Page 41

Chapter twenty-nine

Shits and Fans

Eoghan

C osima was a fucking idiot. I don’t know how else to say it.

As intelligent and brilliant as she might be, I realized that at this moment, she was an absolute fucking nightmare.

We had taken out all of her guards, as planned, and our demolition experts were taking apart landmines, while the rest of us provided security, sniping anyone who tried to take them out.

When that was done, we’d marked the path, as planned, entered the gates, and started to fight our way in.

But the landmines, which we assumed were on the outside , didn’t seem to stop at the compound perimeter.

No, she’d boobytrapped the inside of her house as well.

O’Malley was to my right, his rifle up, his team coming in behind him, ready to enter a room when the door completely exploded in his face, knocking him off of his feet. He was thrown six feet into the air, his body splayed on the ground.

“Fuck!” I said, “O’Malley!”

“I’m fine!” he groaned, his body shifting side to side like he was a turtle, upside down on its shell. “Gotta catch my wind.”

“For fuck’s sake, stay down, lad,” I said, “You probably got your bell rung. Stay down, and cover us from the rear.”

“I’m good,” he said, and I yelled at him to follow his fucking orders.

Damn gung-ho, hard-charging, eager motherfuckers. He needed to sit for a moment or two, at least.

I peered into the doorway, seeing the grand dining room. The walls were painted a Tuscan orange, and ivy crawled up the walls, decorating the frames of the windows. The tabletop was a brightly colored mosaic, harkening to a summer Italian villa.

I kept my gun sweeping from left to right, my eyes following the targets. I felt a bullet whizz by my head. One of my team fired, and whoever the shooter was went down. Then a barrage of gunfire went overhead, I ducked down behind the nearest table, and I felt the screams of men who were shot.

I fired, and two guards went down. I assumed they were guards, though they wore business suits. The guns in their hands told me they weren’t there to hash out a contract.

The wood in front of me splintered, and I felt the sting of something on my cheek.

I didn’t have time to inspect it, as pain seared into my face.

If I could move, and I could think, then I could still fight.

“Who’s down?” I asked.

“Three down,” Flanagan said. I was relieved to hear her voice. “Murphy, stay back and treat them, yeah?”

Murphy answered in the affirmative.

I looked to her for a split second, just long enough to see her nod at me, letting me know she was ready to go on.

In my ear, I heard Jericho say that they had gotten the exterior perimeter secured and were coming in from the other side of the house, clearing their way through the garage, the kitchen, and into the front foyer.

“Push through!” I yelled, as I led the way down the narrow corridor that I knew would lead to the interior office.

Eugenio Durante’s office.

“Tell us when you’re at the office door,” Yuliya said into my ear again. “Our spy on the inside said they’ve closed a secure metal door that's locked from the inside. Bulletproof. We’re working on how to open it now.”

I barely had time to absorb what she said, as another man popped around a corner and attempted to fire. I got him first, his bullet aiming high, but ricocheting off the wall, and I felt it graze against my armor. The scent of burning cloth infiltrated my nostrils.

I had no idea how many had been killed by now. Dozens? Hundreds? We had killed fifty alone when the first mine exploded. Stupid-fucking-Durante.

More mines had gone off, killing people on both sides.

There had been a mad rush to stop us from entering the house, and I didn’t know how many of them were left. All I knew was that I had to trust that our plan was solid.

“They’re holed up with Cosima—Eugenio, the child, one nanny, and one housekeeper,” Yuliya announced.

“No guards?” I asked, confused.

“None, but assume they are armed.”

How strange.

When we reached the door, I stopped, looking at the small, engraved single door that had the emblem of a lion’s face in profile emblazoned along it. Ostentatious, really. But the Durantes were like that.

“I’m here,” I said to Yuliya over the comms.

“We have to cut the power,” Yuliya said, her voice transporting into another line, outside of the command line. I could tell because the background noise was a little different. “Do not panic when the lights go out.”

Just as she said it, the place darkened. There were shouts, screams, and more bullets, as somewhere up or down the corridor people panicked.

Anticipating a smaller room, I slung my rifle and switched to my pistol, holding it out in front of me.

“Door will open in 3…2…” Yuliya said.

She’d barely finished her count when a hiss of the door unlocking sounded.

I grabbed the door knob as a metal interior door slid to the side.

I stepped in, pistol up, meeting the barrel of a Desert Eagle, and the livid face of Cosima Durante as my men filed in, surrounding the room, taking positions at the four corners, their guns pointing at the frightened occupants who huddled under a large oak desk.

“Fancy seeing you here, Cosima,” I said with fake joviality.

“Goodbye, Green,” she said, just as she pulled the fucking trigger.