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Inside, I found two dead bodies and more guys retreating. I shot one and sent Iago’s team upstairs. Mal came with me. We cleared the downstairs rooms, killing two more guards. Mal clubbed one to death with his baton, gleefully smiling as he caved in the bastard’s skull.
More guards were huddled in the back of the building, guarding over the kitchen. They had metal tables overturned as a makeshift barricade. I held Mal back and tossed a small explosive into the room, courtesy of Iago. Fortunately, I’d learned from last time, and this one didn’t cause a fire. Instead, it exploded in a flash of light and sound, and we charged in after it.
The defenders were blind. I said nothing as Mal leapt over the table and fell on them like a wild animal. He smashed their bodies, their skulls, broke knees, shattered arms. I shot one, two three. Six men lay dead on the floor, plus more in the other rooms.
“So much for only ten defenders,” I said, breathing hard.
Mal grinned at me, his clothes dripping with blood. “Where’s Balestra?”
“I don’t know.” I moved back into the front of the house. It was quiet. Much too quiet. Iago came down the steps. “Report.”
“Clear upstairs,” he said, shaking his head. “We found the little girl. She’s safe.”
“That’s good,” I said, feeling some relief for Cezary and his girl. “Double-check down here.”
I went back into the kitchen. Mal was pushing open the back door with some difficulty. It came open suddenly as an old iron bench fell away and clattered to the stone patio.
The backyard was pretty, with wildflowers in beds and a small burbling fountain. Chairs with cushions and a little swing. Idyllic, comfortable. The sort of place an old man could sit and sip some iced tea and feel good about being alive.
The back gate was open and I looked at Mal.
“Cezary,” I said.
He grunted and ran.
I chased after him. We sprinted across the garden. It was a stupid move, in retrospect—if Balestra had more men, and if he were smart, he would’ve left a group hidden in the bushes to ambush anyone trying to catch him from behind.
Scattered gunfire from the house made me flinch. Mal reached the gate and kicked it open, staggering through. He looked like a mad demon drenched in his victim’s lifeblood, dripping with their gore. I went after him, and we came into a small trail that cut down a wooded hill and disappeared toward the street below. We hurried down it and slowed as we approached three men sitting astride motorcycles.
Two bodies lay on the ground. Both were dead from gunshots. A third was on his knees with his hands up on his head.
Mal stopped dead in his tracks but I kept on going, getting closer and closer.
Mauro Balestra.
I knew him so well. I’d been engaged to his daughter for a while, and before that, I’d spent a lot of time with her. He’d been around my father, one of his most trusted associates. He’d been like family for a while, and his betrayal cut me so deep, it’d left lasting, permanent scars and wounds.
And yet I knew him. I knew what he was and what he was capable of, and I couldn’t see past all the pain he’d caused and all the lives he’d ruined.
I hated him. I hated him so much it hurt. I looked back at Mal and snapped my fingers to get his attention. “Call Cap.”
He nodded, took out his phone, and dialed.
Mauro Balestra stared at me. Cezary grinned and held a shotgun against his shoulder.
“How’s it going up at the house?” he asked.
“Cleared it out,” I said. “You were right. He wasn’t expecting anything. But he had more than ten inside.”
Cezary shrugged. “It was a guess.”
“We found your little girl. She’s inside and she’s safe.” The relief on his face was palpable. I felt a surge of pride over reuniting him with his daughter.
“None of this would’ve happened if this bastard hadn’t betrayed me,” Mauro Balestra said. His voice was a gravel-pit growl.
I walked over and kicked him in the chest. He fell to the ground, gasping in surprise.
“Doesn’t feel good, does it?” I asked quietly. “You killed my family. You hurt your only daughter, Capri. And now you’ll pay.”
He grunted and stared up at me, and in that moment, I saw fear in his eyes—delicious, delightful fear.
We waited. Eventually, an SUV rolled down the road. Cap parked and got out. She walked over and stared at her father.
Mal went to her. They didn’t hug. He was too covered in blood for that. But he did smile, and she smiled back.
“What do we do with him?” Cezary asked.
“You should go,” I said. “He’s ours.”
“Then I’ll find my daughter. We’re straight now.”
“That we are.”
Cezary squinted at me, but shrugged, gestured at his boys, started his engine, and they rolled off.
