Page 112 of His Dark Vendetta

Vito

“I’m parked right up the street,” Gina said and rifled through her purse.

I pulled a pack of smokes out of my back pocket. “You sure you want to lose your spot?” Parking in Boston was a pain in the ass, but parking in the North End was its own circle of hell.

She chuckled. “I’m willing to make the sacrifice. It’s way too hot for the T.” She extracted her keys as if she’d struck gold, and the smile on her face shone as bright as the summer sun.

I lit a cigarette.

A silver Hyundai Elantra rounded the corner and crept up the street. Too slow. Even for cobblestones. I squinted through the glare coming off the bumper. No plates.

I took a drag off my cigarette and placed a hand on the small of Gina’s back. “Let’s go.”

I urged her forward, keeping an eye on the unmarked car. We hadn’t taken more than a few steps before the driver’s side front and rear windows rolled down.

“Fuck.” I tossed the cigarette, but before I could get my body between the car and Gina, gunfire rang out through the square.

Glass shattered and sprayed behind me. Gina screamed.

I grabbed her, pulled her into me, and threw us to the ground, covering her body with mine. Blood splattered the sidewalk. It came from Gina’s arm.

“Vito,” she cried. “What’s happening?”

“Don’t move, tesoro. Stay down.”

I pulled out my gun, but at this close range and no cover, the last thing I wanted to do was draw attention. I had to protect Gina.

Shots came from both directions, a relentless barrage—Crack! Crack! Crack!—interrupted by shouting.

Soles clapped the pavement. Another burst of rapid fire.

A hand clamped around my biceps and hauled me to my feet. Gina cried out, an agonized sound that ripped through my chest.

I swung at the head attached to the hand around my arm. My right hook connected with a thick skull and strength seeped out of the man’s hold. He wobbled on his feet for no more than a heartbeat before falling to the ground unconscious.

I pivoted to find Gina and froze. A man with dark hair, blue eyes, and a spray of freckles across his face held her pressed against his chest, his left arm wrapped around her neck. She clung to his forearm and biceps, her face leeched of color and her dark eyes speckled in crimson, wide and terrified. Blood soaked through the sleeve of her blouse.

He lifted a gun and pointed it at my head. I raised my hands. I was fast, but not point-blank-range fast, and that bullet, where it was aimed, was a blood demon killer.

“Stay away from my sister,” he shouted, and my stomach dropped. I saw the resemblance in his eyes. “You hear that, you Italian fucks? You leave my sister the fuck alone!”

“You idiot,” I shouted. “She’s in there! Siobhán is in there right now!”

He paled, his bravado wavering. His eyes darted from me to the shattered glass, giving me the opening I needed.

I lunged and batted the gun out of his hand. Gina squirmed and kicked, and I twisted his arm off her chest.

Splitting pain shot through the back of my skull and sent a flash across my vision. It took me to my knees, and dizziness blurred the world around me.

Siobhán’s brother regained his hold on Gina, but this time pointed the gun at her temple. She stilled, the fear in her eyes clear even through my wavering vision. He glared at me and backed away. The crack of gunfire continued, but it sounded distant like I was in a tunnel. I swayed on my knees.

“Grab him,” he said. “Put him in the trunk. He said they need two.”

He? Two of what?

Someone hauled me up by my armpits. I bucked my head back, landing a blow to the hard skull behind me. My captor yelped and dropped me.

“For fuck’s sake, knock him out!”

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