Later that night, dressed in full combat gear, I stand with my back against the side of a house in Newark, Delaware. Miff takes the lead, while Reacher guards behind me. The neighboring house had already been swept—no room for curious eyes with what we were about to do.
My phone vibrates inside the pocket of my dark cargo pants. To anyone watching nearby, we’d look like a SWAT team.
Holding my Glock close to the side of my face, I press the earpiece lightly with my other gloved hand. “Hello, grandfather. How’s everything going?” I whisper.
“Nico, I just wanted to update you on what’s happening in Italy.” He doesn’t wait for me to respond and keeps talking.
“Fia and I have sort of picked up where we left off years ago. I didn’t lie to her. I told her the truth. I want to spend time with her, and I also let her know my grandson is worried about Serenity. She was apprehensive at first, but she’s agreed to meet with you tomorrow at four p.m. At a little cafe near the most popular local produce market in the heart of Florence,” he concludes.
“Thank you, grandfather.”
“It’s no problem. I feel youthful. Oh, and one more thing.”
“Yes?”
“Keep it clean, Nico.”
A devilish grin lifts my cheeks. “I will.”
I tap the earpiece to disconnect the call, then tap it twice to loop in my team. “We’re moving in,” I announce.
My head has to be in the game when we enter the house. Grandfather knows the plan. I’m sure he provided that information when he did to give me extra motivation.
Hunched over, we dash toward the back of the house. My grandfather’s men—Fabio, Gavin, Henson, and Brett—had already taken out the guards patrolling the perimeter.
At the back door, Miff lifts his fist, signaling us to stop. We pull our gas masks over our faces. Without hesitation, Miff smashes his elbow through the windowpane and hurls a tear gas canister inside.
Gunfire erupts immediately. Bullets slam into the kitchen window above, shattering glass that rains down around us.
Miff raises his AR-15 to eye level, firing back. He kicks the door hard with his boot. We move inside. The shooter liessprawled on the floor, motionless, eyes wide open. I veer right, vision blurred by the thick tear gas. A figure emerges in the hallway, coughing and shielding his nose with his arm. He fires. I shoot back; rounds punch into my bulletproof vest. Staggering, I ignore the searing heat beneath. I empty my clip into the bastard as I advance. He collapses, his Glock clattering onto the wooden floor. I kick it away. “Two down so far,” I report into the earpiece.
Miff and Reacher step into the living room. A few men cough while waving their weapons aimlessly. With my silencer attached, I line up each shot, dropping them one by one with precise headshots. Still, none of these men are the targets I’m looking for.
“Fabio and Gavin, clear the lower floor,” I order. “We’ll take the top.”
“On it,” they reply, one after the other.
Miff, Reacher, and I creep upstairs, moving cautiously. Miff raises his weapon, aiming at the door ahead. We each take a position by a door. I slam my boot into the door on my left, throwing it open—nothing inside. Bullets rip through the bed, the closet, and even the bathroom walls. Rather than opening the closet door, I unleash a barrage of fire. Once I’m sure anyone inside is down, I fling the closet door open. It’s empty.
I yank the mattress off the frame and spot a trapdoor beneath. “Very clever.”
I holster my Glock and grab the AR-15 slung across my body. I fire two shots at each corner of the bed before leaping onto it. I yank open the trapdoor, but lose my balance and fall to the floor. A figure bursts from the hole, firing wildly. He hasn’t spotted me yet. His gaze sweeps the room then lock on me. My heart pounds. Our weapons raise simultaneously. We fire at once. Sliding right, I pull the trigger again. My bullet slams into his shoulder.
“Drop your weapon,” Miff shouts.
The bastard keeps his gaze locked on me, clearly aiming to put a bullet between my eyes.
Pain pulses beneath my vest.
Finally, he throws his weapon on the floor. Miff hauls him off the bed.
I tug the vest away from my chest, trying to relieve the sting, and wince as I straighten up. “I’m glad my men and I found you. Once we’ve captured every soldier Novikoff and Vero sent to Newark, this territory will be mine.”
Having been hit several times while wearing my bulletproof vest, I need adequate rest. I spend the entire flight resting on my comfortable bed in the spacious suite of my private jet.
Hunting unscrupulous assholes has become a part-time job. I still put in hours at my family’s corporation during the day, suit and tie, boardrooms and contracts. But at night, I track down the bastards one by one.
Anyone tied to the men who hurt Serenity’s family pays with their life. Blood will stain my hands for a long time. I’m fine with that.
