Page 76 of Single Mom's Mafia Daddies
An earpiece like Renzo’s rested on the edge of the metal table. I reached for it and held it up to my ear. Voices crashed through. Matteo. Renzo. Others I didn’t know but answeredin response to Alessio. They were a unified system intent on destruction.
I had refused to hide. I reminded myself of that and dragged a chair over to the center of the console. Every screen showed me a different part of the estate. I scanned them for threats, desperate to do my part in ending the threat. Color popped on the screen to my upper left, and I focused on it. A gunfight raged, four soldiers firing at each other from their respective places. Our men hunkered down on the high brick wall. The others ducked behind a SUV and fired through the busted-out windows.
Voices rang in my ear, the gunfire a constant background noise I tried to block out so the words made sense.
“Man down on the south wall.”
“We’re taking heavy fire on the north. Anyone got eyes on the tunnels? I thought I saw an explosion over there.”
I checked the cameras near the tunnels. “Debris scattered looks like an explosion. No movement.”
“Who’s that?”
“This is Lila. I’m covering you on the cameras.” Would they respect that I’d joined the fight my own way? “West wall, you have three men approaching.” I leaned forward to double check myself. “Make that four. They’re carrying something between them.”
“On it,” a voice fired back. “Shit, boys. We got a Jessica inbound. Take them out.”
Jessica? I leaned in closer to the screen, using the toggles to zoom in. A rocket launcher came into view. They’d wrapped it in a tarp and carried it like they would a wounded comrade.
“Nice spot, Lila. Glad to have you at our backs.”
I warmed at the praise. “Stay alive, boys.”
“That’s the plan, ma’am.” The men on the west wall opened fire, and the approaching soldiers dropped. One rolled sidewaysseveral times, taking the rocket launcher with him. “Jessica’s in hiding. Keep your eyes open.”
A burst of orange fire erupted seconds later, blowing a giant hole in the west corner of the wall. Brick flew in every direction. Grit spewed into the air in a cloud of dust that obliterated my vision.
“Breach in the west wall.” I managed to keep my voice even despite the terror. “I have two men coming through. They split on the inside. Anyone available?”
“This is Benson, I’m on my way.” A man ran into view, rounding the corner from the gardens and firing off a series of shots.
I turned away from the camera long enough to check behind him, then scanned the other cameras in case of a second breach. Benson had eyes on the two men, and I let him carry the reports of their demise to his comrades.
The door behind me blew open with a thunderous boom. I covered my head with my arms and whirled to face the man standing in the way of my escape. Pale blue eyes gave off a ghostly light and seemed to look right through me. A vicious grin twisted his lips.
“Well, now. This is exactly what I hoped to find.” His sharp features twisted with a grimace. He towered over me, his thin, wiry frame covered in a crisp suit that matched his eyes.
“Who the hell are you?” I shoved away from the desk and stood, turning my body to hide the earpiece until I’d adjusted my hair over it and the side of my face.
The grin stretched wider, the menace in it rushing through the air to chill the room. He hissed a series oftsking sounds. “They didn’t tell you about me? How thoughtless of them.” He bowed at the waist, one hand to his belt and the other fanned toward me. “Luca Verducci, at your service.”
“So you’re the asshole who thinks he can take out my family.” I stood my ground. I had no choice with the desk at my back and Luca guarding the door.
“Oh, it’s nothing to do with you.” He strolled toward me, the blue ice in his eyes glinting dangerously. “You’re simply the weakness I plan on exploiting.”
“Good luck with that.” I felt around behind me, found one of the keyboards, and chucked it at his head.
He caught it from midair and heaved it back, clipping my shoulder. “You like to play? Good. That’ll make things interesting.”
“I’m not your type.” I locked my stance the way Dad taught me and resisted drawing the knife from the hidden sheath behind my back.
“Everyone is my type.” He withdrew a long, curved blade and tilted it into the light. “You all bleed the same.”
The voices in my ear offered a flurry of encouragement. Help was coming. I just had to live long enough for it to arrive.
Luca made a slashing motion through the air, and the blade sang a raw note of death.
I flinched back, using the desk as a weight to balance. When Luca laughed, I bit down on the inside of my cheek and ducked my head, sneaking out my knife.