Page 41 of His Wicked Wants (West Coast Mobsters #6)

CHAPTER 38

NERO

“Hold!” Pedretti shouts, just before my finger tightens on the trigger. I thank God for his quick command, because from the side of the pool house Sandro Castellani emerges with Teddy at his side, his arm wrapped protectively around his lover’s waist. “We need to mount a defense,” he says without preamble, his voice tight with barely controlled rage. “They dare attack my home, my Family?—”

“Get in the pool house,” Pedretti says calmly.

“I need to be out there,” Sandro snaps, frustrated, even as his grip on Teddy tightens. “I should be defending Redwood?—”

“No, Boss. You’re getting into the pool house with Teddy, here, and bunkering down while you let the rest of us handle this.”

“The hell I am.” But I notice how Sandro’s body unconsciously shifts to shield Teddy from potential threats, even as he argues.

This time Jack steps forward. “Can’t let you put yourself in danger, Boss,” he says regretfully. “And you have responsibilities here too.” His meaningful glance at Teddy says what he won’t voice aloud.

I think of Gabriel somewhere in that sprawling house, unprotected, and my heart constricts. But I force myself to focus, to help Sandro see what needs to be done. “You’re torn between two duties,” I tell him. “Protecting your Family and protecting your lover. But you can’t do both, not right now. And one of those duties can only be done by you.”

“Don’t tell me what my duty is,” Sandro snarls, but there’s less heat in it now. His eyes meet Teddy’s, and something unspoken passes between them.

I remember Teddy’s words, so confident: Alessandro will always protect me . Looking at them now, I can see that confidence wasn’t misplaced. Teddy is safe in Sandro’s care, while Gabriel…

My throat tightens. I’m failing him. I’m leaving him to face this danger alone.

“You’re not the only one with someone you love in danger,” Jack tells Sandro sharply. “The best thing you can do right now is protect your people here. Your allies are currently holed up in this goddamn pool house, and they need someone who can stand up for them.”

“He’s right,” Teddy pipes up. “Alessandro—please. Jack is right. We should stay here and protect the people who need protecting.”

Sandro looks down at Teddy, then at the pool house where frightened guests huddle. His jaw works as he wrestles with his decision.

“It’s that hot blood,” I say, trying to ease his pride. “But you need a cool head right now, Don Castellani.”

“I can’t think clearly,” he mutters.

“Then let us do the thinking for you,” I tell him. “We need to contact our allies, so they can remove any entrenched enemies at the gate. How do we reach our allies with no cell phone service?” I look around the group.

“There’s a satellite phone in the security room up at the house,” Pedretti offers. “Bricker and I could head round the side entrance and go up the back stairs, fast and quiet. Easier for just the two of us. We’ll get to a phone and call for backup, then can check on the staff, make sure everyone’s safe.”

“The Espositos will stand with you,” Bricker tells Sandro. “I’ll call my mother and get her to send everyone she can.”

“I can’t ask her to stand with the Castellanis, not if this is going to be a massacre.” Sandro finally looks like he’s getting a grip on his emotions.

Bricker shakes his head. “This is my call. We can’t abandon our allies in their time of need—that’s the whole point of an alliance.”

“There is no formal alliance,” Sandro says. “Not yet.” Here he glances at me, and I wonder how much Anna-Vittoria Esposito has spilled to him about La Contessa’s bribes and offers.

The Espositos would probably have confirmed this alliance that Sandro speaks of much sooner if his mother had just kept out of it. La Contessa has done her son more harm than good with her interference. At another time, that thought might have given me a pleasant sense of schadenfreude.

But all I can think about is Gabriel.

“I don’t need a formal alliance to do the right thing,” Bricker is saying firmly. “And neither does my mother. We’re outnumbered and outgunned. The Espositos can help with both of those things.”

As he finishes, we hear a mighty roar and rapid gunfire, coming closer. All of us instinctively close ranks around Sandro, I note, even though he tries to push through.

Leo Bernardi bursts over the small rise heading down from the house, covered in blood. But it’s not his, I realize a second later. Gino Bernardi hangs across his shoulders like a sack in very fine suit.

“Jesus Christ ,” Jack breathes.

A keening sound splits the air—Roxy’s cry of horror as she recognizes her husband’s form. She lurches forward out of the pool house with Charlotte still in her arms, but I catch her, holding her back as Leo carefully lowers Gino onto one of the pool house loungers. The white cushions immediately bloom red beneath him.

“How bad?” Sandro demands. Teddy’s fingers curl reflexively on his sleeve, and Sandro’s hand covers his lover’s in automatic comfort, even as his eyes remain fixed on his injured ally.

