by CJ Bishop
Cruz took out the loud mouth with a single shot between the eyes, dropping him instantly. The other two men retreated, lunging for the refuge of the stairwell. Clint got the second one with a shot through the back that blew his heart out his chest. He hit the bottom steps in front of the third man who was now in a state of panic and trying to scramble over his comrade’s dead body.
Cochise stepped out into the open and took his head off, dropping him on top of his buddy.
Sanchez kissed Cruz hard. “Let’s hope the gunshot we heard was the end of Terrell Pisano.”
They didn’t want to consider any other possibility. Not only for Caterina’s sake, but their own as well; they had all quickly become fond of the young man who had stolen their girl’s heart.
“Come on.” Cruz moved toward the stairs. “Dominic. Get ready with more of the smoke bombs. They know we’re here now, so watch your backs.” He paused at the stairs and looked up the smoky stairwell. The door at the top was closed. “I’ll go up first, check if the coast is clear.”
Clint grabbed his arm when he started forward. “I’ll go.” He snatched one of the canisters from the metal box and moved past Cruz. He took the stairs two at a time, his steps soft and quiet for a man his size. The cowboy opened the door a crack, then a few inches. He motioned that the way was clear and tossed the canister through the door.
The rest of them surged up the stairs. Sanchez tugged out his phone as he kept pace with Cruz and made a call to the men out front. “We’re going into the belly of the beast,” he said. “Get ready for runners.” He listened a moment then looked at Cruz and Clint. “They want to know what to do if anyone wants to surrender.”
Clint shook his head. “Clean sweep. Not one of these fuckers would hesitate to take us out. They signed on with Pisano to destroy us. We were lenient with Quinton’s men and look where that got us.” The cowboy’s eyes darkened. “We take no prisoners.”
CHAPTER 36
“Wages of Sin”
______________________________________________
Caterina smelled the smoke the instant they stepped out into the hall. “Is the house on fire?” Panic grabbed her and she clutched Rodriguez’s hand.
“No. Just some of our homemade toys.” He squeezed her hand and smiled. “Don’t worry.”
They moved hurriedly along the hallway and turned the corner cautiously where they could see the smoke as well as smell it. Rodriguez led her through a maze of halls and they could hear shouts in distant parts of the house.
“This way,” Rodriguez said low and took her in a direction away from the main chaos. He brought his weapon up abruptly when figures appeared within the smoke—then lowered it again as Cruz and the others came into focus.
Behind Cruz was Sanchez, who stepped around his boyfriend and hugged Caterina hard. “You okay, sweetheart?”
Caterina clung to him and nodded, her throat constricted. “Yeah,” she whispered. “I’ll be even better when we’re all safe at home.”
“You and me, too, baby girl.” He kissed her head.
She drew back and looked through the men. “Where’s Flynn?” she asked worriedly.
“Don’t worry about him,” Cruz said. “We won’t leave him behind. You just get out of here and back home where you belong.” He motioned to Matteo. “You and Rodriguez take her home, and stay there. Go down through the basement and out the back. If you encounter anyone that isn’t with us—cap the fucker.”
Matteo nodded and moved past Cruz and joined Caterina and Rodriguez.
“Is Flynn all right?” Caterina asked anxiously.
“I’m sure he’s okay,” Cruz answered.
“But you don’t know for sure?” Fear tentacles wrapped her heart.
Cruz came to her and gently gripped her shoulders. “Your boy is smart and efficient. Try not to worry about him.” He kissed her brow. “Now go.” He nodded at the two men with her.
“Come on, señorita,” Rodriguez grasped her hand again and led her away from the group of men. Matteo followed.
They cut through a door and down a short stairwell. Caterina faltered when she saw the bodies at the bottom of the stairs.
“Don’t worry, darling,” Matteo said. “They can’t hurt you.” He lifted her over the two dead men and set her on the floor.
“Is Riccardo…dead?” she asked uneasily. If he was still alive—would he go after Flynn?
