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Tony shifts next to me, eyeing the table through the restaurant’s window. “Are you sure about this?”
“We don’t have a choice.” Adjusting the strap of the duffel, I turn and search his face as a breeze sweeps down the street, whipping my hair back. “You don’t have to come with me, you know that, right?”
He raises his eyebrows. “And leave you alone with the fucking Marinos? Mace would kill me.”
“This could go sideways,” I tell him. “I don’t expect you to put your life on the line for me.”
Tony laughs, shaking his head. “Sweetheart, that’s what I get paid for.”
My eyes narrow. “Call me sweetheart again, and I’ll make you eat your balls.”
“If I thought you’d follow through, I might be scared of you, but...” He holds his hand an inch over my head, lips twitching when my scowl deepens. “I’m just fucking with you, Cass. I know what you’re saying, but I’m here for you. Let me help.”
Sighing, I nod and turn toward the door, pulling my shoulders back and heading into Mamma Lucia’s. There’s nothing quite like the scent of freshly cooked pasta and bread, and the warmth of the restaurant wraps around me. There’s no comfort in it today, though. If anything, it’s irritating. Everyone is eating like the world isn’t about to crack.
The hostess beams at us, but I bypass her, ignoring her shocked inhalation and quickexcuse me. Tony murmurs something to her. The men surrounding Vito all straighten, jaws tightening as I make a pointed approach, heading straight for their boss.
One steps in front of me, the biggest of the group, who’s wearing a suit more fit for a boardroom than a thug. He juts out his chin and gives me a once-over. “Turn around, sweetheart.”
My hand falls to my pocket. “I need to talk to Vito.”
The guy glances at Tony, poking his tongue in his cheek and looking back at his guys, as if to say,you hear this broad? The guy glances at me with amusement in his gaze. “He’s busy, sweetheart.”
“Cheating on his wife, yes, I know. Move.”
His eyes narrow and he steps into my space. “Are youand I going to have a problem?” Before he reaches for his gun, I press the mini-taser to his junk. Sometimes violence is the answer.
“You’re making a scene,” I murmur, eyeing his men, who have stepped closer, and scowl. I don’t have time for this. “Step aside, or I send ninety-two million volts into your nuts.”
“You’re dead,” the guy snarls, reaching for his gun and immediately seizing up when I turn on the taser. The snaps of electricity are muffled by his pants, but he shouts in pain, causing a few people nearby to gasp and scuttle out of their chairs.
“Gun!” someone shouts. “Gun!” That sends a ripple of panic through the restaurant, and people start to run for the door.
The guy I’m tasing starts to fall, and I move with him, keeping the prongs pressed against his balls as electricity surges through his body, making him writhe. More than a few guns are pointed my way when he hits the ground.
I switch the taser off, an eerie calm coming over me, even in the face of so many weapons. Death is an old friend and it never comes for me.
“Fuck, Cassia,” Tony says, edging closer to me. “This is a good way for us to die.” The soft click of his safety has gooseflesh running down my arms.
Getting Vito’s help is probably the only chance we have of rescuing Mace from the bratva, and as crazy as it sounds, I’m willing to take my chances with death to get him back.
My attention skips to Vito, who is standing behind his table, brow furrowed. “We need to talk,” I tell him, ignoring his men closing in.
Vito shakes his head. “Kill her.”
My pulse spikes, proof that I still have some sense aboutme. But the rest of it flees when I glare at the goon who presses a gun to my head where I’m still kneeling. This guy is gorgeous, but there’s something vicious in his eyes that sends a chill through my body. His finger inches toward the trigger.
He really will kill me.
“It’s about Morozov!” I shout, cringing away from the gun.
Vito holds up a hand to steady his man. “What about that Russian fuck?”
“Tell your men to stand down,” I say, setting the taser down. “Tony?”
“This is a bad fuckin’ idea,” he growls.
Every second wasted is another second I might lose Mace. Rage grips my chest tight. “Put the fucking gun down, Tony!” I snap.