Page 19 of Dangerous King (Savage Kings of New York #2)

I have no idea what came over me or what happened to my mind, but for a crazy second, I was about to kiss those full, bow-shaped lips so freely offered to me.

I didn't stop because we are in the middle of a store, or because my sister is here.

No, I only stopped because of the innocence in her gaze.

The realization that this girl has never been kissed before, and certainly not in the way I'd kiss her, hits me like a sledgehammer.

Followed by another fact, slamming into me, heavier than the first: She's nineteen.

Not even old enough to drink legally. The same age as Izzy.

I'm thirty.

And yet… I want to bend her over the ridiculous designer display and fuck her into oblivion.

A muscle jumps in my jaw. A pulse hammers against my neck, and possessiveness overcomes me from out of nowhere.

The urge to pick her up and carry her someplace where we can be alone is so strong that beads of sweat roll down the nape of my neck from fighting against it.

This is madness.

And yet, here we are.

My cock is getting so hard, I shift from foot to foot.

I want her.

Like nobody before.

My phone hasn't stopped ringing since I left the mansion.

Silvano is cursing me out, and so are my brothers, whose phones are going off the hook as well.

Edoardo is demanding my presence at his place.

Fuck him. My father is doing the same. He doesn't know yet what took place last night, only that I'm accused of killing Giovanni and Ringo and burning the Giordano house down.

I also need to deal with Kingsley, who is still locked in his hotel room and guarded by my men. Fires are burning all around me, and here I am, shopping with my sister and her new best friend. Worse, I'm enjoying myself doing so.

If somebody held a gun to my head, I wouldn't be able to tell them why, nor would I be able to explain the magnetic pull between Cat and me.

She's so close, I can smell the scent of magnolias in her hair, see the freckles on her nose.

Watch her pupils dilate in fear, knowing something is wrong, even before the first shots ring out.

Instinct slams into me like a freight train.

With a curse, I tackle her to the ground, tackling Izzy, who luckily is within easy reach, at the same time.

The sales lady who rang us up isn't so lucky; her body pivots violently as multiple shots hit it.

"Stay down," I yell at Cat and Izzy. "Crawl over there," I point at the Employees Only sign as I roll over, grabbing my gun from its holster underneath my jacket.

Fuck , I should have known better than to take the girls shopping the day after I took Giovanni.

And to the fucking mall at that. Two of my men are already down.

Manollo's bleeding, but he's firing back from a crouch behind a wallet display.

Oscar's ducking return fire from behind a jewelry case.

We're too exposed and boxed in. This is a tactical failure.

"Reform the line!" I shout. "Oscar, left flank! Cover the glass!" "Manollo, I want suppression fire at the northeast entrance!"

"Flavio, fall back, protect the rear corridor!" I shout out orders while I try to figure out how to gain the upper hand.

My men move like the well-trained guards they are, but this is still a mess.

More glass explodes as three more gunmen rush in.

I fire without hesitation, loving the Staccato's power—two hostiles drop instantly.

Oscar clips the third. The girls are crawling just like I told them to, Cat shielding Izzy like she's made of iron and willpower.

I spot Izzy snatch the purse she'd been eyeing and press it to her chest like it's sacred.

If I weren't so pissed, I'd laugh. Cat is putting an arm protectively around her, as if her small arm would stop a bullet.

It doesn't escape me how protective she is of Izzy.

"You okay, boss?" Manollo grunts as he limps into position beside me.

"How many?" I bark.

"Too many," Oscar replies, switching mags. "They're moving in coordinated waves."

They're fucking trained.

"Fuck, boss!" Manollo shouts, throwing himself over me, just as I see a grenade flying by. I yank a display rack down as makeshift cover. Purses rain like shrapnel. The blast deafens me. Cotton fills my ears. My vision narrows.

You're the weapons dealer, Enrico. Act like it.

I shove the wreckage off me and get to my feet. "Get the girls! Clear a back corridor! We're not having them questioned by mall cops on TikTok."

"Boss!" Oscar shouts as another wave bursts through the side entrance. I shoot two. A bullet from the third grazes my shoulder. I growl, pivot, and drop him with a bullet to the eye.

My clip runs dry.

"Cover!" I yell, grabbing another magazine from my vest, slamming it home one-handed. Then I see him, another shooter flanking us near the luggage display.

No time.

I bull-rush him like a fucking freight train, take an elbow across the ribs— doesn't matter — only to slam him through the glass wall of the store next door.

The bastard shrieks as shards punch into his back. I lift him again, just to slam him down harder until he stops moving.

"Boss!" Oscar's voice again. "There are more. Inside."

I reload. My breathing is tight, and my fucking shoulder burns. "I told you to take the girls."

"Manollo's got ‘em. Said you'd need backup more than they needed babysitting."

I grunt. There are too many of these fuckers to keep them back by myself. That thought is proven as another shot zips between us.

"That was close," Oscar mutters.

We answer with synchronized fire, tearing into the rack the bastard's hiding behind. Another explosion rips out, throwing me into the air as smoke rises up all around me. I land hard, glass biting into my side. They brought a fucking army.

I roll, empty the third clip into the next threat. Three men down before they hit the floor. Oscar groans, getting up on all fours. I spot movement behind him—three men entering from the shattered window—M4s raised.

Not today. I align the Staccato and drop all three with clean headshots before I drag Oscar up by the collar.

"Copy that," he mutters, fingers going to his earpiece. "Manollo says the cops are en route."

"Tell him to get the girls out the back. Keep it clean. Use exit protocol two."

Oscar relays it and nods once. My mind is already racing. This wasn't just a hit. This was an operation. Military-style.