Page 111 of My Daddy Is An Ex-Con

Guns, ammo, bulletproof vests, binoculars—they grab everything.

Lazaro yanks Faro and Giosuè out of their rooms. "Come on."

Faro isn’t sure what’s happening. "I’m playing video games."

"The Riccardis kidnapped Mattie."

Giosuè's eyes narrow. "Oh hell no. Not my partner in crime."

Faro roars as he tugs a stash of bullets out of a locked cabinet.

He tossed a pink Glock to Giosuè—both boys opt to use their sparkly pink weapons—before racing toward the helicopter.

Marcello whips around to face me before the chopper takes off. "We’ll fight like hell to find him. When we do, we’ll let you know exactly where he is—take your sports car. You’ll reach him before us."

Anger pulses behind my temples. "I can’t believe I let this happen."

"Don’t blame yourself," Lazaro roars over the whir of the chopper’s blades.

"It was Vincenzo, Amadeo, and Tommaso’s partners' faults," Giosuè shouts.

Enzo puts his hands on his hips. "We already said we didn’t realize anything was the matter. The second we did, we alerted Medici."

My heart slams in my chest as I think about Mattie with the Riccardis. We don't know for sure that they took him—but I’m pretty fucking certain.

They were supposed to be dead. Burnt to a crisp. Incinerated in the last explosion.

They’re not.

Now, they have my boy.

Poor, sweet Mattie. Emotion claws at me as I think about our trip to Rome. We’re supposed to leave tonight—our reservation is at nine-thirty. I was going to wine and dine him, take him to the Archeological Park, walk around the ruins under the moonlight—kiss him by the Trevi Fountain.

If I rescue Mattie quickly, we can still go on our trip.

When I’m satisfied that my brothers won’t fuck things up, I leave them in peace.

With a roar, I race toward my sports car and leap into the front seat.

My brothers lift off and soar through the air.

My sports car’s engine screams to life, telling me she’s ready to rock and roll.

From the backseat, I grab my automatic rifle and brush a speck of dust off her as I aim her at an olive tree for target practice.

Bang.

The bullet that flies out slices the bark off the tree.

Shards of brown soar into the air before clattering against Nonna’s fence.

That’s when my phone buzzes.

Santino:We caught sight of a black van heading toward the warehouse district

Lazaro:Our infrared device shows that the occupants are packing heat

My fingers clench my steering wheel.

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