Brutal Winter - Page 67

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: WINTER

An arm wraps around me and I'm barely aware of my surroundings as I'm pushed to the ground. "Under the table," Vito says, gesturing for me to roll under the dessert table.

More shooting ensues, the shots growing louder and more rapid. Glancing up, I realize most of the people who were sitting at the tables now have guns drawn as well.

Of course they do, it's a mobster party.

"Table," Vito grits out and I obey, rolling under the table. My dress pulls tight at my hips and it feels like the fabric is going to rip but I slide as far under the table as I can. Vito gives a nod before pulling the tablecloth down, blocking my view of the room, along with the room's view of me.

I hear him exchanging words with Giovanni and I watch as a shadow appears in front of the table. The legs are long and muscular but I can make out a pair of heels and a moment later I hear Lucia's voice. "No worries, cugino, you know I'm good for fucking up anyone who comes this way." Her voice is firm, but she doesn't sound stressed like Vito. No, there's a bit of excitement in her tone.

I watch as she starts to bounce on her heels, confirming my suspicions.

She wants a fight to come her way.

The gunshots continue and a woman is screaming somewhere in the room. The sound of glass shattering is preceded by the lights flickering before dimming slighting. The exchange continues for longer before the shooting comes to an abrupt halt.

"Really? That’s it?" I hear Lucia mutter, disappointment clear in her tone.

The same woman is still screaming and someone else is sobbing. I remained balled up, waiting. My heart is going wild and my skin is buzzing but it doesn't feel as frightening as when the club was shot up. Maybe because Vito put me under the table before I could be in any real danger. Or maybe I'm starting to grow numb to normal human reactions.

Yeah, that's probably it.

The table cloth lifts and I'm surprised to find myself staring at Giovanni. His eyes sweep under my face before he steps back, making a gesture for me to hurry and get up. I move from under the table, wobbling slightly on my heels as I get to my feet. A hand wraps around my arm to steady me and I look up to find Lucia watching me.

"Thank you."

"It's no problem," she says, releasing me. She exchanges a look with Giovanni before moving away. Staring after her, I realize my reaction definitely isn't calm in comparison to hers as she struts through the room. She moves right over to a group of men forming a circle and pushes her way through.

"Come," Giovanni mutters and I follow at a slower pace, surveying the room.

A couple of the tables are knocked over, bullet holes shredded through them. A pile of glass is on the floor and I glance up, cringing when I see one of the lights has been busted. I drag my attention back to Giovanni. He pushes through the crowd of men, even rougher than Lucia. An opening remains and I step into it, my lips parting slightly.

A woman is sitting on the ground, a man's head in her lap as blood protrudes from a wound on his neck. The blood covers the woman's hands and she tries to plug the wound with towels. Her blonde hair falls into her face and black streaks of mascara run down her tear soaked face. She continues to scream for help as everyone watches her.

Feeling her despair, I hope that someone has called 9-1-1... but looking at the man, it's clear he's losing far too much blood at a rapid rate.

I look away, my gaze pausing on Giovanni.

He stares down at the couple on the floor for a moment, his face expressionless. He doesn’t say anything, just stares at them before turning and pushing out of the crowd. Following him with my gaze across the room, I finally notice a second circle formed. I recognize Vitos' broad back next to Lucia, who has drifted over. I move in their direction.

As I get closer, I hear a deep voice muttering something but it isn't quite clear until I’m standing a foot away.

"Fucker, you speak now, or I blow your balls off right here before God and everyone watching." Finally the cold voice comes through and I recognize it as Maximo.

I peer between the people gathered and whatever calm I collected disappears. He's kneeling over a man who's fingers look like they have been blown off, the mangle pieces of skin lying uselessly on the ground. Blood is coming from his mouth and blood is dripping down the side of his face. There are other bodies in a bad state too, but it's clear that they're dead. This man though...

Maximo shoves the barrel of his gun right up against the man's crotch. People in the crowd shift uneasily.

"The Mexican Cartel," the man hisses out.

"Be specific," Maximo snarls at him.

"I don't know which one, I promise," the man whimpers. "They didn't tell me-" His words are cut off abruptly as Maximo moves the barrel to his temple and squeezes the trigger. Blood sprays, covering Maximo and the dark carpet. I turn around, my stomach twisting.

A hand wraps around mine. I look up to find Enzo’s hard gaze on me. "Let's go," he says, pulling me away from the crowd. I glance behind us where no one else seems to have gotten the memo to leave. "Are they staying?" I ask Enzo, just, barely able to get the words out. I expect to go to the elevator but he drags me to the stairwell instead.

"It depends on what Giovanni wants. I have orders to get you home. The hotel has already called the police and it'll only be a matter of time before they show up. We don't need you on their radar."

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