Page 53 of Brutal Vows
Rolling her eyes as if she thinks I’m being ridiculous, she kneels down next to the body in front of the sofa. She yanks the knife from his neck, wipes the blade on his jacket, and stashes it back into the hidden pocket in the skirt of her dress. She picks up his rifle, checks to make sure there’s a round in the chamber, and stands.
“You know these guys?”
Impressed by her utter calm, I say, “No. You?”
She shakes her head. “Where’s Lili?”
“Gianni’s taken her to the safe room.”
“And Mamma?”
“In the kitchen alone, drinking wine in the dark.”
She nods, as if what I’ve just told her is entirely normal. When more gunfire erupts outside, she says, “Any idea how many of them there are?”
“I counted six. Killed one in the hallway. Plus these two, that leaves three left.”
“Two.”
“How do you figure?”
“I killed another one on my way in here.”
“Of course you did.”
With a toss of her head, she flips her hair over her shoulder. “Flashed my tits at him. He froze like a deer in headlights.”
Funny how I can be insanely jealous of a dead man I’ve never met.
“How creative.”
“Men are annoyingly predictable.”
“Tits are our Achilles’ heel. Now get down to the basement with your brother and Lili. I’ll clear the rest of—”
“Oh, shut up, Quinn,” she interrupts crossly, then spins around and strides out of the room.
I have to take a moment to press a hand over my heart, which is having a seizure.
No matter how long I live, I’ll never forget the image of Reyna Caruso in a black dress and stilettos, carrying a high-caliber rifle at the ready as she heads off to hunt armed intruders, her full hips swaying and her long dark hair flaring out behind her like a flag.
I leap into action again when I hear the staccato pulse of shots fired.
Weaving around the velvet chairs and tufted divans, I headout of the room. I search five more rooms on the ground floor, each bigger than the last and seemingly used for nothing more than display of hideous furniture and frightening, religious-themed art.
All are empty.
Near the staircase in the foyer, a man clad in black combat gear lies facedown in a pool of blood. His weapon is missing. The front door stands wide open. I see three of Gianni’s guards sprint past outside, in pursuit of someone running on foot.
Several seconds later, there’s more gunfire, then some shouting in Italian that sounds celebratory.
If there were only six men who entered the property, there’s one more to go.
Reyna’s nowhere in sight, so I run up the stairs and go from room to room, checking them one by one to ensure they’re empty. When I’ve confirmed they are, I trot back down the stairs, then hurry through the remaining rooms on the ground floor. They’re all empty, too.
Then I hear an angry voice coming from a nearby salon, the last one still unsearched. It’s a voice I’d recognize anywhere.
“Go ahead, fucker. You’ll be doing me a favor. But I’ll see you again in hell, and then I’m going to cut off your balls and choke you with them.”
