Revenge (50 page)

Should he have called in more men? He was
being selfish as it was to have asked anyone to accompany him. And
what if Dom had recruited others to help him? These men, these were
the only ones he could definitely rely on. His personal staff.

A car pulled up, and Antonio, Paolo, and
Tommaso piled out. Antonio looked stricken as he approached Enrico.
“Don Lucchesi, I have failed you.” He waited, head bowed, for his
punishment.

Enrico put a hand on his shoulder. “Give me
your phone.”

Antonio pulled out the phone, questions on
his face. “My gun too?”

“You’re going to need that.” He handed
Antonio his own phone, which was still tracking Dom. “I need you to
do something for me.”

“Anything.”

“Find Dom and bring him to the safe house. If
I do not return, execute him, but make it look like it was the
Andrettis. The
cosca
will need Dom’s sons to run it—”

Antonio cut him off with a horizontal slash
of his hand. “You will return, Don Lucchesi. I have no doubt.”

Enrico smiled. “I wish I shared your
certainty.” He gave Antonio a light push. “Now go.” Antonio started
to step away. What if this was the last time he saw him? “Wait.” A
pressure built up in his chest, his throat tightening. He placed
his hands on Antonio’s shoulders. “I want you to know, Tonio….” His
voice trailed off, thickening. He squeezed the boy’s shoulders.
“You’ve never disappointed me.” He paused, looking Antonio full in
the face. “I never had the pleasure of raising my own son, but
sometimes I’ve thought of you that way.”

Antonio’s eyes misted. “You honor me too
much, Don Lucchesi.”

Enrico embraced him, his heart contracting
when Antonio returned it. Then he stepped back and gave him another
little push. “Go now. And be careful. He is capable of
anything.”

Antonio nodded, not saying a word. He hurried
back to the car and sped off. Enrico watched him for a moment,
wishing he’d had more to offer the boy. More time, more love. There
was never enough of the former, and the latter… the latter he’d
held back out of respect for Nico. There was no replacing one son
with another. But was there more room in his heart than he
thought?

Enrico called Paolo and Tommaso to him and
briefed them on what he and Ruggero had decided. Paolo could barely
meet his eye. Enrico pulled him aside. “This is not your fault,
understand? She made a mistake. Not you.”

Paolo shook his head. “I know my training. I
shouldn’t have deviated from it.”

“You can’t protect someone who doesn’t want
it.”

Paolo nodded, but still looked miserable. “I
don’t deserve your forgiveness.”

“You’ll earn it tonight, I promise you.”

Enrico motioned for Tommaso and the others to
rejoin them. “We’ll leave the cars partway, blocking the road. No
one leaves without killing us.”

The men nodded.

“We have no idea what we’ll encounter.
Hopefully we have prepared well enough.” Enrico gestured to
Ruggero, who started handing out gloves, radios, knives, mini Uzis,
and extra ammo clips in small backpacks.

“I’m leaving additional guns and ammunition
in the boots of the cars,” Ruggero said. “That’s our fallback
point, if necessary.”

Enrico stepped forward again, as all the men
checked their weapons. “Remember, Kate’s in there, so be careful.
This will all be for nothing if she’s killed.” He looked at each
man in turn. “If any of you want to sit this out, I’ll
understand.”

Each man held his gaze, giving a slight nod.
Enrico smiled, his heart full. “Good. I knew you were the men I
could count on.”

They departed for the house, stopping after
several hundred feet and creating a roadblock with the cars. The
men continued on foot, careful to make no sound. As soon as they
saw lights, they split into two teams and struck out through the
trees. The plan was for the teams to circle the location and meet
up to exchange intelligence.

Enrico chafed at not being able to charge up
to the house and burst in. Anything could be happening to her. But
it was quiet; that was a good sign. No screams, at least. Of
course, Carlo could have her gagged. Or worse—she could already be
dead.

