and he manages to slide out of my grasp before I can get the gun.
I turn and aim, but notice Kevin raise his arm in the periphery of my vision. Shit. I swing around and shoot, hoping to hit him in the arm. No such luck. Blood spurts from the wound in his throat.
I hear another gunshot, and when I look over, the other gunman has fallen to the floor, dead. Dom groans and lets his hand fall to the side. His face is ashen. I need to get him help, but if I leave Lynch, he will die before I get a chance to question him. I have to think quickly.
Lynch is sputtering, facedown on the floor. I flip him onto his back and press the heel of my foot against his neck.
“Tell me if it’s true,” I demand. My voice comes out wild and desperate. I’m running out of time, and we both know it.
Lynch coughs, black blood staining his lips. I can only see the whites of his eyes. “Is what true?” he croaks.