Page 73 of Striker

"You ready, brother?" He says.

Damn, it feels good to hear him say those words.

"Let's fucking do this," I shout, booting the door and grinning as it crashes open and Smokey and I charge into the brink.

My body's on fire, my mind's sharp, my hands are steady — ready to unleash death on anyone in the way. It doesn't matter what experience our enemies have, Smokey and I are Marines, trained in this and tested by fire, and we will rain down hell on everyone in our way.

The safe house is a labyrinth of hallways and rooms, but we don't hesitate for a moment. We move fluidly, clearing each room with deadly efficiency. The Vertucci soldiers are no match for our crew, and we take them out one by one, their blood staining the walls and floors. We search each room, looking for any sign of the baby, but he's nowhere to be found.

"Where the fuck is he?" Smokey growls, frustration clear in his voice.

"We have to keep looking," I say, wiping the sweat from my forehead. "They wouldn't leave him in plain sight."

We make our way to the basement, where we find a locked door. Bullet steps forward and kicks it down with one massive blow. Inside, we find a dimly lit room with a crib in the corner. The baby is there, sleeping peacefully.

I rush forward and scoop him up, cradling him in my arms. He's small and fragile, and I can't help but feel a surge of protectiveness. This is what we've been fighting for.

"He's cute," Rook coos. "Look at that little nose. Like a button. I just want to pinch it and kiss his little face."

"Who the fuck are you?" Thunder says, staring in surprise.

"A human fucking being. I might hate all you people, but babies are innocent. They haven't grown up to be people yet. So they're pure."

"He has a point," Bullet says. "Lil guy's cute."

"We have to move," I say, turning to the others. "We can't stay here."

We make our way back upstairs, but as soon as we reach the living room, we're met with a hail of bullets and I turn, sheltering the baby with my body. Something hot sears its way across my back and I hiss in furious pain. With the kid in one hand and my gun in the other, I return fire enough to dive for cover while Smokey and the others spread out, encircling our adversaries, who are shooting in through the living room window from their position in the road.

More soldiers.

They must've been nearby. Backup. They're out there, near our motorcycles, blocking our way out.

But it doesn't matter; they're facing Marines and the Steel Reapers MC — their fates were sealed the second they picked up their guns.

"We'll go out back, circle around," Rook says, gesturing to Hawk and Ghost. "You guys keep them occupied."

I take shelter while a gunfight erupts around me.

"Hey, little Luca, keep your eyes on me," I whisper, while I rip off part of my shirt and wrap it around his head to protect his eyes and ears. All the sound, all the flashes, all the sights — especially the gunfight and the soon-to-be-dead Mafia — are way too much for him. Maybe when he's older, he can watch the mob die, maybe he can sit down and watchThe GodfatherorGoodfellas, but for now, mob violence is way too much for him.

Suddenly, there's a furious crash across the street and an explosion of timbers as Rook breaks through the neighbor's picket fence like the Kool-Aid Man, coming out right behind the Mafia soldiers, who whirl around in dumbfounded surprise.

"What's up, motherfuckers?" Rook shouts as he unleashes a fury of bullets.

Men go down, and Ghost and Hawk appear as well, blasting away with a torrent of lead.

That's the cue.

Bullet, Thunder, and Smokey charge out of cover and join the firefight, killing every man and clearing the way for me.

We get to our bikes, mounting up.

"Fuck, brother, you're bleeding bad," Smokey says as I sit astride my bike.

"Doesn't matter. We have to get to the Vertuccis. We need to save Dani," I say.

"I'll call Eliza. Have her meet us on the way. She can take the kid and patch you up. I might hate you, Owen, but I don't want you to die. And that little sweetheart should be as far away from the coming fight as possible," Rook says, already taking out his cellphone and getting on the line. "Hey, my love..."

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