Chapter 23

Aldo

My feet pounded soft earth, boots sinking into rain-softened dirt. Cool night whipped my face, cut the breath in my lungs into sharp bursts as I raced across the sprawling estate. Faster than I’d maybe ever sprinted before.

I was running out of time.

Ahead, a silver shimmer marked the lake that set the southern border of the Marcello estate. I’d never been so glad for such an inescapable natural boundary. And yet, my quarry was escaping.

I lengthened my stride. I couldn’t fail again.

Between a veil of maple trees, placid waters stretched in a smooth sheet beneath the full moon. I was so close. Through the screen of trunks and leaves, I caught sight of three figures on the beach. So very fucking close.

Two of the figures on the shore were men.

My boots thundered on the dirt, carrying me towards the trees. Closer. Closer.

Between the two men, a smaller figure bobbed between them. A little boy.

I pushed harder.

Almost there.

“We’ve got them cornered!” Carlo’s barked voice came through the branches a few hundred yards ahead. He’d beat me to the trees along the lake’s edge. An answering echo of boots and voices marked more of my men, scattered through the woods. Those rhythmic boots were the soundtrack to our pursuit.

I pushed harder.

I wouldn’t let them get away. Not this time. Not with Eli. Not when Layla was depending on me. Not when I’d promised her everything would be okay.

This was one promise I wasn’t going to break.

“They’re trying to take a boat!” someone else yelled. “The kid’s fighting, but they’ll get him on.”

Through the trees, I marked the wriggle of the smaller body, the way he bucked against the hold of the larger men. Fighting was putting it mildly. He was like a feral animal, giving it everything he had, like he knew his life was on the line.

Keep fighting, Eli, I begged. If he kept that up, he’d buy us the time we needed to get into position, make a plan. Stage an attack.

We could still save him.

My gun found its way into my hand again as I tore through the trees to the very edge, where forest met sand. I paused behind the trunk of an oak and peered out to the men and the boy on the shoreline.

Shit.

This wouldn’t be as easy as I’d thought.

“They’re using the kid as a shield,” Carlo muttered, appearing beside me. “We’ll have to go in close.”

“Dammit.” I scraped a hand down my face. Going in close meant walking out of the safety of the trees. Making ourselves utterly vulnerable. Giving them the chance to shoot us, point-blank.

I didn’t like that one bit.

They had the upper hand—and the unhurried way they fought to get Eli into a boat—they knew it. They knew we couldn’t shoot without risking Eli. Couldn’t go after them without risking ourselves.

Carlo knew it as much as I did. “What’s the move, boss?”

It was my call, of course it was. Let the boy go? Risk my men? Risk a shot? Bad options all around.

Nobody wanted to make this kind of fucking decision.

Layla’s panicked face made its way into my mind’s eye. Eyes too wide. Skin paper-white. Mouth drawn in a tight line. Those shallow, frantic breaths wheezing from her lungs.

There was no choice. Never had been. “We’ll move in.”

I went first, hand on my gun. Boots silent, I slipped out from the trees and onto the sand.

My men fell in beside me, where they were meant to be. Guns lifted, we approached the men on the shoreline.

“Leave the kid,” said Carlo, taking point, “And nobody has to get hurt. We’ll let you go.”

A lie, but a pretty one. My fingers wrapped tighter around the grip.

“Don’t come any closer.” The taller of the two men yanked Eli in front of him. The other shoved the boat into the water.

“We’re only here for the boy,” I said, lifting one hand up from my gun in a show of surrender. “I don’t want to shoot anyone.”

The click of a gun safety was the only warning we got.

Two shots cracked.

One of my men fell.

A groans echoed through the darkness from where he lay, fallen, in the sand.

“We’re not fucking around.” The man gave Eli a shake for emphasis. “Get away or I’ll shoot again.”

“Fall back!” I barked to the men around me. “That’s an order.”

As one, we shifted back. One step. Two. The intruder kept Eli squarely in front of him while his cohort finagled with the boat.

My men and I found the safety of the trees.

The boat slid into the water.

“Shit,” Carlo muttered. “They’re getting away.”

My teeth gritted so hard pain ricocheted through my jaw. I didn’t risk so much as a blink’s distraction.

I would not let them get away. “He’s going to turn to put the kid into the boat.”

“Shit, Vas,” Carlo groaned, because he knew what I was thinking. We’d worked together long enough, played together before that. He knew what I was fucking thinking. “You can’t be serious.”

My teeth gritted again. “I’m serious.”

“But the kid—”

The assassin nudged back a step, dragging Eli with him. It was now or never, and I wasn’t letting him take that boy.

“On my count …”

“Shit, Vas.”

“Three—”

The intruder took one final careful step backwards, pulling Eli with him.

“Two—”

His grip on Eli tightened.

“One—”

He spun, thrusting Eli towards the boat—

“Now!”

I squeezed the trigger.

Crack! Crack!

Carlo and I shot in sync.

Two shots rang out. Severing the stillness of the night. Punching through the heavy tension turning the air solid.

On the shore, all three bodies dropped. The boat rocked wildly as the first assassin collided with the side. Hovered, balanced precariously—before he pitched face-first beneath the silver moon-etched water.

The second toppled straight backwards into the sand. Spread-eagle, limbs akimbo. Half-spent gun skittering across the water-packed sand.

The third tiny body dropped straight down beside the second.

“Eli,” I hissed, my heart suddenly wedged into my throat. Had I hit him? Had I miscalculated? Had—

But, no. He wasn’t down. He was crouched. Hands over head.

Cowering in terror.

Relief unlocked my lungs, letting breath balloon my chest. My head spun with the sudden influx of oxygen. When had I stopped breathing? When had panic clutched my body in a vice?

I shoved my gun into the waistband of my pants and started forward onto the beach towards the terrified little boy.

“Eli!” The woman’s scream cut through the night, so much more piercing, so much more brutal, than all those gunshots. “Eli!”

Her voice echoed across the water, through my head, into my heart.

Her thudding feet pounded through the trees, and she burst onto the beach. Hair steaming behind her like a pale ghost, face ragged with terror.

She wore only a short white night dress.

Her bare feet left tiny prints in the sand as she raced down the beach.

“Eli.” She collided with the tiny form crouched at the water’s edge, her arms whipping around him in the ultimate safety of a mother’s embrace. “Oh, Eli.”

When her blue gaze tilted up towards me, I knew it wasn’t gratitude reflected in that burning stare.

This night was far from over.