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“I’m going to give you two seconds to toss your gun down and get the fuck off the mother of my child!”
“Fuck,” Lazaro mutters, like he knows he’s crossed a line and fell into a landmine.
“Let’s chalk this up to a misunderstanding,” I say, because even though my gun is trained on his head, he can kill Jillian at any time. “This is your town, Scava. Give me my woman. I’m taking her home with me. She’s not prosecuting your case. And I have a copy of your evidence in my suitcase. It can be at the bottom of the Hudson River by midnight. Give me Jillian and we’ll be wheels up and out of here within the hour. My brother’s plane is at the airport waiting for me.”
Lazaro is stock still, staring at her. He owns this city, he can make up any story he wants about why he let us go.
“I’m standing up, Scava. We’re high-ranking men in our families. You’re the underboss for fuck’s sake,” I spit through my teeth to shame him.
He’s got a solid operation going here. And he put it at risk.
“I expect this kind of despicable irrational behavior from capos and soldiers.”
“Like your brother, Lachlan?” Lazaro Scava stands up, head held high. Defiant prick.
I crawl around his desk and with Jillian in my reach, I lunge forward, scoop her up, and tuck her behind me. If we’re going to die, we’re going to die together.
Scava and I face each other, the barrels of our guns aimed at each other’s head.
“Boss!” Someone yells from the hallway.
Shite.
“I got this under control,” Lazaro yells to them.
No, he’s too proud to be rescued.
Eejit… But his bravado is good for me.
“I will let you have her, O’Rourke. But I get to fuck your whore in the cunt as payment for your brother killing my hitman.” He smiles sickeningly, undoing his belt. “Then you get to watch me fuck her ass as punishment for you coming into my club, my turf, and pointing a gun at my head. I don’t care who she is to you. Or that bastard baby she’s carrying. I do what I want in this town and that means…”
“You deserve to die,” Jillian grunts, brandishing a small hand gun.
Before I can stop her, she fucking shoots Lazaro in the head.
CHAPTER EIGHTY
Eoghan
Iwrestle the gun away from Jillian. If she’s traumatized, she might kill me.
“Whoa, I got you, my love.” I hold her, checking to make sure Scava isn’t moving.
My woman got off a clean, dead-center shot to the forehead. He’s gone to meet his maker.
He told his men to back off, that bought us time. Maybe only about ten seconds.
“Where did you learn to shoot like that?” I ask to get my throat working.
“I belong to a gun club.”
“God, I love you. You are so fucking made for me.” I kiss her.
“You actually love me?” Her voice cracks, while I push down her skirt to cover what’s mine.
Rage burns under my skin. “Aye, I do. But there’s time to talk about how much later.”
I spot a bookcase in the back of the office. God, I hope to hell there’s a secret exit. Surely, the fucking Mafia underboss would have an escape route.
