grip and opened the door of the kitchen cupboard. “Get in there.”
I shook my head. “Nonna, no. Let me fight.”
“These men have guns! Now climb in there, Gemma.” She kissed my forehead and practically shoved me down on my knees.
“Nonna,” I whispered.
She gave me a stern look. “Now.”
I crawled into the cupboard and pressed my legs against my chest.
“Swear not to come out, not to make a single sound, no matter what happens.”
Then Nonna closed the door. Not a second too soon. A bang sounded as the kitchen door flung inward and two men came inside. Through a tiny gap, I could see Nonna move toward them.
One of the men screamed something in Russian and then he pointed the gun at Nonna and… pulled the trigger. I jerked. Everything seemed to suddenly move slowly.
Nonna sank to the floor behind the kitchen island, out of my line of sight.
I couldn’t breathe.
The Russians said something else, then one of them left. The other moved toward where Nonna had been and whatever he did to her, it made her hand move so I saw it. Unmoving. Lifeless. Was she… was she dead?
A sob slipped out of me. The man straightened and he looked straight at me. I tensed as he stalked toward me and ripped open the door. He leered. “Ahhh, what have we here?” he said in a strong Russian accent.
Kneeling before me, he grasped my ankle and tried to pull me out. I kicked upward, thrusting my heel into his chest. He stumbled backward with a string of what sounded like curses.
I quickly scrambled out to get in a better fighting position, but before I could brace myself, he gripped my hair and ripped hard. I bit my lip, stifling a cry. If I made a sound, the other men would come running, and my opponent obviously didn’t want to call for help against a girl. He dragged me toward the door and past Nonna who stared at me with wide, lifeless eyes.
I twisted in his hold and drove my fist upward, ramming the heel of my hand into his nose. With a muffled groan, he released me, staggering back. He looked pissed. His nose spurting blood, he lunged at me at the same time as I aimed a high kick at his head. My foot collided with his chin, throwing it back. It smashed against the edge of a wall cabinet and his eyes went out of focus. He fell forward. My eyes went wide when he collided with me, taking me down with his much heavier body.
My head crashed against the floor. Stars burst in my vision and then all went black.
“We should talk to a few of the Underbosses with stronger Bratva Outposts and plan a simultaneous attack. They are getting too bold. We need to kill as many as possible in a single effort,” I said.
Diego nodded, scanning the map of our territory where Nino had marked the biggest Bratva strongholds. Diego had started working as an Enforcer alongside Fabiano, but because I trusted him the most from all the soldiers, he still accompanied me to dangerous missions. Despite the mess with his sister, he and I had come to a silent agreement—by pretending I wasn’t engaged to his sister. It was a cowardly thing to do and I knew I needed to get a grip, man up and finally ask Gemma to set a date for the wedding, but I had cold feet.
Diego pointed at L.A. and San Diego. “What about them?”
“No signs of Bratva yet,” I said. “They’re trying to get Las Vegas first. It’s a matter of prestige. Remo’s killed and tortured so many Bratva fuckers these last few weeks, but they keep popping up like weeds.”
My phone rang. Remo. “What’s up?”
“The Bratva attacked the Amalfi.”
It took my brain a moment to register his words. Gemma worked in the Amalfi every day. Even if I hadn’t contacted her in the last two months, I’d kept an eye on her.
“Nino and I are on our way.”
“What about Gemma?”
Diego rose from his chair, paling.
“We don’t know anything,” Remo said.
I pushed to my feet, staring at Diego. “The Bratva.” I didn’t need to say more. The Amalfi had been attacked before. In the fifties and sixties, it had been a Russian restaurant, run by the Bratva, before the Camorra had taken it from them. We ran toward my car, jumped in and I floored the gas, my heart beating in my fucking throat.