Page 111 of Heritage of Fire

“Mr. Rose, lay down your gun and come with us,” I say, seething internally at my own words. I hoist my gun, aiming straight toward him around the corner of the rusted green dumpster. Pools of rain sloosh beneath my feet, and the light drops that hit my face when I plowed into the alley are now coming down steadily.

“You think I’m going to subject myself to an inquisition from the Bratva?” His cackle rises above the patter of the rain, and he lifts his pistol, firing two more shots in my direction.

Hoping that would be his answer, I leap up and fire three shots.

I don’t miss.

Mr. Rose goes down, blood from his leg wound mixing with the rainwater collecting around him. I slowly rise from my crouched position and stalk toward him. His head lifts in agony, and his hand floats along the concrete, searching for his weapon that fell beside him. Chuckling, some blood spills out of his mouth, and he licks it away. The gurgle in his lungs grows louder with each breath he takes.

“Last chance, Rose,” I say, aiming my weapon at his heart.

He connects with his gun and turns it on me, but I fire first. His body slumps back against the stained alley floor, and the gun in his hand falls beside him.

“You touched my wife,” I spit out, and turn to run back inside to aid my men.

“All men to the back kitchen now! Law enforcement is a minute out.” Matteo’s voice rings in my ear, and I scurry back through the tattered restaurant, mentally counting each member of the Eight I see.

Six. I count six men, down and dead. Two of our men are also gone.

When I meet the group at the back exit, one of the Cosa Nostra men is dragging an unconscious Senator Hope and another member of the Eight is with Igor. We file out of the building and load into the vehicles, taking off seconds before law enforcement and SWAT storm the restaurant.

The plan is to meet back with Luka and Salvatore for further instruction. We make the short drive to the nearby park and pull in next to the other security.

Luka and Salvatore stand together under an umbrella, both their arms crossed. The rain is chilling, but it’s insignificant compared to our victory against EV.

Several men pat my shoulder, and I shake Matteo’s hand as Senator Hope hisses at his side. I smirk, knowing what Luka has planned for the man.

One of our Bratva SUVs comes into view, and I squint through the rain as the driver exits the car. Frank dashes around to the other side, but my eyes leave him immediately when the passenger door opens.

Dark brown hair, soaked down to near black.

Luna.

I shove several men out of my way and run to her. My legs can’t move fast enough. I barely feel the rain pelting my face as I sprint across the muddy park.

She shouldn’t be here. She?—

She crashes into me. Our mouths collide, and I taste the rain on her lips and tongue. Pure love replaces the anguished hate I was feeling minutes ago in the alleyway and relief hits me square in the chest. I didn’t have to say goodbye.

I ravage her. Pouring out all my emotions from today and months with her. My palms glide up her arms, and I wrap a hand around her neck, savoring her pulse, alive and well—loving every thump. Loving her skin beneath the pads of my fingertips.

I’m at war with myself. She shouldn’tbehere. She should be free, and safe. But those thoughts don’t stop me from cradling her head and angling it for better access to her mouth. I press myself against her. I want to hold her here forever?—

She rips away from me. “How could you?” she snaps.

Her chest is heaving, and her makeup is smeared—from the rain or from crying, I’m not sure. She lifts both hands and shoves at my chest. I stumble back, unprepared for her rage. Fire radiates from her glare, and I shiver under her unrelenting disappointment.

“You!” She shoves me again. “You tried to get rid of me!”

“I was trying to protect you from?—”

“You were just going to let me go? Without telling me you were here?” Her voice wavers, and the tears mix with the rain on her face.

I reach for her, but she backs away. A shaking hand raises to point at me, and the next words out of her mouth crack my heart in two.

“You—you don’t want me?” She sobs, arms wrapping around her middle, and I crave so much to touch her, to pull her back in. Shit, she’s all I want. All of her. But I don’t want her to feel forced to stay.

“I want more for you, Luna. For you to do the things you want to do. To travel, and be free to make your own decisions—without the Mafia in the back of your mind.” I stride to her, but she backs away again. I growl at her retreat.

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