Page 98 of Unwilling Vow (Mafia Marriages 4)

But the silence can only last so long. We sneak in through the front door, uninvited. From the opposite end of the building, there’s a rash of gunfire that erupts, sending our mission from silent to deadly.

Not just deadly for Caruso’s men, but ours as well.

I direct half of the soldiers with me to head toward the gunfire and protect our men. The other half follows as we sweep the first floor, room by room, taking out anyone who stands in our way with a weapon.

There are casualties of war. Luka has no family, no wife or children that I worry about endangering. But that doesn’t mean there aren’t innocent people forced by his hand beneath this roof. He dabbles in many illicit and illegal ventures, whether any of them involve women or children, I don’t know.

I can’t let rational thought dictate my commands.

Luka is a monster who must be stopped. “This way,” I order my soldiers to follow me up the stairs.

There’s no sign of Don Caruso on the first floor.

We will find him, and he’ll be forced to pay for his sins when we do. His death will be swift, and while it would give me pleasure torturing the bastard who has been tormenting my family, most of all, I want him dead.

Several guards are at the top of the landing, waiting for us.

We shoot to kill. Aiming from one man to the next. The guards aren’t wearing any type of Kevlar, and they don’t have semi-automatic weapons as we attack. It makes the shoot an easier kill.

They weren’t expecting us.

Good.

Before we breach the second floor, I reload my gun, sweeping room by room for guards or anyone armed with a weapon. While our goal is to take out Don Caruso, anyone who stands in our way is a threat.

The rooms on the second floor are empty as we check the closets, under the bed, the bathrooms, and behind the shower curtain, anywhere that a coward like Caruso might hide.

On to the next room.

As we reach the final door near the second set of stairs that go back down, I lead the way inside.

A canister of CS gas is tossed at us, filling the room and permeating out into the hallway with the door left ajar.

Gunfire erupts from all directions. I can’t see the men, but flashes from their muzzles and the sound of gunfire gives me the general direction.

The smoke is just that, like a fog that wafts over the room. It’s slightly uncomfortable, but manageable. My men and I have built up a tolerance to repeated exposure in training my soldiers.

Two walls are covered, the third is empty.

We move fast along the third wall, shooting at the intended targets through a blanket of smoke that provides cover as we narrow in on Don Caruso. He must be here, hauled up with his guards, probably cowering in the corner.

Two of my men take a bullet, one to the chest, the other to the shoulder.

It’s dangerous the closer we get, but it doesn’t stop or slow me down. There’s no thought, just action.

Several bullets come at me. One grazes my leg. It’s a horrible shot if they intend to kill me.

I power through the pain and take out three guards. The closer I get, I can see their faces, the masks covering them from the gas.

I rip off one of their masks, forcing them to breathe in the obnoxious fumes and grip the barrel of his gun, pointing it up toward the ceiling and slamming the guard in the face with his weapon.

He coughs and wheezes from the smoke plume, and his nose drips blood from the blow to his face. It doesn’t take much for me to knock him on his ass with my fists, two blows to the face, and he’s stumbling around before his knees buckle and give way.

My men disarm two additional guards during the fight, and behind me is the distant sound of footsteps.

Reinforcements.

Are they Caruso’s men or mine?

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