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Freddy and Neon lifted their gazes toward me and gave a nod.
“Boys,” I muttered.
“Everything okay inside?” Freddy jerked his head toward the building.
“Just fucking peachy.”
Fifteen more minutes and we’d be out of there. Twenty, and I’d be yanking off this goddamn tie and stuffing it into my pocket. Then I'd probably head to The Rock and shoot some pool, maybe work off this fucking tension with a bottle of Jack and some random piece with her head in my lap. I reached up and massaged the back of my neck.
Fifteen fucking minutes. I lifted my hand and looked at the time. I couldn’t fucking wait.
“There he is…the piece of shit who laughs at a funeral.Cian Salvatore’s funeral.”
My stomach clenched at the words as five of Salvatore’s boys rounded the corner of the building and headed our way. And what did you know, the musclebound idiot led the pack.
“Shit,” Neon muttered, and glanced over his shoulder.
But there was no help coming. It was three against five. I glanced at the bulge under Neon’s jacket, then Freddy’s. If it all went bad, then we needed to be faster. But fuck me…a shootout at a Salvatore funeral?It’d start an all-out war,
“Laz,” Neon murmured, watching the guy come for us. “What the fuck do you want us to do?”
I ground my teeth and fought the twitch. There was only one thing we could do…meet them head on.
I strode forward. Fifteen minutes. They couldn’t have waited just a little fucking longer?
“I think you have it all wrong.” I met the muscle-bound asshole's gaze, all brawn and no brains. I’d seen guys like him crumbled. The problem was, in most cases, the heavier they were, the slower they moved. “I’m here to pay my respects.”
“YoufilthyStidda scum think you can come here on a day like this?”
“FilthyStidda scum?” Freddy growled, and stepped forward. “I think you have us confused with someone else. Someone you can insult without consequences.”
One of the five assholes unbuttoned his jacket. My gaze flicked to the Sig Sauer he was carrying and, for the second time in my life, the cold, empty touch of fear found me. But this wasn’t like before. This wasn’t shoot first and who gave a shit. This wasn’tkill or be killed…it didn’t need to be that way, anyway. Not here.Not now.Not when my father was standing next to Dominic Salvatore.
“Whatever happens, do not fire your fucking weapons,” I commanded, and lifted my gaze to the fetus looking motherfucker. “You’re right, we areStidda scum.But there’s a time for war and a time to get your ass kicked, so which is it, pretty boy? You want to draw down on a Rossi, or you want to eat through a straw for the next three months?” I splayed my hand and clenched my fist.
The bastard just smiled.
“You smile like a pussy,” I goaded, watching the smirk die away. “Yeah, a real nice fucking pussy. I bet you swallow cock like a pussy, too.” I glanced at the assholes he needed to protect his back. “How about it, boys? He suck good?I’m taking that as a yes.”
The idiot broke away from the others with a roar, charging toward me like a damn bull. “Like I said, fucking pussy.” I sidestepped and swung, driving my fist into a perfect uppercut.
His pack started forward, trigger-happy fucking fingers reaching for their guns. “Uh-uh,”I clucked my tongue and shook my head.
My boys already had their weapons out, muzzles aimed at chest centers. As pretty-big-asshole here clenched his jaw, he jerked his blistering fury my way and spluttered. “You’re gonna fucking pay for that.”
“What're you gonna do? You gonna shoot me at Cian Salvatore’s fucking funeral?” Movement came from the corner of my eye. Finley Salvatore just stood there, not saying a goddam thing. “You want that kind of attention? Just walk away…walk away and we can forget I ever saw your pussy face.”
“Fuck you!”he roared, reached into his jacket, and pulled his hand out.
No!Terror roared inside my head. Flashbacks followed. All I heard was the sound of shattering glass as I stared at the hole in Taken’s throat. But the silver shine wasn’t a gun…it was a fucking switchblade. He pressed the button and the blade jutted out, honed and gleaming.
“Now it’s my turn to make a pussy out of you,” the bastard snarled.
But I couldn’t move, frozen by the glint of steel. All I could see was blood…and all I could feel was the cut. The asshole came for me, switching the blade from hand to hand as he smirked. “Not so chatty now?” he grinned, and swung his arm.
I tried to move, tried to duck. I’d been in fights before, schoolyard bully ones, others that were more for fucking show. Not anything like the shootout that day, nor anything with a fucking knife.
Pain slashed across my middle.
