Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 65054 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65054 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Then I hear Marco. A broken groan from behind a half-closed door near the back. I go toward it. Calderone comes out of the shadow with a gun in his hand and Sofia in front of him.
For one second, my mind refuses to process what I’m seeing. She was behind me. Bradley was with her.
Then I see Bradley on one knee in the hall behind them, bleeding from the side of his head, trying to lift his gun and failing.
Sofia’s face is white. Calderone has one arm around her chest and the barrel of his gun pressed under her jaw. Everything in me stops.
“Drop it,” Calderone says.
I do. The gun hits the floor. He smiles.
Sofia’s eyes lock on mine. She is terrified. She is also furious.
“Sofia,” I say quietly.
Calderone tightens his arm. “Don’t talk to her.”
I keep my eyes on hers. “You’re okay.”
She gives me the smallest look that says, No, I am obviously not okay.
Calderone shifts his weight, dragging her backward toward the hallway.
“You built an impressive machine, Vieri. I’ll give you that. But every machine has a weak point.”
Sofia’s gaze drops to her feet. Her heel is near Calderone’s instep. I see the decision before she moves.
“Do it,” I tell her.
She drives her heel down hard onto Calderone’s foot and throws her head back at the same time, hard enough to make him release her. The gun jerks away from her jaw.
Bradley’s gun is on the floor within reach. I grab it as Sofia twists sideways, making herself small and furious and impossible to hold. Calderone raises his weapon again. I shoot him once in the wrist.
He screams.
Sofia drops to the floor, covering her head with her hands.
I shoot him again in the chest. Calderone hits the floor on his back, eyes wide. A pathetic death for a pathetic man. No less than he deserved. I stand over him until he stops moving.
Sofia is on the floor, back up against the wall, shaking so hard she can barely sit upright.
I reach her and drop to my knees. “Are you hit?”
She shakes her head.
“Sofia.”
“I’m not hit,” she says, and then she breaks.
I pull her into my arms.
“I’m sorry,” she cries. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have left. I shouldn’t have gotten in the car.”
“It’s okay.”
“I ruined everything.”
“No.” I pull back enough to take her face in my hands. “You were scared and angry. You’re not the one who betrayed me. All I care about is that you’re okay.”
She cries harder. I press my forehead to hers. “My dad,” she whispers.
I stand and pull her up with me, keeping one arm around her. “Let’s go get him.”
Rafe reaches us then, blood on his cheek that doesn’t seem to be his. He looks at Sofia once, then at me, and some of the strain leaves his face.
“Marco?” he asks
“He’s just down this hallway,” I say.
Sofia makes a sound and starts forward. I keep my arm around her, but I don’t try to stop her.
He’s on the floor, barely conscious, hands still loosely tied in front of him. His face is swollen and bruised, blood leaking from his mouth. His breathing is rough but steady.
Sofia drops beside him. “Papa.”
His eyes flutter open.
It takes him a second to focus. “Sofia?” he whispers.
“I’m here.” She reaches for him, then stops like she is afraid of hurting him. “I’m here.”
His gaze moves to me.
Shame passes over his battered face before pain swallows it. “Get her out,” he rasps.
“I’m getting both of you out.”
He tries to argue. He doesn’t have the strength.
I crouch beside him. “Marco, I’m going to lift you.”
“I can walk,” Marco mutters.
“No, you can’t,” Sofia and I say at the same time.
I slide one arm behind Marco’s back and the other beneath his knees. He groans when I lift him, and Sofia flinches like she feels it in her own body.
“Easy,” she whispers.
“I’ve got him,” I tell her.
Rafe clears the path out. His men have the building secured, or close enough. I carry Marco through the club, past broken glass and bodies and blood and the wreckage of a family betrayal I’ll process when Sofia isn’t shaking beside me.
Outside, Bradley has the car waiting at the back entrance, blood dried at his temple and murder still in his eyes.
“Dr. Greco is waiting at the penthouse,” he tells me.
“Good.”
Sofia gets in first. I lower Marco carefully across the seat, his head near her lap. She touches his hair with shaking fingers, whispering to him in Italian too soft for me to catch.
I climb in beside them.
Rafe leans through the open door. “I’ll clean this up.”
I nod.
Sofia doesn’t let go of Marco’s hand for the entire drive. I don’t take my eyes off her.
Chiara is waiting by the elevator with Dr. Greco and two medical bags when we arrive at my building. The second she sees Sofia, she covers her mouth and starts crying.