Page 48
Chapter
Twenty-Three
ANTONIO
We make it through the rest of May without Alexander misbehaving.
And because he's been good, when he invited me to The Bloodrot to support Logan in the strip marathon happening today, I agreed without hesitation.
I may have bought The Bloodrot on impulse, but the club has turned out to be a profitable investment. The renovations have attracted a steady stream of customers, and Vincent has done an excellent job managing the place while we've expanded the operation behind the scenes.
We've stationed some of our men around the corner to move products that sell well in the area, and the basement has been renovated to accommodate an underground fighting club, which operates seamlessly alongside the gambling arm of our organization. Between those operations and the revenue from the club itself, we're barely halfway through June, and this month's profit has already exceeded what we made throughout May.
Alexander has already gone ahead with Logan for moral support, while I'm in the back of the limo with my cousins, who are looking forward to the evening. Carmine and Raffaele have been discussing how much they intend to spend bidding on the performers for days now.
Enzo, on the other hand, has been scowling since he climbed into the car, looking displeased about something he's refusing to share.
“You never told me where you and Logan disappeared to on your way back from Trenton,” I say, turning to him just as the limo drives out of Father's estate.
Enzo lifts his head, the scowl on his face turning to a smirk. “That happened, like, years ago. I no longer remember what happened.”
Carmine is about to say something when a deafening bang cuts him off, and the limousine lurches violently to one side, throwing us against our seats before the driver manages to bring it under control. My wine glass topples from its holder, spilling across the carpet as the vehicle swerves again. I brace a hand against the seat and exchange a look with my cousins, who are already reaching beneath their jackets. Within seconds, all five of us have drawn our guns.
The driver brings us to an abrupt stop, and I reach for the door handle, intending to find out what the fuck is happening outside. I barely manage to push the door open before a bullet flies past, and I slam it shut again.
Gunshots erupt around us, several rounds striking the limo with dull metallic thuds, but the reinforced glass and armored body hold.
“It has to be the Falcos,” Marco says, his expression hardening as he looks toward the darkened window. “This is a private road.”
Father's estate is situated far away from the main roads and nobody comes through here by accident.
“Do you think they have us surrounded?” Raffaele asks, checking his gun.
“I don't think so,” I reply, listening to the exchange of shots outside. “Davide, Mason, and the others will return fire. We'll know soon enough.”
A few seconds later, the door swings open, and Davide appears, his gun still in his hand as he looks us over. “There were four of them in total,” he reports. “We killed two, but the others escaped. We believe they're going to call for reinforcements.”
“Are there more weapons in the SUV?” Enzo asks as we climb out. “We can lie in wait here and tell the driver to park farther down or return to the estate.”
Mason appears with Asher, Luca, and Luigi. They distribute the automatic rifles to each of us along with enough ammunition. We instruct the driver to leave the area and wait for our call, and he wastes no time getting back behind the wheel.
Davide and Mason lay spike strips across the road while the rest of us prepare for the possibility of another attack. Once they're finished, we spread out and take our positions, my cousins and I on one side of the road while our bodyguards are on the other.
A few minutes later, the distant rumble of an engine breaks the silence, and the headlights of a minibus appear around the bend. I straighten, watching the sixteen-seater approach at a steady speed until its front tires roll over the spike strips.
The tires blow in quick succession, and the bus swerves violently, its rear end swinging as the driver struggles to keep it from overturning. The sound of shredded rubber scraping against the pavement fills the air before the vehicle finally lurches to a stop, its engine still running and its headlights illuminating the empty stretch of road ahead.
We open fire, not giving them a chance to get organized.
The windows shatter beneath the barrage, broken glass scattering across the road as our gunfire lands inside the bus. Through the fractured windows, I catch glimpses of men ducking between the seats, their weapons flashing as they fire back.
One of the attackers forces the bus door open and attempts to climb out, only to crumple onto the steps when Raffaele shoots him. Another follows immediately behind him, firing wildly as he jumps onto the ground, but Marco puts him down before he can get more than a few feet from the vehicle.
The rest continue shooting from inside. A bullet strikes the tree beside me, showering my shoulder with fragments of bark, and I tighten my grip on the rifle, waiting for a clear view through one of the shattered windows. I see a man raising his weapon between two seats and fire, watching him collapse out of sight. The air grows thick with the acrid smell of gunpowder, and somewhere to my left, Enzo is shouting something at Carmine, but his words are lost beneath the gunfire. I check on my cousins, making certain they're still on their feet, before returning my attention to the bus.
The attackers are beginning to lose ground, their shots becoming less frequent as the exchange continues. Several of them have fallen across the seats, and the remaining men are struggling to return fire through the broken windows while we keep them under pressure from both sides of the road.
The bus door swings open again, and three men emerge. Davide and Mason immediately engage them, and within seconds, all three are lying motionless on the floor. Another burst of gunfire comes from the rear of the bus, Enzo swears and returns fire with a vicious grin.
