But then Mateo smiles, and another man walks our way.
“Javier,” Mateo says.
“Hello, cousin,” Javier replies, pulling Mateo in for a backslapping hug. “Congratulations on your happy news.”
“Thank you. This is my wife, Violet.”
Javier turns to me and smiles. This must be the head of the cartel that Mateo was telling me about.
“Hola, Violet. This is my wife, Carmella.”
I loosen up as I meet more people, and it actually starts to feel like a party. The Italians from New York arrive, along with some guy who looks creepy as hell from the outfit in Chicago.
There’s an edge to the room, as if no onetrulytrusts each other, but it almost feels like a weird reunion. People mingle, some even dance.
“Do they all know why we’re here?” I whisper to Mateo.
“No.” Mateo kisses my ear. “This is a charity event.”
I nod, and when I see movement by the entrance, I crane my neck to see if it’s Rose, but it’s not, and I can’t help the crushing disappointment that fills me.
Where is she?
Two hours later, I’m seated at our table. Dinner was served, but I didn’t eat a bite. There’s still been no sign of my sister or Lincoln, and I’m starting to lose hope that they’re coming.
“Something’s not right,” I hear Carson say to Mateo. “I feel it.”
“I want to get the girls out of here,” Rome agrees, but before any of us can move, we hear gunshots just outside the doors, and then men come pouring into the room, guns raised.
“Motherfucker,” Mateo growls as everyone flies into action. Tables are turned on their sides for cover, and I watch in horror as people are shot. “Take this.”
Mateo passes me a small handgun, and I don’t hesitate to take it from him and raise it.
“If anyone comes near you that you don’t know, you shoot them.”
I nod frantically, and then Mateo is shooting as he leads me toward a side door, obviously trying to get me out of here. He hits two men, right between the eyes.
Rome slips out with Lulu and Scarlett, but then someone grabs my hair from behind, and I whirl around and, without pausing, punch the asshole in the throat.
He sputters, gasping for breath as he falls to the ground.
“What the fuck?” Mateo asks.
“He pulled my hair.” I shrug and Mateolaughs.
“Fuck, I love you. I want you out of here.” Diego comes running our way as Bobby and Lucky flank me, their backs to me, as they continue to open fire. “I want hostages,” Mateo growls.
“We already have two that we’re taking to the cell,” Diego says.
Within minutes—seconds?—the intruders are slaughtered, and Cillian looks mutinous as he runs our way, while to mysurprise, everyone else goes back to normal after righting the tables and finding their seats.
Like this is just a normal Saturday night in Mafia-land.
This is freaking crazy!
“What the fuck,” Mateo demands.
“My thoughts exactly,” Cillian says. “No sign of Lincoln or your sister. I’m sorry, lass.”