Matteo rapped his knuckles on a latched metal door as they walked down the narrow corridor. “Not dead, but locked up tight for the time being.”
Caterina glanced anxiously at the door. “What’re they gonna do with him?”
“That remains to be seen,” Rodriguez said. “But rest assured, darling, you’ll never see him again.”
Shuddering, Caterina whispered, “Good.”
Rodriguez led them through the outer door to where two cars were parked, and next to the second car—two more bodies. “We’ll take one of these cars,” Rodriguez said. “These boys aren’t going to need them anymore.” He checked the closest vehicle and found the keys still in the ignition. “This’ll do.”
“Hey!” Someone shouted and Rodriguez spun around then jerked back as a gun fired.
“Rodriguez!” Caterina screamed as the young man hit the ground. She dropped beside him, catching only a glimpse of the shooter before Matteo quickly stepped in front of her and fired off three rounds into the shooter’s chest.
Matteo was down beside her a moment later. “Rodriguez?”
Rodriguez lay still, eyes open, blinking as his breath rasped up his throat. He swallowed rapidly then lifted his head and looked at his bleeding would. “He shot me,” he gasped. “The fuck.”
“He’ll live,” Matteo assured Caterina. “Just got him in the shoulder.” Matteo helped Rodriguez off the ground.
“The fucker shot me.”
Matteo snorted. “What did you expect?”
Rodriguez scowled and winced in pain as Matteo put him into the backseat of the car. “I didn’t plan to get shot, that’s for damn sure.”
Standing out of the way, Caterina trembled, her own weapon still clutched in her hand. She’d never seen anyone shot before-
Movement from the corner of her eye spun her around. Her weapon swung up instinctively and she stared wide-eyed at the man who appeared around the corner of the house. He looked quick at the dead shooter then wrenched out his weapon. Caterina gasped sharply and squeezed off a rapid succession of rounds before she could even think about it.
“Fuck!” Matteo jumped and whirled around.
The second shooter jerked and hit the side of the house as bullets riddled his body, then slumped to a heap on the ground.
“Shit, girl!” Matteo stared at her, breath unsteady.
“He…” Caterina was shaking, the gun thrust out in front of her. “He just came…out of nowhere.”
Rodriguez let out a groaning laugh. “Hell, baby, we should take you with us more often.”
Releasing a hard breath, Matteo slowly took her weapon. She blinked, some of the shock wearing off. Matteo grinned and kissed her cheek. “You just saved my life, honey. I didn’t even see that fucker come around the house.” He looked at the dead man lying in a heap against the wall. “Nice work, darling.”
Caterina hugged herself and glanced at Matteo and Rodriguez. “I-I’d like to go home now.”
Laughing softly, Matteo hugged her. “Hop in, baby girl, and we’ll hit the road.”
•
“Those shots came from out back,” Sanchez murmured fearfully. The men moved through the smoky hallway, getting closer to the commotion of Terrell’s men as they searched for the threat.
“Call Rodriguez, make sure they’re all right,” Cruz told him.
Sanchez dropped back a bit and made the call, his gut knotted up tight as he waited for Rodriguez to answer. His fear was mounting fast when the call finally picked up. “Rodriguez?”
“Yeah?” his voice strained.
“We heard shots. Is everyone oka
y?”
“Yeah,” he groaned. “We’re all right. For the most part.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I got shot.”
“What?” Sanchez hissed and Cruz looked back him, his eyes asking what was wrong.
“I’ll live,” Rodriguez mumbled. “Just a flesh wound.”
“Are you away from the house?”
“Yeah, we’re on our way home. Our señorita is safe.”
Sanchez let out a relieved breath. “Okay. Take care of that wound as soon as possible.”
“Will do. And you all get your butts home as soon as possible—and in one piece.”
“That’s the plan,” Sanchez confirmed.
“What’s going on?” Cruz asked when Sanchez put his phone away. “Are they all right?”
Sanchez nodded. “Rodriguez took a bullet, but he’s okay.”
“He was shot?”
