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CHAPTERNINE
DOM FLOORED IT through an empty stretch of Brooklyn for only seconds before having to slam on his brakes as a cab pulled out in front of him. He cursed, quickly switching lanes, only to hit a red light.
The downside to living in the city was that it didn’t give his Porsche Taycan a chance to really stretch her legs, and if he wasn’t technically on lockdown, he would’ve kept driving somewhere upstate.
As it was, he wasn’t even supposed to be here. Not in his car, not in Brooklyn, and certainly not heading to his brownstone. If his father knew he was taking this risk, he’d be tempted to lockhimin the casino’s basement, but Dom needed a fucking breather and to grab a few things from his place. Was it dangerous? Sure. But the Fiores were still technically in mourning, and being the old-school fuckers they were meant respecting that time before things popped off.
But in case they didn’t…
Dom glanced at Gino in the passenger seat, a gun in his lap at the ready and his eyes constantly scanning for danger. Bringing him along had been Dom’s one concession, because even as reckless as he could be, he wasn’t stupid. He’d never go out alone.
“Streets are quiet,” Gino murmured. “Doesn’t mean shit, though.”
Dom glanced at his rearview and side mirrors. “Haven’t been followed.”
“Too busy shitting themselves over the newest development.” Gino stopped his inspection of the streets long enough to grin at Dom. “Speaking of, how’s that going?”
“For him? Well enough. For me? He’s still fucking alive, isn’t he?”
“But you left him with Chef.”
“So?”
Gino chuckled and looked back out his window. “An interesting choice.”
Maybe so, but Chef was Dom’s oldest friend and most trusted confidant, even if he wasn’t technically part of the family. He’d never betray a Rossetti, and that, along with his morefavorabletraits, was exactly why he was the perfect person to watch Luca when Dom wasn’t around.
Dom made a right, hitting the gas again until his corner brownstone came into view. Built in 1900, with four stories including a private garage, it had always been considered by Dom a safe place in the city—once you were inside. Nothing beat the top-tier security at Midas or his father’s place, which was why he’d reluctantly agreed to stay there instead, but the penthouse didn’t exactly have all the comforts of home…or the weapons.
“Clear?” Dom asked, scanning the streets on his side.
“Clear,” Gino replied.
Dom hit the garage button, and no sooner had the door begun to lift than shots rang out. The first hit the front fender with a high-pitchedzing, and both men immediately ducked.
Dom reached for the Glock strapped under his seat as Gino readied the one on his lap. Several more bullets hit the back of the car, and one shattered the rear window.
“Fuck! Where are these assholes?” Dom shouted as he tried to get a look out the window. But he didn’t risk sitting up.
Gino reached for the rearview mirror and angled it toward the back of the car. “I got eyes on two Fiore fuckers across the street, but I can’t see dick on your side.”
Dom gritted his teeth and braved a glance out the window and up the side street, but like his passenger, he couldn’t see shit. Shots rang out again; one whizzed by his window and blew off the side mirror, and that really set Dom’s blood to boiling. There weren’t too many things he cherished in this world, but his Porsche and his life were definitely in the top five.
Dom shifted into reverse, and as he flew back into the street and brought the car around, shots began to fire from behind the stone staircase leading up to his front door.
Just as his father predicted, these Fiore fuckers had been waiting for him—and wasn’t that gonna be a fun conversation when it happened. But there was no time to think about that, not when Gino was winding down the window then leaning out the car with his Glock aimed toward the stairs.
Pop. Pop. Pop.
Bullets flew threw the air and lodged in the stairs as the assholes hiding behind them ducked for cover. But they wouldn’t stay hidden for long.
As Dom floored it, Gino was in prime position to—pop pop pop—
“Fuck!” someone shouted from the street as the person beside him fell. “You’ll pay for that, Rossetti!”
He fired several shots in Gino’s direction as he ran toward the car, but Dom’s foot was already glued to the floorboard. The smell of rubber filled the air as the Porsche’s tires squealed before it flew toward the end of the street. He was about to take the turn for the bridge when he caught sight of their wannabe assassin being pulled into the back of a black sedan.
Fuck it all to hell,Dom thought, shaking his head.So much for a quiet goddamn day.
