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The corridors are dimly lit, lined with crates and scattered furniture. The stench of sweat and gunpowder hangs thickly in the air, nauseating me. Two guards round the corner, taking me by surprise.
Instinctively, my gun reaches out towards them and I shoot the first in the chest, the second in the leg before finishing him off with a second shot.
A door at the end of the hall swings open. I raise my gun, but it’s Mallory. Her face is streaked with tears and dirt, her eyes wide with terror. She’s tied at the hands and gagged at the mouth. Only her legs are free.
I rush forward, cutting her free. “How many men are in there?”
She shakes her head.
A sharp yell echoes. Reflex spins me around immediately. A man stands in the doorway, eyes widening at the sight of us. He turns and shouts, calling for backup.
I shove Mallory toward my men. “Get her out of here!”
Then they come.
Six men flood in from a door to my right, two guns raised while the others have their fists clenched. The first swings at me, I duck, but pain lances through my side as I twist. I ignore it, driving my fist into his ribs. Another comes at me from the left side. I take the hit, my vision flickering, but I manage to grab his collar and smash his head against the wall. Blood spatters.
A punch slams into my gut, knocking the air from my lungs. Another fist clips my jaw. I stagger, my grip on my gun loosening. One of the men tackles me, sending us both crashing to the ground. Hands claw at my throat, squeezing. I thrash, pain screaming through my body, but I plant my feet and push, flipping us over.
My fingers contact something sharp, and a cruel smile wraps itself around my lips as I grab a shard of glass from the ground and drive it into his neck. Hot blood spurts over my hands.
Three more left!
One aims his gun, but I’m faster. I lunge at him, knocking it aside. A shot goes off, grazing my arm. White-hot pain explodes, but I don’t stop. I slam my elbow into his temple, then grab hishead and twist until I hear the crack in his neck. The next one gets a knee to the groin and a bullet to the skull.
The last man hesitates just a second too long. I seize the opportunity to fire. He drops with a full thud.
Breathing hard, I stagger toward the door on my right, which the six wasted men came in from. Just as I walk through, I see Karl, with his hands and feet tied, the only living person amidst all the dead bodies. His face looks untouched except for a busted lip. Relief washes over me as I cut his restraints. I can’t remember ever feeling so thankful for a cop’s survival.
“Come on,” I rasp, but before I can take a step, the world tilts. My knees buckle. Darkness rushes in, and the last thing I hear is Karl calling my name before everything goes black.
***
I’ve never been this restless. My arm and side are wrapped in bandages from last night, but that isn’t the cause of my restlessness.
Everything seems to be falling apart. And it’s driving me insane.
Every step I take around the length of my study adds to the frustration rising in my chest. My fingers rake through my hair as a gush of air forces itself from my nostrils. The last few days have been filled with pure chaos.
Aria has become a completely different person. I know she wants me to stay the hell away from her, but I just don’t know if I can, at least not with what she’s discovered.
My phone buzzes violently on the desk, rattling against the wooden surface. There’s no caller ID but a foreboding feeling seizes me just as I reach for the phone.
“Elio Donatelli.” The voice is unmistakable. Marcus Winston, the CEO of ‘Comfort Hotels’ and my number one rival. We detest each other and we don’t bother hiding it.
“You’ve got five seconds, Winston. Make them count.”
His voice crashes through the speaker as he roars with laughter. “I have to say, I’m fascinated… impressed, if I must say. The great businessman, the philanthropist, New York’s golden boy. And yet, under all that polish, you’re just a thug in a suit.”
My hands find support by gripping the edge of my desk. “Say what you called for, or I’ll hang up.”
He chuckles, slow and taunting. “Oh, but I’m telling the truth right now. You see, I always knew you were a fraud; no one can be as clean as you pretend to be, and now, I have proof of who the real Elio Donatelli is. A murderer…A criminal kingpin hiding in plain sight.”
Heat crawls up my spine, but my voice holds its calm. “Cut the theatrics, Marcus. You’ve exhausted your five seconds.”
“Ah, the bravado. It’s cute,” he sneers. “But here’s the deal, Donatelli. I have something that would turn your empire into rubble. Imagine the headlines: ‘Billionaire Hotelier Exposed as Mafia Ringleader.’ I wonder how your investors, or rather, my investors which you stole from me, would react.”
The grip around my phone tightens. “You don’t fucking have the balls, Winston.”