Page 70 of Satin Empire

I pull her close and kiss her hard, tongue invading her mouth, claiming her, owning her, letting her know that I feel the same damn way, that I’m so deep into her, and I can’t come up for air.

When I break the kiss off, she’s blinking rapidly, and looks flushed and lovely. “Is that your way of saying it back?” she whispers. “Because I feel like I’m hanging a little bit here.”

“I love you too, baby,” I say and kiss her again, even though some asshole’s honking. He can go the fuck around. I hold that kiss for as long as I want, and when I break apart, it’s with the promise that there will be more kissing, much more kissing, and very soon.

Chapter 35

Carlo

I expected the anger to fade after getting her back; instead, it’s smoldering inside of me like an inferno under the ground waiting for just enough oxygen to explode. I can barely sit still as Renzo barks his orders over the radio, maneuvering a dozen different trucks and SUVs into positions throughout a crumbling Camden neighborhood.

The city across the river is a nest of falling-apart row homes and trash-strewn empty lots, like all the worst blocks of Philly’s worst areas got transposed to this place, copied and pasted, then left to decay. There were glimmers of beauty: groups of people laughing outside convenience stores, old houses with Victorian-style molding leftover from when these places were constructed, strangely impressive graffiti, and a group of kids playing wiffle ball in a park. This was Camden, where Jasha had gone to ground, where I’d finally get the chance to end the war.

I park my truck and kill the engine. I can see the building, a freestanding house with nothing but weeds and dirt on either side of it across from another empty lot. It’s late, a little after midnight, and the streetlights here were broken or burned out a long time ago.

“I’m in position,” I say over the main radio and switch over to the channels we designated for private conversations. This was still probably being listened to by a dozen different soldiers, but they knew better than to speak. “You still with me, bro?”

Saul’s voice crackles in the night. “I’m with you. Hell of a place to hide out. Doesn’t even have fucking windows.”

He’s right, there’s only plywood where the glass had been shattered and removed. A rusting fence wraps around the side yard. “Check out the grass.”

It takes Saul a second to reply. “You’re right. Someone’s mowing the fucking lawn.”

I smile to myself and double-check my gun to make sure it’s loaded. “They can toss all the trash they want out front, but someone’s clearly maintaining the place. Why mow an abandoned building?”

“God damn. We really have the right spot.”

I tamp down my excitement. “We definitely have a spot. Who knows if Jasha’s here right now or if he’s in some other rat’s nest keeping a low profile. Either way, when we hit this place, he’ll know we’re onto him.”

“It’s our best bet,” Saul says and his voice sounds calm and certain, which are two things I’m most definitely not. If we miss on this attack and Jasha slips away again, I don’t know when we’ll get another chance this good. The war would draw on for another year, another five years, and what will my family be if that happens? What will I be?

I switch back to the main channel and listen as Renzo calmly gets everyone in position. We learned a while back that text messages and cell towers leave digital footprints, a record of all our movements—but nobody listens for radio chatter anymore. Every solder out here tonight left his phone at home and is working from memory and maps. They’re all good, dependable men, quick with a gun, the sort of men I’ve trusted to have my back a dozen times or more.

They’re our best. We left the Rinaldo and the Milano ringers at home. Tonight, it’s only Rossi.

“Check the time,” Renzo says, his voice like a general. He’s got a drone in the air and he’s watching from way up in the fucking sky. I picture him hitting the building with a Tomahawk missile, blowing the whole thing to cinders and brick. “We’re going in three minutes. Saul, check in.”

“Ready,” Saul says.

“Carlo?”

“I’m good.” I lean forward, anxious to start moving. These moments before action are the hardest. Once I’m rolling into danger, my brain goes blank, my thoughts get numb, and there’s only the job in front of me. It’s a strange, Zen-like sort of situation, or at least that’s how Dante used to describe it.

Funny, thinking about Dante now of all times, when we’re so close to catching the man that killed him. I look out at the stars and wonder if he’s somewhere watching over us, and the thought gives me some comfort. This one’s for you, brother.

Renzo goes quiet then. There’s no need for chatter. The minutes drag past, agonizing and slow. I think of Alana, my beautiful wife, and the way she whispered I love you this morning in bed. I can’t get enough of hearing those words. I love you, I love you. It’s been building in me since the moment I first saw her, since I dragged her off that stage, my palms on her lovely breasts, the smell of her hair in my nose and her ass against my hard dick, and it only grew as I got to know her. That girl is stronger than she gives herself credit for, and I don’t give a damn if she’s way too young for me anymore. We fit together, we help make each other better, and that’s all I need from a partner—anything else can fuck right off.

“Front team, go.” Renzo’s voice, and that’s my cue.

I push open the door. I hear other doors opening all down the block. I flood forward, rushing to the front, very intent on being the first guy in that house. The radio crackles and Renzo calls for the back team to move—that’s Saul and his boys—followed by the side team, led by Gian. They’re keeping a perimeter around the house to guard against anyone trying to escape, and any potential ambushes.

I pound up the stairs and reach the door. Like the rest of the building, it’s plywood, except there’s a handle nailed to the front. I grab it and yank, but the thing’s locked tight—I get the feeling that there’s more to this door than just some flimsy wood. The rest of my team arrives as I rear back, bracing myself against the wall, and kicking as hard as I can right above the doorknob.

It bursts in and I nearly fall on my fucking face as I stumble forward. My gun’s in my hand in the next second with a flashlight on top, the beam raking across the black interior. The front hallway is empty, but it’s clean, not at all what I would’ve guessed an abandoned house in the middle of a bad neighborhood would look like. On my right is the living room, there’s a couch in front of a TV hung on the wall plus several backpacks lined up near where the window should be. A man’s head pops up, staring at me with wide eyes, and I crack him across the face with the butt of my gun before one of my guys puts a knee on his chest and a barrel against his head.

There’s another loud crack, and Saul’s in through the back. Let them clear that end. I turn and head up the stairs, and as I come up to the first landing, a gunshot explodes the wall right in front of my face. I throw myself back and nearly fall down the steps, except Saul’s there, and he helps keep my balance.

My brother gives me a wicked grin and puts a finger to his lips as he takes out a long cylinder. I don’t need him to tell me what it is. Renzo splurged on some military surplus gear a few months back, and these bad boys came in the shipment. He yanks the tab and throws it, letting it rebound off the wall and toward the shooter.

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