The Killer's Fake Bride (Possessive Dark Mafia)

Shaun laughed, shaking his head angrily, and banged his hands down on the table. As soon as he did it, Colm turned his head to glare at the young man, and I pulled the gun out from my waistband while he was distracted. I held it there below the table, pointing at Colm’s gut.

“Fuck you, free passage,” Shaun said. “You deserve to get lit up anytime you come near us.”

“Watch your mouth, boy,” Colm snapped. “You aren’t in charge of these negotiations.”

“The hell with this.” Shaun turned to Colm. “Let me out. I’m not sitting here and listening to this bullshit.”

“Stay where you are,” Colm growled.

“Let me out.”

The men glared at each other until Colm finally broke away and slid to the side. Shaun got out of the booth and walked a few feet away. Colm turned his back and stared after the boy, rage written all over every muscle in his body.

I tapped Sam on the leg. One, hard jab to her thigh, then stood and brought the gun up in one smooth motion.

This was the moment. There might not be another clear chance where Colm was up and distracted and nobody was in the line of fire. Colm turned, ready to tell me to sit down or to snap something at me, and his eyes went wide as I pressed the gun against his face.

“That’s how it is then?” he asked. “You’re going to kill me in cold blood? We’re supposed to be negotiating.”

“You never wanted to negotiate in good faith. Only way to end this war is to end you.”

“I’m at the table. You know what’ll happen if you squeeze that trigger.” His eyes narrowed and he kept his hands up. “My family will rise up and get revenge. You think they’re fighting hard now? Imagine how they’ll fight when I’m dead.”

“Here’s the problem with that, Colm,” Sam said suddenly. “Your family hates you. They despise that you’ve kept them in this war for so long, and they’re tired of losing family.”

Colm glared down at her. “What the fuck do you know about it, your traitor bitch?”

I shot him in the head. One bullet, the report of the gun sharp and booming in the tight space. His skull snapped backwards as shards of brain and blood splattered all over the floor and the tables. Shaun threw himself sideways and yelled something as the back door opened up, but I didn’t hear what he said. I put another bullet in Colm’s chest, then dove to my right, tackling Sam down and yanking her under the table seconds before gunfire erupted.

Bullets tore into the seats and the table and the wall. Shards of wood and vinyl siding blasted against our bodies like shrapnel. I kept Sam down and covered, blocking her with my body, and I felt a hundred little fragments cut through my clothes and my skin. After a moment, the shooting stopped, and I slid on my side, gun aimed forward.

Three guys stood in the doorway. “Stand down, goddamn it,” Shaun yelled, but I wasn’t about to find out if they’d listen. I got off two rounds, shot the guy on the right dead, before they responded. I growled in pain as a bullet tore into my shoulder close to my lung, and I rolled across the aisle and hid under the opposite table. I took a couple random shots and missed, then leaned back against the wall, hand against the bleeding wound.

Sam’s eyes were wild with fear. She stared at me, her mouth hanging open, tears in her eyes. “Matteo,” she yelled. “Please, Matteo.” Meaningless, formless words. I had only one thought, one goal, and that was to keep her alive no matter what.

Which meant killing two more men.

I could do it. I’d killed hundreds of men in my life. I could lose myself, but so long as she was alive, and my baby was alive, I’d be okay. Dying wouldn’t be so bad, if it was for a reason.

I kicked out from under the table again and squeezed off more shots. The two guys fell back, but I think I hit one. He screamed in pain, and as I tried to scramble away, my wound flared up. I gasped and my arms buckled, and I fell onto my face on the slick, dirty floor. Any second, those two bastards would come out of cover and finish me off, and I was completely exposed.

But the front door crashed open. Five men spilled into the room—five men that I recognized. Valentino guys, the Don’s entire squad. They exchanged fire with the two Healy men, but the Valentinos quickly overwhelmed them.

“Not him,” I managed to yell, pointing at Shaun. “He’s okay, not him.”

Shaun stayed on the floor, hands up above his head, and the Valentino squad roughly pulled him to his feet, but didn’t put a bullet in his head.