“Let’s just get there as fast as we fucking can,” I finally say, gritting my teeth together.
I spend the rest of the ride glaring through the window while Santino and Bruno explain the situation.
“We’ve been informed of Antonio’s misdemeanours,” Bruno beings. “He’s running an illegal escort ring.”
“So how is that different from what we do?” Santino hisses.
I grin at myself without looking away from the horizon.
“Well, for one, he’s using girls who are underage,” Bruno adds. “And he’s pocketing the money himself, along with the help of a lovely young woman. Maybe Julian can tell you more about her.”
I snap my eyes to his. “Adrianna?”
“No,” Bruno laughs heartily, as if I’ve just told him a joke. “Your dear friend Marianna Ricci.”
I force myself not to react. I will not betray my true feelings. It’s more important now than ever that I stay cool and distant.
“What’s she got to do with this?” I ask.
At the same time, Santino mutters, “Who is she?”
“A teacher at the university,” Bruno mutters. “She was sleeping with Leonardo Brambilla.” “And his father.”
Bruno’s eyes snap to me at the sound of the words. “How did you come upon that tasty morsel of information?”
I shrug. “I did some investigating of my own.”
Bruno watches me with approval as if I’ve just passed a test I didn’t know I was taking.
“So what’s the plan?” Santino wonders.
“We’re busting him in the act and taking him down,” Bruno mutters.
“So he’s a dead man walking?”
“No,” Bruno shakes his head. “He’s going to jail for a very long time. The police have been after him but without Leonardo’s body they could never make an arrest. But I’m sure he’ll be tried for his other crimes in according fashion.”
I swallow, forcing myself to keep my gaze glued to the horizon.
The drive is short and quiet, and we finally arrive at Gatto. We file out of the car, accompanied by guards, as we burst into the gentlemen’s club. Men in expensive suits make way for us to pass, whiskey sloshing over the rim of their crystal tumblers as we efficiently take control of the situation.
Bruno points us upstairs to the VIP area, and as soon as we get up the stairs, a world of debauchery awaits us.
I see women and girls in various states of undress entertaining men twice their age, smoking expensive cigars. Someone’s spraying a group of women with champagne and there are several drugs being exchanged in the room. But now that we’re here, everything seems to fall apart. The women scream when they see our guns and our guys overpower the guards of the wealthy men in here.
With Santino following close behind, I make my way to the velvet curtain separating a private space in the back of the club. What I see inside almost brings me to my knees.
Francesca is naked, tied spread-eagled to the table with a ball gag in her mouth. There are six other men with her in the room, one of them Antonio Brambilla. Each of them holds a pocket knife. The evidence of their use is all over Francesca’s skin. Dozens of small and bigger cuts cover her perfect body.
Without thinking, I fire the first gunshot into the head of a man, cutting a line into her tender flesh. His body thuds down as blood spurts all over Francesca. Her screams come out muffled.
Half-dizzy from shock and half-drunk on adrenaline, I launch myself at the men while Santino fires more shots.
“Not Brambilla,” he yells at me just as my eyes connect with Antonio’s. “We need him alive.”
“Fuck,” I curse, pointing my gun at Antonio’s forehead. “Don’t run, you fucking prick.”
Of course he doesn’t listen. Instead, he grabs for Francesca, making quick work of cutting her loose while I approach him. He pulls out a gun, pointing it at Francesca’s head. She whimpers, making drool drip down her lips and onto her naked chest.
The weight of my emotions is hitting me fucking hard right now. I can feel my anger coming through in bursts, and I’m barely able to resist the urge to throw myself at Antonio and end him with my bare hands. But now that Francesca’s life is at stake, I don’t dare move.
“Let go of her,” I hiss at the bastard. “Get your filthy fucking hands away from my woman.”
More gunshots and screaming erupt behind us. Fucking hell, this has turned into a bloodbath. We’ll be lucky if half of us come out here alive. How could we have been so unprepared? There are a lot more men in here than we were told about.
Francesca is crying now, desperate sobs making her tremble as Brambilla keeps that fucking gun pointed at her temple.
“You’re surrounded,” I hiss at him. “You’re not getting away.”
“Then neither is she,” he hisses. “You will let me go now or she dies.”