“He’s okay,” Sanchez repeated. “Let’s just deal with this shit here and get home. Where do we find Flynn?”
“In the living room.” Cruz pointed down the hallway. “Up ahead.” Cruz took the lead with the cowboy flanking him. He took another canister from Dominic and hurled it down the hall when they heard men headed their way. As they neared the living room doorway, one of Pisano’s men rushed through, unaware of the approaching group. Shouting erupted and a gun fired. “Fuck!” Cruz hissed and moved quickly toward the room.
Who had fired on the other? Fear shot through Sanchez; had Flynn been killed? They’d told Caterina they would bring Flynn home. What if all they could bring with them was his dead body? He felt sick as they entered the room, weapons ready—and nearly stumbled over the body practically blocking the entrance. Across the floor, by the fireplace, Flynn stood, gun in hand, and a dead Terrell Pisano at his feet.
•
Caterina assisted Matteo with Rodriguez, helping him into the house. Though his wound wasn’t fatal, he had lost blood during the drive home and was feeling the effects, growing light-headed and unsteady on his feet.
“What happened?” Eighteen-year-old Benito rushed through the foyer, fear pinching his smooth features. He had yet to recover from the day Cruz and the boys had brought home Diego’s body—the same night Diego’s wife, Marissa, had died shortly after giving birth to their daughter, Hope. Benny was a tenderhearted boy, at times seeming much younger than his eighteen years.
“He’s going to be all right,” Matteo assured the boy. The two were very much alike; older and younger versions of one another, ruled by their hearts and deep compassion for their “family”.
“Go get papá,” Caterina told him. “Hurry.”
Benny nodded and ran back the way he’d come. They took Rodriguez to the living room and laid him on the sofa. Lorenzo entered minutes later and immediately took control, instructing each of them what to do.
“Give him something to bite down on,” Lorenzo said to no one in particular. “This is going to hurt like a bugger.”
“Yay,” Rodriguez groaned. He looked at Benny. “Give me your belt, kid. If you don’t mind permanent bite marks in it.” He smiled.
Benny tugged his belt loose and folded it in half and handed it to Rodriguez who chomped down on the double-layered leather. Lorenzo had the blood cleaned away from around the bullet wound and removed the cap from a bottle of rubbing alcohol.
“This is going to sting a bit.”
“A bit?” Matteo snorted. “It’s going to hurt like fuck.”
“Thanks a lot,” Rodriguez muttered around the belt.
Caterina took Benny and left the room while Matteo remained with Lorenzo and his patient.
“That’s just Rodriguez’s blood on you, right?” Benny asked with concern.
“Yeah.” She felt a little numb, her mind still absorbing the fact that she was away from the other house and safe at home. But the others aren’t safe yet.
“No one else was hurt, were they?” Benny gazed at her fearfully.
“No.” She stroked her hand through his hair. “Everyone was okay when we left.”
“I’m really glad you’re home.” He hugged her tight. “I was really scared. I-I kept thinking about Diego.” Tears thickened his voice. “I don’t want to lose anyone else.”
Caterina wrapped her arms around him. He was easily as tall as her, his body lean and lanky, yet she felt like she was holding a child as he trembled in her arms. “Everyone’s going to come home safe,” she whispered. “You’ll see. They will.”
Benny swallowed thickly and pressed his face to her shoulder. “That’s what they said the day Diego died.”
What could she say to that? She couldn’t make him promises, though she desperately wanted to. “Pray and have faith,” she murmured softly and hugged him closer. “I believe they will all come back to us. I’d sure feel better if you’d believe with me.”
Benny sniffed and wiped his eyes as he drew back. “I will.”
She kissed his forehead. “Thank you,” she whispered with a small smile. She plucked at her soiled shirt. “I need to change my shirt and shower. If papá comes looking for me before I’m done, tell him I’ll be down soon.”
“Okay.”
Caterina went to her room. As soon as the door was closed behind her, the shakes hit her hard as the overwhelming tension of the day and this evening came crashing down, exploding her emotions. She crumpled on the bed and curled into a ball, crying uncontrollably. She ached for Flynn’s soothing touch; his warm kisses and the safety of his arms. Her fear for all her boys swarmed over her, laboring her breath.
