Gunshots blasted all around me as I groaned in agony.
Mezzasalma’s first shot had caught me off guard; the next two added insult to injury.
Thank God for Signor Guillardo’s tuxedo.
He was famous in the Cosa Nostra for his bulletproof vests seamlessly combined with dress suits.
I’d ordered the ‘special padding’ –
Meaning I’d wanted everything covered.
Torso –
Legs –
And especially my cock.
A titanium codpiece.
Not the most comfortable accessory, but priceless all the same.
As it was, Mezzasalma’s three bullets hadn’t pierced my skin –
But the suit only stopped bullets.
It couldn’t magically displace all that force.
My abdomen felt like Mike Tyson had sucker-punched me –
And I was pretty sure at least two of my ribs were broken.
Small price to pay for not getting my dick shot off, though.
“Adriano!” a tinny voice shouted in my ear.
It wasn’t Bianca, though.
I’d heard her cries grow fainter as Mezzasalma dragged her across the restaurant.
My men had orders that she was to be protected at all costs, so I wasn’t worried that she would get shot –
But I was terrified that she was now in the hands of the devil himself.
“Adriano – ”
“What?!” I hissed as I forced myself to all fours.
“You alright?”
It was Valentino speaking through the tiny electronic earpiece I was wearing.
“No, I’m not!”
“Are you hit?!”
“Yeah, but not bleeding,” I said as I gritted my teeth.
I poked my head just high enough above the table to see what was going on.
Mezzasalma’s thugs were over to my left. They were firing at Massimo and my men over to the right.
Civilians were everywhere, screaming and hiding.
“Oh shit – he just came through with Bianca!” Valentino said.
“Let them through!” I yelled. “Do NOT engage, do you hear me?!”
And then I opened fire on Mezzasalma’s men.
I guess they thought I was dead.
Surprise, surprise.
I shot three of them before they realized what was going on.
Their biggest problem was they were caught in a crossfire:
Massimo and our men opposite them –
And me 90 degrees to their left.
There was nowhere to hide, and we sliced them to ribbons.
When the shooting stopped, no one was moving on the Mezzasalma men’s side…
Though there was lots of groaning.
I released the clip in my gun, slapped in a new one, and staggered across the restaurant.
“Where’s Bianca?” I snarled.
“I’ve got eyes on her,” Valentino said. “Some guy drove up in a Rolls Royce. Mezzasalma put her in the passenger seat – he’s staggering around the front. Looks like he’s been shot.”
Finally, ONE good piece of news, I thought.
I could’ve sworn I hit the guy at the same time he hit me.
Not sure if he had a bulletproof vest on…
But he was Sicilian…
And from the way he looked, tough as nails.
“Mezzasalma just drove off with Bianca,” Valentino informed me.
“Get me a fucking car,” I snarled.
“You got it.”
Suddenly Massimo was beside me.
He bent down, ducked his head under my shoulder, and helped me go faster across the restaurant.
“You hit?” he asked.
“I’ll live. What about Lars?”
A new voice spoke in my ear, calm and collected.
“Sorry, man – they had somebody on a nearby rooftop pinning us down.”
“It’s alright, as long as you’re okay.”
“I’m fine.”
“What about the shooter?”
“Dead.”
“Good. Call Niccolo and tell him about Mezzasalma having men around the house.”
“Already did as soon as the bastard said it.”
My team – Lars, Valentino, and Massimo – had been listening the entire time via a microphone in my tux.
“Then tell Nic I need the chopper to tail Mezzasalma.”
That was part of the plan – to have a helicopter on standby if we needed it.
“Roger that,” Lars said.
“You can’t drive in the shape you’re in,” Massimo said.
“The hell I can’t.”
“I’ll take the wheel – you take shotgun.”
“Alright,” I agreed.
As we burst into the lobby, Valentino came rushing up. “Vincenzo’s outside.”
“Good,” I grunted as Massimo helped me hobble up the stairs.
Valentino ran alongside us. “Can I go with you?”
“No. Evacuate our men and help any civilians if you can.”
“But – ”
“Do it!” I roared – half from the pain I was in, half from frustration. “The cops’ll be here any minute – you gotta be gone by then!”
“Okay,” Valentino said, then ran back down the stairs.
Massimo and I reached the street, where Vincenzo was waiting in one of our family’s bulletproof Mercedes.
Massimo flung open the passenger door and eased me into the seat.
Vincenzo looked over at me in shock. “Holy shit – ”
“Get out,” Massimo told him right before he closed the door.
Vincenzo followed orders as my brother ran around the front.
“You sure you don’t want me to drive?” Vincenzo asked.
“No, help Valentino,” Massimo said.
He slipped into the driver’s seat and slid it back as far as he could to accommodate his huge frame. Then he slammed the door and turned to me. “You good?”
“Let’s fuckin’ do this.”
Massimo stomped on the accelerator and we were off.
