Page 43 of Mafia Doctor's Secret Baby

“One guy,” Emil repeats, as though he’s testing the way it feels on his tongue. “I think we can take one guy….”

“Pull over,” I tell him, reaching into the glove box to grab my gun. “We need to make a move. Now.”

“But we haven’t got any idea what could be going on in there?—”

“You said it yourself—we can take one guy,” I remind him, throwing open the door before the car has fully come to a halt. “Once we’re in there, we can take it as it comes. They won’t havetime to prepare or send backup. And besides, the longer Katie’s in there…” I trail off. I can hardly bring myself to finish that sentence as it is, but I’m even less willing to stand aside and let her face off against whatever’s waiting for us in there alone.

Emil climbs out of the car, his gun in his hand, lowered to his waist so it doesn’t draw too much attention. I know it’s not exactly possible for us to slip entirely under the radar, doing something like this, but the less warning they have, the better. I don’t want the neighbors to alert the cops—I don’t know whose pocket they’re in when it comes to this city, and I’m not risking finding out it’s the Magliones.

We make our way toward the house, keeping low, darting from building to building for cover. The sunlight blares down from overhead, offering little in the way of shadows to hide in. I keep my eyes pinned to the house, taking in any movement I can see, peering through the windows for some sight of Katie. I don’t know what the chances are that we’re going to get her out of here—but I’m willing to put my life on the line to try.

Finally, we reach the back gate of the house. It’s locked, but Emil gives me a boost to climb over it, and I reach back to pull him up. We land in a cluster of thorny bushes, and I extricate myself quickly, pressing my lips together to hold in the groans of pain that threaten to escape.

“Jesus,” Emil mutters as he brushes himself off. And then he turns his attention toward the house—his mouth is set in a hard line, his shoulders tense, and I can tell that he’s searching for any way out of this.

“Ready?” I ask him.

He nods. “What’s the plan?”

“We go in through the back entrance. Take out the guard on the door, then we’ll spread out. You upstairs, me downstairs—if the ground floor is too big, I’ll go left, you go right. Search through the house until you find Katie.”

“Or until one of us gets killed.”

His words are grim, but not entirely unwarranted.

“We can’t think like that,” I counter. “Just keep pushing. We’ve dealt with worse before.”

I’m not sure I’m telling the truth, but I don’t have time to get hung up on that right now. I check that my gun is loaded to the brim, and without another word, I cut across the open expanse of the lawn and to the back door.

I watch the windows to see if there’s anyone up there, watching us—maybe even a camera blinking in the light to announce its presence. But there’s nothing, nothing that I can see, and I wave to call Emil along behind me. He catches up at once, and the two of us pause outside the back door. We lock eyes, and he nods—and I lift my foot and slam it into the paneled wood, sending a shuddering crack through the whole wall.

“Someone will have heard that,” Emil mutters, as I pull my foot back and land another blow against the door. It buckles again, a loud splintering sound emerging from the straining wood, and I try one more kick—and it flies open.

But as soon as it’s off its hinges, we’re faced with another problem. Three guards—the one who was on the door, and two others who must have heard us making our entrance. I lift my gun and fire a shot at the one closest to us, hitting him point-blank in the chest and sending him smashing into the oppositewall. Emil moves to my side, leveling his weapon and firing two shots, one after the other.

The first hits one of the advancing guards in the shoulder, and he grunts, his arm twisting back painfully—but the other flies over his head, leaving us with another guard to deal with.

This one lunges toward Emil, trying to knock the gun out of his hand, but Emil sidesteps and sends him sprawling over the threshold of the door we just took off its hinges. I turn to fire off a shot and get him in the leg, drawing a howl of pain from between his lips.

Turning to Emil, I grit my teeth. “Split up. Upstairs, I’ll take down. Go. Now!”

He doesn’t wait for another command—he takes off toward the stairs that are visible through the open door of the kitchen. A couple of men have already found their way there to block him, and one brandishes a knife as Emil rushes him.

“Over here!” Emil yells, drawing the man’s attention—and he looks over, giving me just enough time to shoot him before Emil reaches him. He knocks the man behind him onto the stairs, and Emil pounces on the knife, snatching it up and driving it roughly into his chest before he takes off up the stairs.

All I can hear is the blood pumping in my veins, the adrenaline coursing through my system—but I know I need to act fast. Now that things have kicked off, it will only be a matter of time before all of Maglione’s men descend on this place, and I want to be as far away from here as I can be by the time that happens.

Preferably with Katie at my side.

I search the living room and kitchen, calling out her name—no point playing it stealthy now. Five guards down, but how many more might there be? That could be it…or, there could be someone else, someone who’s taking their time and stalking us until they can pick us off, one by one.

I notice a door next to the kitchen—a lock hangs open on it, and I push it open. But before I can so much as get a look at what’s happening down there, a man barrels out of the darkness toward me.

He knocks me off my feet, sending me crashing to the ground with a grunt. I wriggle out from underneath him before he can get a grip on me, scrabbling back and pulling myself to my feet. Before he can stand up to face me, I slam a kick into his face, and he flies sideways.

A pool of blood smears on the ground as his nose begins to bleed profusely. I’m breathing hard, my gun knocked out of my pants, with nothing more than my fists to rely on. But I am handy in a fight, and I’ll be damned if I let this fucker stop me getting what I?—

“Help!Help!”

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