Page 123 of Where Wild Hearts Dance
“Not happening,” Nicolò almost chuckles. “Santa only gives presents to the nice kids.”
Lorenzo’s top lip curls. “I wasn’t asking you,asshole.”
Cristiano’s response starts as a low rumble, the words initially difficult to make out, but they become way clearer with context. “You murdered Gio, my late father’s best capo. Then you took my brother’s driver, while mywifewas in the back seat of thefuckingcar.” His jaw is steady but I’ve never seen a body so tense it could slice through an iceberg. “You took our informant, skinned him alive and left his corpse to weep blood all over the Connecticut River. You took our underworldabove groundyou fuckingimbecile.”
The air thickens with bated breaths.
“That’swhy we took Newark,” Cristiano says, with a sharp tip of his head. “Because you can’t be fucking trusted with it.”
“Nice speech,” Lorenzo grits out. “Shame it isn’t going to save you and your new family.”
Everything happens slowly but then again, too quickly for me to keep up.
“Fuck this,” Benito mutters under his breath. Then, before I realize what he’s doing, he’s pressing a hand into my back. “Stay down,” he growls.
One of the guns swings toward him as he straightens up, but Benito’s too fast. His bullet flies through the air and pierces the chest of the Marchesi closest to us.
The man falls to the ground, then hell descends.
For the second time today, a gun spins toward me—it has slipped from Benito’s victim’s grip—and this time my shaking hands don’t hesitate to reach out and grab it. The threat in the room now is far worse than the threatof Federico. Fed wouldn’t have killed me, but these guys wouldrelishit.
In the corner of my eye, Bambi flies toward me, crouching behind my back as I extend my arms. I rise to my knees and lift one leg so I have a foot on the ground.
Cristiano fires a bullet toward his target but Lorenzo is too fast and ducks out of the way. Another bullet sails past Cristiano and screams ring out from the edge of the room. Augie’s aim catches the other brother on the shoulder, then more bullets rain into the room from the terrace.
There’s more of them?
My heart hitches as Benito runs to the doors, arms outstretched, right into the middle of the chaos.
My instinct to turn my head to the side is strong but I have as much blood in this game as he does, so I keep my focus, and the borrowed pistol, trained on the doors.
More bullets fall like snowflakes through the terrace doors and Benito ducks them like it’s a dance he’s been performing since kindergarten. My heart expands like a balloon when I remember that hehasbeen doing this shit since he was a kid.
Bambi screams in my ear and grabs my dress in her small fists. “Tess, we gotta go. Tess, comeon.”
“I’m not leaving him,” I say firmly.
“What?” Her voice is breathy with terror.
“I’m not leaving Benito.”
Cristiano has thrown his gun to one side and is head-to-head with Lorenzo, their hands around each other’sthroats. It’s clear from their drawn faces and whitened knuckles, this conflict goes backyears.
Benito is firing bullets onto the terrace with Nicolò at his back, the remaining Marchesi brother is running, his gun held aloft defensively.
Then a scream drags everyone’s attention back to the hustle in the center of the room.
Lorenzo Marchesi has a gun driven into Cristiano’s jaw, his finger poised on the trigger, an eerily satisfied smirk on the summit of his lips.
“No…” Trilby’s whisper shakes the room.
Benito spins around, having terminated whatever risk existed on the terrace, and his jaw falls open.
The room is deathly silent—everyone awaiting the click of the Marchesi’s trigger, ending the life of his rival don, my sister’s new husband.
I feel Benito’s gaze land on me and the gun in my hands feels heavy and lethal. I have it aimed right at Lorenzo’s head. The implication in my boyfriend’s eyes is unequivocal. I have the aim. I don’t need to move. I could kill. All I need to do is pull the trigger.
The gun shakes as I extend my finger then press it gently into the thin, curved strip of metal. My head feels light, as though I haven’t taken a breath indays. I’ve never fired a gun in my life. And the one time I have the opportunity, a man associated with my mama’s murder just happens to be the target. It couldn’t be more serendipitous. Yet, I can’t quite go all the way.
