Page 69 of Of Murder and Matrimony

“It was canceled.” Ettore shrugged, and his lifeless eyes found mine across the table. “I thought I’d eat with my family while the food is still hot.”

If Dante found his father’s actions odd, he didn’t let on. Martina breezed into the room with a large platter of shrimp scampi, placing it in the center of the table. Ettore nodded and sent her away, then reached for the white wine.

When I looked up, he was still staring at me, a warning in his intense gaze as he looked pointedly at his son before his eyes returned to me. I steeled myself, carefully crafting a mask of indifference and forcing my mind to separate from reality to make it through the meal.

Chapter Twenty-One

I was no stranger to violence and gunfire. Lately, it seemed like a new staple in my life. But no matter how often I was shot at, it still rattled me.

Tonight, I huddled behind boxes in one of our warehouses, checking how many rounds I had left in my handgun. It was supposed to be a routine visit to check on a shipment of weapons but had soon turned into a deadly stand-off, making me wish I’d never left my bed and the comforting warmth of my wife. She’d fallen asleep quickly after the awkward dinner with my father, and I hoped to greet her with another morning surprise when I returned home.

If I returned home.

The Russians popped off more shots, sending bullets ricocheting off the building’s steel beams. Behind me, Stefano returned fire. He looked formidable, with shadows accentuating the scar marring the flesh from his cheek to jaw.

I’d shot out the overhead lights, hoping for an advantage since my men knew the building better than the Russians. A red dot cut through the dim light, landing on the wall next to Stefano.

Sniper.

“Down!” I hissed, yanking the bottom hem of his suit coat and pulling him to his knees as the glass in one of the higher windows exploded, and the round narrowly missed his head.

He glanced over at me, wide-eyed, his broad chest heaving. “Thanks, boss.”

“I’d rather not clean up brain matter tonight.”

“Likewise,” Stefano agreed. “Especially my own.”

I didn’t point out that it wouldn’t be his concern if the Russians blew his head up like a watermelon. Olesya’s slip at dinner came to mind, how she’d told us her brothers often used a sniper. I pulled out my phone and sent a text to Cosimo, who would arrive shortly with backup. I had no doubt he’d be able to take care of our little rooftop problem.

I peered around the crate in front of me, surveying the situation. We’d picked off several Russians, but I knew at least two of my men were down. Others had taken shelter. The last I saw, there were at least a dozen Bratva men. I counted muzzle flashes where some had taken offensive points in the opposite corner of the building—six.

Several of them kept glancing toward a hulking motherfucker close to the entrance. Probably the brigadier. I waited for that man to reappear, aiming for where I thought he’d be.

Bingo.

His head popped up again, and I squeezed the trigger. By the time the shot echoed through the space, the brigadier’s body had started to fall, the single bullet striking true and taking him out. The Russians swore in their mother tongue, distracted enough that they didn’t notice some of my men advancing. I slinked around the crate, repositioning behind the next pallet. Our enemies were trapped in the front corner. Their leader had been covering the doorway.

It was only a matter of time before we eliminated the threat. The staccato of gunfire blasted outside the building, and I prayed it was our reinforcements and not more Russians. We wouldn’t withstand another brigade of the Bratva soldiers. How ironic that the crates we used as cover contained all the weapons we’d need to fight, but we couldn’t access any of them without risking getting our heads blown off.

I fired two more shots, setting off another round from my men. The Russians were returning fire wildly, missing marks and wasting ammunition. It was a sign of panic and inevitable defeat.

Finally, the warehouse fell silent, and shortly after, the skirmish outside ended. Still, I held my position, unable to confirm whether the threat had been fully neutralized. While I wanted to rush to the opposite corner, it would be stupid to risk my life. That’s why I had soldiers, to stand on the front lines of battle and protect the family interests.

My phone vibrated in my pocket, and I reached down to find a text from Cosimo telling me the sniper was down. I could breathe more easily with the knowledge. Fuck, my brother was the best.

“Clear!” a voice called out from the loading bay outside.

I watched as more of my men filtered through the entrance, spreading out and ensuring every Russian was down. There was no mistaking Cosimo’s form when he filled the doorway. Seeing him in a black suit rather than his preferred leather jacket was surprising.

Rising from my position, I shook the tension from my legs, keeping my weapon in hand as I strode to meet my brother.

“You couldn’t have a boring night, huh?” Cosimo smirked, holstering his gun and smacking me in the shoulder.

I rolled my eyes at his poor joke. “If it had been up to me, I’d already be back in bed with my wife.”

“Mr. Neretti.” Filippo approached solemn-faced. He clasped his hands in front of his body. “We lost a man. Four more were injured.”

“Show me.” I held a hand out, motioning for him to lead the way as I slipped my gun back into its holster.

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