Two men have guns in their hands, the metal glistening under the harsh lighting. The third man I can’t quite see, but I hear him as he pounds the shit out of Luca.
Fuck.
“Is that all you’ve got?” Luca laughs darkly, and with his attention on them, I sneak down into the basement and find cover behind a stack of boxes.
I have to crouch to avoid being spotted and shuffle along the side of the wall between the boxes and the narrow path, trying to get a better view of Luca without the men spotting me.
He’s hunched over, but his expression is emotionless.
Luca is well versed at hiding pain. But I know him, and I’ve seen that same expression on the ice when he pretends not to be suffering.
“Luca Ricci.” The man standing a few feet away in a flashy suit seems to be in charge. He peruses his phone, which must have a signal via satellite, and smiles. “Congratulations are in order. I see you’ve recently wed and have a son.”
My stomach drops at the mere mention of Harper and Zeke.
Luca takes a sharp breath, and I chance a glance at the two of them from around the boxes. I need Luca to recognize that I’m nearby if he’s going to help me fight off these men.
“If you so much as touch a hair on their heads—” Luca growls and begins to stand from the chair.
He’s not restrained, at least not physically.
The man who has been giving Luca a beating pulls back his fist. It glistens under the light: brass knuckles.
I lift my gun and take aim, firing off a shot at the man to Luca’s right, one of them who holds a gun. The other gun is poised on me, and while I have the momentary advantage, they’re just as quick, shooting two, no, three rounds at me.
Luca fights back, realizing that it’s his chance at escape. He wrestles the man with the brass knuckles, slamming his forehead into the man’s and knocking him momentarily off balance.
Another bullet whizzes by my head as I duck and am forced to follow the path around with one man shooting at me.
“Enough!” The man in charge lifts a hand to indicate for the carnage to end, but the other man doesn’t put down his gun. “Come out. We won’t kill you.”
Doubtful.
“I don’t take orders from you.” I keep my gun poised and lift my head enough to take a shot, hitting him square in the chest.
The armed man releases a spray of bullets, but they’re not anywhere close enough to hit me before he collapses onto the cement floor.
“You can come out of hiding. I have no need to kill you,” the man says. “I’m unarmed.”
I don’t believe him.
I keep my gun poised and hurry around toward Luca as he stands. The man who was wearing brass knuckles lies unconscious on the floor.
Nice one.
“I suggest you move your ass out of the way, or you’ll face my next bullet,” I threaten.
He smiles, holding his hands up. “Tell your old man, Don DeLuca says hello.”
The name doesn’t ring a bell. Is it supposed to? “I doubt my father gives a rat’s ass about you.”
“Not your father. His.” He points at Luca.
“DeLuca?” Luca rasps and clears his throat. “Gino is dead. Has been for decades.” He gets to his feet, quite a bit steadier than before.
“Not Gino. I’m not that old,” he says and smiles darkly. “Massimo.”
“Don’t know any Massimo,” Luca says, but the fact he knows any DeLucas at all has me all the more curious.