Page 3 of Shot For Mercy

I swallow the lump in my throat and turn away, suddenly feeling like I’m intruding. But I don’t go far because this moment is tugging at my heartstrings and allowing me to see a side of my son I don’t often get to.

“My mama is dead.”

“So is mine,” Matteo says to Cole. “I’ll take care of you. You have me now.”

Tears sting the backs of my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. If only he knew.

“But you’re younger than me,” Cole says incredulously, as if the notion of my son taking care of him is absurd. “How will you take care of me?”

“I’ll take care of your heart.” I shake my head, hating how much their conversation is affecting me, yet I can’t seem to walk away. “And I know how to fight.”

“Teach me?” Cole asks him.

“How do I know you won’t use it against me?” my son replies, and I grin.

“I’ll take care of you too,” Cole says softly, and I look back at them.

They’re on the bed, holding each other tightly. I find the will to walk away, knowing deep down that I made the right choice. They’ll take care of each other now.

They’ll be best friends.

18 YEARS OLD

The silence is deafening as I wait in the warehouse with my soldiers for the shipment of coke to come in. They’re late, and I don’t tolerate tardiness. Matteo stands next to me in the shadows, passing me his cigarette, and I take a deep pull. The smoke fills my lungs, and I instantly relax.

Emiliano has me taking care of this. He usually alternates between Matteo and I, but he said I should have backup just in case something happens. I wonder if he’s fucking psychic, because they’ve never been this late before. A shiver runs down my spine as a vehicle comes into view, and my soldiers shift from one foot to the other.

“Those aren’t our people, boss,” they tell me, and I narrow my eyes on the vehicle, trying to make out who the fuck it could be through the tinted windows. “Fuck, get down!”

In our confusion, we failed to see the other vehicles pulling up behind the blacked-out SUV. Now, shots are being fired, and we’re dropping to the ground like flies. I look around at the five men on the ground—my men—dead. Anger boils my blood as I try to step away from the shadows, but Matteo grabs my arm.

“No,” he growls. I look at him as he shakes his head. His dark gaze finds mine, and I hold it. “We aren’t dying tonight.”

“So we stay in the shadows like fucking cowards?” I snap. “I think the fuck not.”

Matteo sighs, getting his gun out, and so do I. Our men shoot down multiple Russians across from us, but they continue to go down. Until it’s just Matteo and I, with our weapons drawn, pointed right at Andrey Sokolov.

Andrey is the Russian Mafia heir, and he’ll be Pakhan one day. I’d love to kill him, but I know I need the go-ahead from Emiliano before I put his entire empire at risk. Me killing Andrey would be an act of war, much deserved, but an act of war, nonetheless. I wonder if that’s what he’s doing though, declaring it for both of us. He is on our turf, after all. Killing our men.

“Are you two pussies going to shoot, or what?” Andrey grins, blond hair shining as he gets closer. “Italian scum.” His accent is thick as he speaks, and he spits on the ground as he walks right toward us.

Matteo places a hand on my shoulder and squeezes, but I keep my eyes trained ahead, looking right at the motherfucker headed our way.

“No, Cole,” he whispers. “You’re—” Matteo says in Italian.

“English, fuckers.” Andrey grins as he gets close enough that my weapon is pressed against his chest. “I want to understand your last words.”

“Last words?” I scoff. “We are Made Men.”

“You can’t kill us without starting a war,” Matteo says, and Andrey falters for a moment, stepping away from my gun. “And you know that.”

Andrey nods, taking steps back with his gun trained on Matteo. A shiver runs down my spine as I see him pull the trigger, and the sound of the weapon going off makes my ears ring. I turn toward Matteo, who hits the ground immediately, and I feel the blood draining from my face. Dropping to my knees, I immediately press my hand to the gunshot wound, making him cry out.

Looking back, I see Andrey retreating with a grin on his face. I know that if I take my hand off Matteo’s chest, he’ll bleed out.

I put pressure on the wound with one hand, using the other to take my cell phone out of my back pocket. Then I dial Emiliano. He picks up on the very first ring, and I hear his heavy breathing in my ear. I close my eyes momentarily, trying not to look at Matteo.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

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