Please come home safe…please, God, bring them all safely home.
•
Flynn was thrust back to the night his mother died as shouts and chaos erupted throughout the house. For a moment, he was frozen in place as he was once again in that hallway nine years ago, staring in horror at his mother’s dead body—and Cruz Santiago squatted next to her. But it hadn’t been Cruz who had pulled the trigger, ripping away her precious life.
He blinked and looked down at his dead father lying on the floor, a pooling goo of brain matter and blood beneath his head. His dead eyes stared up at Flynn…and Flynn felt nothing. He didn’t know if it was normal—or healthy—to experience absolutely no remorse, no sense of grief or guilt whatsoever.
He gave the order to kill your mother—his wife—because he thought she “coddled” you too much. Why the fuck should you feel anything but fucking justice right now?
Across the room, another man lay dead—gunned down without hesitation. Again, Flynn felt nothing. Would any one of these men have killed his mother if his father had ordered them to do so?
“Flynn?”
He blinked, regaining his bearings and focus. Cruz was walking toward him as some of the other men lingered around the door, keeping an eye on the hallway.
“Are you all right?” Cruz asked low, concerned.
“Yeah.” Flynn lowered his eyes to his father’s corpse, his face hardening. “I had a chance to kill him once before,” he mumbled. “I just didn’t have the guts to pull the trigger.”
“You had the guts today.” Cruz clasped his shoulder. “I know he was your father, but he intended to turn Caterina over to Riccardo once we were dead. You know he did.”
Flynn nodded. “And probably would’ve had me killed, too,” he whispered. “He was always saying what a fucking disappointment I was. He’d given up on me becoming the man he thought I should be.”
“You’re a far better man than the one he wanted you to be,” Cruz assured.
Flynn stared at him—already feeling a brotherly bond forming. “I like your family. If I’m ever allowed to be a part of it, I promise I will never dishonor you.”
“I believe you.” Cruz glanced at the men. “Let’s be quick and efficient about this. I’m ready to go home.”
“Me, too.”
•
Later than night, the events of the evening would feel like a hazy dream to Cruz as he and his men surged through th
e large home, using the cloak of the smoke bombs to take out Pisano’s men. The smart ones ran for their lives, pouring out the front entrance as Cruz’s posse pushed them that direction. Gunfire erupted out on the front lawn as the second group picked off the runners. It was inevitable that some escaped, but Cruz suspected they would keep on running—right out of the city.
By the time the smoke began to clear, the house had settled into dead silence, bodies littering the halls and scattered through the rooms. There were perhaps a few stragglers hiding out somewhere within the immense domicile, but if they were smart, they would remain in hiding until Cruz and his men were gone.
“Let’s grab our prize and get the fuck out of here,” Cruz told the men. He was exhausted and ached for a long, hot bath shared with Sanchez…then sliding between the sleek, cool sheets of their bed. His whole body came alive and he grasped Sanchez’s hand, lacing their fingers as the bulk of the men filed back down through the basement.
Clint unlatched the furnace door and yanked it open. Riccardo remained slumped in the chair, body straining the ropes. The cowboy cut him loose and he and Cochise packed the man outside and on to where their vehicles were parked, concealed from sight. They dumped Riccardo in the trunk of Clint’s car and slammed the lid. “Ride with us,” Clint told Flynn. “When this fucker wakes up, you need to be the first face he sees.”
“Why?” Flynn asked.
“Because the moment he lays eyes on you,” the cowboy murmured, “he will fully understand that the wages of his sin is death…and it’s time to settle his debt.”
CHAPTER 37
“Need to Know”
______________________________________________
“Mija.” There were tears in her godfather’s eyes when she entered the living room. The man embraced her and held her deep in his arms. “One of my prayers have been answered tonight.” He held her for a long moment while she clung to him like a little girl in desperate need of her daddy’s comfort.