Enrico and his men circled the building. It
was large, three stories, made of stone. Thick vines had crawled up
the walls; the structure appeared quite old. They counted the
number of vehicles in back: only three, so the odds were good.

Creeping through the trees and underbrush
that came up close to the house, Enrico wondered why Carlo had a
place out here. It was inconvenient. But then it dawned on him—it
wasn’t inconvenient. It was secluded. No neighbors, no one to see
or hear anything. And plenty of places to dump bodies where they’d
be found only by animals. It was the perfect place for dark
projects. And now Kate was one.

They met up with Ruggero’s team. Together,
the teams had spotted four guards outside, one near each corner of
the house. They’d have to be dealt with first.

“Did you see anything inside?” Enrico
asked.

“Two more guards. And Dario. They’re playing
cards by the fire,” Ruggero said. “We have no idea how many are
upstairs.”

“Did you see her?”

He shook his head. “She must be upstairs.
Carlo too.”

The knot in Enrico’s stomach pulled tighter.
If that bastard had laid one finger on her
…. He took a deep
breath, forcing himself to focus.

They could see front and rear exits, and part
of the interior on the bottom floor, but that gave them little idea
of the layout inside. Enrico looked up, studying the house. “How
many lights are on upstairs?”

“I didn’t see any on our side,” Ruggero said,
and Claudio and Santino nodded.

“I remember one,” Enrico said. He looked at
Paolo and Tommaso. “What did you see?”

“One, maybe two,” Paulo ventured. Tommaso
shrugged.

Enrico turned back to Ruggero. “I want your
team and Tommaso to handle the guards outside. I’ll take Paolo with
me through the back door.” He looked at his watch. “In two minutes,
we head for our targets. Agreed?”

Ruggero nodded, sliding his knife out of its
sheath. It was large, a hunting knife, the handle utilitarian black
rubber. Claudio, Santino, and Tommaso slid theirs out as well. The
four men faded away, sneaking through the brush toward their
targets. As soon as Enrico and Paolo saw the others break cover,
they were to run for the back door.

The plan went smoothly—Carlo’s guards had
little time to react, and none of them managed to raise an alarm.
Soon all four men lay twitching on the ground, their throats
gurgling as they choked on their own blood.

Enrico and Paolo were at the back door in a
flash. It was locked. Enrico heard a dull roar inside the house,
then the sound of feet pounding up the stairs. No time to pick the
lock. He smashed a window panel with the butt of his knife, then
reached through and opened the door from the inside.

Ducking into a low crouch, he scanned the
darkened room. It was a kitchen. Paolo came in next and raised his
gun, squatting next to Enrico. They heard shouts and cursing from
above, and then Enrico heard Kate’s voice.
Grazie a Dio
—she
was alive.

Ruggero and the others slipped in behind
them. They waited, but heard no one moving toward them. Had the
broken window gone unnoticed?

They advanced toward the next room. When
Paolo ducked his head out to see if all was clear, he was met by a
machine gun burst. He slumped forward, his head a bloody mess.
Enrico reached out to drag him back, but Ruggero tugged on his
arm.

“Leave him. He’s dead. And we’re trapped,”
Ruggero said.

Enrico stared at Paolo. He shouldn’t have
brought him here. He shouldn’t have brought any of them here. Then
a scream from above—a woman’s scream—focused him back on Kate. He
couldn’t wait. He turned to Ruggero. “Cover me.”

Before Ruggero could stop him, he rolled out
into the room, aiming for the back of a sofa he thought would
provide cover. Ruggero crouched in the doorway behind him, spraying
the room with bullets. The bright muzzle flashes and the roar of
the gun were disorienting, especially when Carlo’s man returned the
fire. Enrico crawled around the side of the couch, looking for an
angle to shoot his target.

He snaked under a coffee table, but heard the
gunfire shift from Ruggero to himself, the bullets hitting the
stone floor with sharp pings. Shards of broken rock flew up around
Enrico’s legs. He flattened himself until Ruggero’s increased fire
drew the man’s attention.

