Nico (Ruin & Revenge #1)(20)

“Alfio?”

Still nothing. She didn’t know how long she’d been standing there when she heard a sound. The creak of a door. Footsteps. She drew in a shuddering breath and willed herself to move. Where was the sense of self-preservation that had built up the walls to shield her heart after Danny died? That had allowed her to endure the horror of being dragged back into the Mafia world she had tried so hard to escape?

Shaking, she bent down, felt around Alfio’s body for his gun. Bile rose in her throat as she touched his warm skin, followed his arm to his hand and then, finally, to the cold, hard steel of the weapon lying beside him. She wrapped her fingers around the handle and stood, turning to the door just as the lights came on.

She blinked as her eyes adjusted to the light, tried to make out the blurry figure in front of her. Tall, broad shouldered, dark hair, well-cut suit. Her vision cleared and dark eyes met hers. Familiar. Her tension eased until he raised his gun. Mia slid her finger through her trigger. Her father may have despised her for being born a girl, but at least he’d taught her how to shoot.

“Holy fuck,” a man’s voice said from behind her. “Holy fuck, Nico. They’re all dead: Don Toscani, Don Falzone, his underboss, coupla dudes who musta been bodyguards. Did she kill them all?”

Seemingly unconcerned by the gun Mia had pointed at his chest, Nico lifted a querying eyebrow.

“No.” Mia shook her head. “It wasn’t me. The lights went out. There were shots. And then…” She couldn’t bring herself to turn around and see all the dead bodies so she gestured vaguely behind her with her left hand. “This.”

“Drop your gun.” Nico’s voice, low and deep, rumbled through her.

“Drop your gun.” She didn’t know where she’d found the courage to defy him, but the minute she lowered her weapon, she would be vulnerable, and she’d had enough of being vulnerable tonight.

“Have a care,” he warned. “Frankie is behind you and he won’t hesitate to add to the death toll tonight.”

She didn’t know who Frankie was, but if he worked for Nico, there was no way he would put Nico’s life at risk by shooting her while she held a gun.

“So shoot me.” Her instincts were screaming at her to get the hell out, but she forced herself to stay in place. As long as her weapon was pointed at Nico’s chest, she was in a position of power, and she wasn’t prepared to give it up.

“Tony is alive,” the voice said behind her. “So is Don Cordano. They aren’t moving, but they’re still breathing.”

Nico’s gaze flicked over Mia’s shoulder, and his jaw tightened almost imperceptibly as a chill settled in the air. “Are you sure Don Cordano is still alive, Frankie?”

“He doesn’t have to be.”

Mia felt something cold and hard press against the back of her head, and she tightened her grip on her weapon.

“We’re the only ones here.” Frankie lowered his voice. “We could make it look like everyone in the restaurant was killed in the shoot-out. You could have your revenge, your ring, maybe some Toscani pussy, too.”

“I’ll shoot you if you touch him.” She stared at Nico, holding the gun steady. Although she bitterly hated her father, had imagined him dead hundreds of times in hundreds of different, painful ways, she couldn’t allow Nico to shoot him when he was down, especially when he wasn’t guilty of the crime. He was still her father. Family. And blood ties ran deep. So deep that he’d taken the blame for Nico’s father’s death all these years to protect Dante—a secret their family had vowed to carry to the grave.

“He owes me a life,” Nico said, his eyes blazing.

“He’s no threat to you right now.”

Nico’s face twisted with hate. “My father wasn’t a threat. He had his back turned. He didn’t have his gun out. He was trying to save me.”

“I know,” she said softly. “I was there. I feel your pain. I lost my Danny, too, and every day I have to look at his killer and every day I wish him dead. But not like this.” Nico might be dressed as a mobster, but that night at Luigi’s she had seen something else—the essence of the man. He was kind and compassionate. Protective. Caring. He didn’t know her, but he had tried to spare her the sight of Danny dying. And when her father tried to beat her, he had protected her at the cost of his father’s life.

“He should know he is paying for his crimes,” she said. “He should suffer as he made us suffer. He’s my father and I despise him, but I can’t let you take the life of an unconscious man. It’s morally wrong.”

“Don’t listen to her. You’ve been waiting ten years. This is your chance. Do it,” Frankie urged Nico. “Do it before anyone else comes. If you’re worried about her, I’ll take care of the problem.”

Sweat beaded on Mia’s brow. Taking care of the problem meant Frankie was prepared to ensure she didn’t walk out of the restaurant alive.

Nico lowered his gun and walked toward Mia, his expression vacant, seemingly unconcerned by the gun in her hand. Frankie gripped her shoulder, forcing her to turn with him as he pressed his weapon to her head. Mia gasped when she saw the carnage behind her—the restaurant red with blood, glass shattered, tables torn apart, the walls riddled with bullet holes, bodies on the floor, her father slumped over the table, covered in blood.