Page 13 of Mafia Don's Secret Baby

I did need to worry about this attack.

This warehouse was mine. This attack was different than the others. It couldn’t be construed as anything else. I’d spent the past two days looking at all the attacks and trying to find enough to warrant storming the Russians’ home and ending all their miserable lives, and this was it.

I stepped out of the car and slammed the door as I lifted a rifle. I didn’t know the numbers. I didn’t know if we were on top of this fight or if we were being defeated, but I knew my men were in danger inside. Anthony was en route, and if going inside first could save even one of my men, it would be worth it.

I’d kill or capture every Russian inside.

I veered away from the main entrances and walked around the metal building. A closed dumpster sat just below a second-story window, and the neighboring building provided enough cover from the street that I didn’t hesitate to climb onto the dumpster and pry the window open.

The sound of dying men reached my ears. The groans and grunts of pain combined with shots from single-shot pistols echoed through the neighborhood. I glanced over the ledge and found the second-story hallway empty. It took the work of only a moment to haul myself through the window and close it behind me.

I glanced down at my phone and then around the hallway once more before typing out a message to Anthony.

I’m inside. Second story.

I tucked my phone into my pocket and silenced it, knowing that Anthony would immediately call and tell me to wait. He’d be here soon, but not soon enough. My men were inside, and they were dying. The Russians had taken enough from me. They wouldn’t take more of my soldiers.

I strode silently down the hallway. I knew the layout of the building, and I eased around each corner, preparing for an attacker.

I made it to the second-story loft before dropping to my stomach and scooting to the ledge. I propped my rifle in front of me and looked around. Six of my men fought eight Russians. I didn’t bother looking at the dozen fallen men on the floor, hoping they weren’t all my guys.

I focused on the living ones.

I watched as one of the Russians lifted a gun to the head of one of my guys, and I pulled the trigger. The Russian flung backward, eyes rolling. I didn’t focus on the man for long as I moved my gun to each Russian, taking out five of them before they realized a sniper was in their midst—one with impeccable aim. People ducked and covered, and my men fled through the side exit. Each one made it out of the warehouse, and I clenched my jaw.

I’d take care of the rest of this.

I moved from my spot, knowing they’d shoot in my direction in seconds.

As anticipated, bullets ricocheted off the metal wall that had been behind me as I moved.

I ran down the hallway, keenly aware of all the sounds around me as the men on the first level reconvened, loading their guns. Some rushed out the door to track my soldiers, while others talked about finding the sniper. There were more voices than there had been people fighting, but I couldn’t determine the number.

I rounded the corner toward the stairwell and dropped my weapon, using my bare hands to attack the first man to come upstairs. He’d been ignorant not to wait for the others.

As I put him in a headlock, I sucked in a deep breath and used my body’s weight to snap his neck. He went limp, and I dragged him backward and into the nearest room, pulling the door closed behind him. I moved to the other side of the stairwell and waited as the men downstairs shouted in Russian.

I waited.

They said something else, and I tucked myself back into a small alcove, waiting.

The men rushed up the stairs, trying to be stealthy, and I waited for the perfect moment to attack. It would be me against a handful of men. I needed to wait on backup if I wanted any of these people to make it out alive for questioning, but it wasn’t worth risking the lives of my guys.

The main door downstairs slammed open. The pops of gunfire filled my ears from below, Anthony’s voice rising above them. “Clear,” he shouted.

I listened to my men rushing up the stairs and stepped from the alcove, getting the attention of the remaining Russians.

The split second gave my men the upper hand.

“You crazy motherfucker!” Anthony shouted as all of the Russians fell. Not dead, though. Some of my men had guns, and others had tasers. He rushed toward me. “Do you want to get yourself killed?”

“I’m not letting more of my men die.”

“Did you learn anything?”

“I’m about to.”

I moved toward one of the men jolting from the electricity that ran through him, and I grabbed the back of his shirt, shoving him partially over the balcony. “Are you going to give me information, or are you going to die?”

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