Enrico rolled for the far sofa. Behind it, he
could see it was a straight shot to the end of the wooden staircase
that led to the rooms above, and to Kate.

Enrico crawled on his elbows and belly around
the back of the couch. He drew his Glock, not trusting himself to
fire the Uzi with any accuracy from such a position. He edged up to
the end of the sofa. This was it.

He rolled out on his back, the gun up and
sighted toward the guard, whose head flicked in Enrico’s direction
when he caught the sudden movement. The guard swung his gun around,
but he was too slow. Enrico and Ruggero caught him in a crossfire
of bullets. The man jerked a few times, dropped his gun and fell to
the floor. Enrico didn’t wait to see if he was dead. He was already
on his feet and scrambling up the stairs. She’d just screamed.
Again.

At the sound of gunfire, Massimo ducked out
the door, leaving Kate with Dario and Carlo.

“Give her to me. Now,” Carlo said.

Dario glanced at the corridor behind him. He
pushed Kate toward Carlo and pulled his gun.

Kate stumbled and screamed when Carlo grabbed
her from behind. He wound his fist in her hair and jerked her head
up under his chin, bringing tears to her eyes. “We will not have
time for much fun,
mia cara
, so I shall make it memorable.”
He pulled a knife from his pocket, a switchblade that looked like
the one Vince had tried to use on her. He pressed the point of it
into the flesh below her right eye. “Such a shame,” he said, then
he pressed the knife harder, breaking the skin. Kate screamed.
Enrico was here. He was here, but he was too late. Her only hope
was herself.

She kicked back hard into Carlo’s right shin,
hearing a satisfying crack as the heel of her shoe connected with
the bone.

Carlo howled in pain, and the knife moved
away from her face, enough that she risked twisting to the left. He
yanked viciously on her hair, and she was sure he’d pulled out a
fistful. And maybe some scalp.

He slashed at her with the knife, the blade
searing across her arm. Dario’s voice cut across the room. “Stop
that!”

Carlo looked at him, and Kate saw her chance.
Blood dripped down her arm. She drove her elbow back into his
belly, knocking the wind out of him, and he let go of her. She was
free. She ran for the door and Dario. No one would stop her.

Enrico was rounding the stairs, at the
landing halfway up the first flight, when a burst of machine-gun
fire whizzed by his head. Plaster chips hit him in the face, and he
clamped his eyes shut and ducked down, retreating behind the
wall.

When the firing stopped, Enrico peered around
the corner. Massimo Veltroni, the huge man who’d threatened them in
Rome, stood at the top, but this time his gun was real. He gripped
a Steyr AUG in both hands. Behind him, light spilled into the
half-lit hallway from an open door.

Enrico could see another man behind the
guard, half in the doorway. Was that Dario?
Dio mio
, was he
helping Carlo? What were they doing to her?

Kate screamed again, and all rational thought
fled. He had to save her. He peered over the edge of the landing
and saw Ruggero in the living room, taking cover to the left of the
base of the stairs. “Cover me now!” he yelled at Ruggero as he
darted forward.

Ruggero stood up and fired through the
banister as Enrico crawled up the stairs, trying to duck low enough
to evade Ruggero’s fire.

Veltroni took a bullet in the leg, but he
didn’t stop firing. He fell down on one knee, and his shots canted
lower. Bullets tore into the wood next to Enrico, who flattened
himself against the stairs and the wall. He was pinned.

Enrico sighted the Glock at the man above
him, but he didn’t have a clean kill shot. Not unless he moved to
the center of the stairs. He had only one chance.

He took a deep breath, loosened his grip on
the gun, then tightened it. He looked up, memorizing where Veltroni
was.

In one swift motion, he rolled sideways,
snapping the gun to the point he’d memorized. He squeezed off two
shots before he landed on his side against the banister. His
partially healed rib cracked, the pain sharp and immediate.
Veltroni choked and fell forward, tumbling down two steps. He’d
done it. Scrambling to his feet, he charged up the stairs.