Page 66 of Finn

“I’m pulling up to the gate now.”

Thank fuck.

Passing through the wide-open front gate, I spy the two guards on the floor of the guardhouse with their throats slit open.

We drive slowly up the drive, keeping our eyes peeled for any movement, but only find three more of my guards dead on the ground.

“Finn, be fucking careful,” Cillian calls as I shove the car door open and fly to the front door, my gun in hand and ready to shoot any motherfucker I see moving. Cillian is right behind me, his gun raised and ready to fire.

“I’m at the front door,” I tell Alessia, not willing to hang up until I have her in my arms.

“Please be careful. I don’t know if they’re still in the house.”

I don’t like there being too many cameras in the house, but I have a few. I watched Orlando and the other two men he was with walking out the front door and toward the gate. They must have parked on the street and come onto the property somewhere along the fence line. I’ll be figuring out how they got to my guards without being detected.

Rushing into the house, I fly down the stairs, trusting Cillian to have my back just in case I missed someone lying in wait.

“Open the door, Alessia.” The basement is dark, but light spills from the steel door when she cracks it open, and Alessia stands there with the phone still to her ear. As soon as she sees me, she runs into my arms and nearly knocks me over. Her body is shaking, and I hold her for a moment, reaffirming to myself she’s safe and unharmed.

She pulls back and steps a few feet to the right, where Enzo’s body is lying face down with two bullets in his back. Alessia drops to her knees next to her bodyguard.

“Enzo,” she cries as she feels for a pulse. “Oh my God, Finn. He’s still alive.”

I drop down next to her and place two fingers on his neck.

“There’s a pulse. It’s faint, but it’s there.”

“Thank you, God.” Alessia grabs Enzo’s hand. “You’re going to be okay, Enzo. We’ve got you.”

I don’t have the heart to tell her that I’m not so sure he’s going to pull through, judging by the amount of blood we’re kneeling in. Instead, I keep my mouth shut, tear off my jacket and place it on the two wounds on the man’s back.

“Finn, you good?” I hear Cillian call from the top of the stairs.

“We’re okay. Enzo is still alive.”

“Holy shit.” He saw the same thing I did when we pulled up the camera feed in the basement. “I’m going to turn the generator on.”

The sound of his footfalls echo through the basement as he moves toward the back door, where I have a backup generator. Moments later, the lights in the basement flick on, and I look into my wife’s teary eyes.

“Did you see them leave?” she asks, probably scared they’re going to come back any second and try to finish the job.

I nod. “There were three. I watched them walk out the front door and head toward the gate.”

“Were you already on your way back? What happened?”

I could tell her not to worry about it, and I’ll handle it. It doesn’t matter to me that she grew up in this life and knows what to expect. She’s still my wife, and I want to protect her from all of this. I don’t want any part of this to touch her, and I don’t want her to hear all the gory details about what’s bound to happen. But Alessia wouldn’t be the woman she is if she let me get away with keeping anything from her. And I wouldn’t be the man I am if I didn’t respect the hell out of her for that—and so many other things.

“We went to the same strip club as last time. When we got there, the dancer was dead. Found shot in the head in the back alley. Police were all over the place, so we came home.”

“This was a setup to get you out of the house.” Her eyes narrow as she mulls something over in that sharp-as-hell brain of hers. “Why not shoot me when they shot Enzo? I may be a fast runner, but I’m not faster than a bullet.” She looks at her friend then her gaze snaps to mine. “Holy shit. Do you think Carlo and Orlando are working together?”

“My guess?” I ask, and Alessia nods. “They wanted to take you. Hold you hostage, or, I don’t know, sell you off. If Carlo is involved, that would be the most logical reason.” Not that logical and that piece of shit’s name belong in the same sentence. “That’s what he tried to do to the prosecutor who put his old man away. She’s also involved with the president of an MC we work with. The Black Roses and the Cataldis have a history that goes way back. It’s not the first time someone from their organization tried to take one of the women and sell her in the skin trade.”

“Jesus fucking Christ. Well, at least he’s consistent. Sounds like Carlo and Orlando are a match made in hell.”

“Maybe, but they fucked up more than they can possibly imagine when they went after you. I don’t care what I have to do; they’ll both die before this is over.”

Alessia looks me straight on with fire and vengeance swirling in her green eyes. We’re kneeling over her dying friend’s body, both of us with blood on our hands, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen a person with such resolute determination and anger on their face.

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