“Caught him in the side,” Leo mutters. “Missed anything vital, I think, but he’s losing blood fast. It was PacSyn, but I saw a few Bernardis too—” He breaks off, his hands clenching into fists. “Those fucking traitors .”

“Please,” Roxy whispers, pressing Charlotte into my arms again. I take the child and watch as Roxanne runs to Gino, her wedding dress pooling around her like spilled cream as she sinks to her knees next to him. Her trembling fingers hover over his wound, not quite touching. “Baby,” she whispers. “Please.”

Gino’s eyes flutter open, finding her face. “‘M okay, babe,” he manages, though the words are slurred. “Just a scratch.”

“Have you seen my brother?” Sandro asks Leo sharply.

“Saw him up at the house. But we split up again right away—got a little competition going to see who can take out the most of these fuckers.” He takes in Sandro’s face. “You know he can take care of himself, Boss. No need to worry.”

So Julian is alone out there…and he has no one watching his back.

Sandro seems more troubled than I would have expected by the fact that his half-brother is in danger.

“Surely the neighbors will have called the law by now,” I say, to change the subject.

“The neighbors know better than that,” Jack says. “And anyway, I think that’s what the early setting off of fireworks was for—plausible deniability. ‘I had no idea, officer, all I heard were fireworks.’”

Right now, half my soul is with Gabriel, and the other half is trying to decide whether this invasion is cover set up by La Contessa for her last instructions, relayed back to me as soon as I told her that Sandro was removing me from Redwood Manor.

“I gave my word.” Sandro’s voice cut through decisively, and we all look to him. Something in his posture has changed. He’s no longer agitated, no longer led by his fury. He reminds me of nothing so much as his mother, the way she draws an icy shield around herself when difficult decisions must be made. “I gave my word,” he repeats with quiet authority. “And I will not break it. The Bernardis are under my protection here. This attack is not just against Redwood, but against the very bonds between our Families.” His hand finds Teddy’s again, and I see the squeeze of reassurance. “Move Gino into the pool house with the others. I will hold this position here and protect my most important allies along with the innocents who have found themselves in the crossfire. The rest of you—” He looks around at us. Even me. “Go forth and do what needs to be done.”

“We’ll make them pay,” Leo promises.

Sandro turns to Jack, motions him closer and drops his voice. “When this is all over, we’ll have that discussion I’ve been putting off. You have my word on that, too.”

I wonder what that’s about. But I have no time to think it over. Once Gino and Roxy have been shepherded back into the pool house, and I’ve returned a frightened and silent Charlotte to her sister’s arms, Sandro and Teddy enter as well and lock the door.

That leaves Jacopo, the Lion, and Pedretti and his Esposito lover outside. There must be plenty of other Castellanis—but they are waging their own battles elsewhere on the grounds.

“I am going to the house,” I say firmly, and turn to head off, but Jack catches my arm.

“We do this together or not at all.” Jack glances at Leo Bernardi. “Feel like giving us a distraction?”

“I’ll give ’em something to fucking think about, that’s for sure.” Leo sets off, and moments later we hear shouts and shots once more.

“Let’s get moving,” Jack says, and the rest of us follow him back up the path toward the house. Halfway there, in response to his hand gestures, he and I divide from Pedretti and Bricker, who turn left to go around to the side of the house. Jack and I head into the bushes and trees for coverage before we hit the back patio.

I’m so glad Gabriel isn’t here to see the damage that’s been done so far. The bushes he once sat behind—the day, I am ashamed now to remember, that I spilled wine all over his shoes—are broken and tattered from bullets, and some trees have lost whole limbs.

As we creep toward the patio, Jack says quietly to me, “Can I trust you to have my back?”

“You can trust this: I will ensure that you reach the house,” I murmur back. “But you must promise me that if I fall, you will protect Gabriel as fiercely as you would protect Miller.”

“It’s a deal,” Jack says, and then raises his gun. He’s aiming straight at my face, but pushes me aside right before he fires. “Sorry,” he says. “Fucker was creeping up on you.”

I grin. “Should we have a competition, like Leo and Julian?”

“Killing is not something I see as a sport,” Jack says, as we move quickly onto the patio. “I just happen to be good at it.”

“You are a practical man. As for me, I enjoy seeing justice play out. These people have attacked me and my own, and I’ll happily show them the error of their ways. Duck.” I cleanly execute the man who has just come around the far corner of Redwood Manor.

“Guess we’re even,” Jack says.

But I’m struck by the sounds coming from the house—or rather, the lack of sound. “It’s too quiet. Either they’re all dead?—”

“Or the bastards are switching to stealth to track down survivors,” Jack says grimly. “Cover me, Andretti.”

And with that, he silently opens the back patio door, and we enter the kitchen.