Headhunter (With Me in Seattle Mafia #2) - Kristen Proby Page 0,57

block, just to be sure that everything is calm, and then we’ll park a few houses down so we don’t draw attention.”

“Right.” She blows out a breath. “Sorry, I’m impatient. And I’m so damn mad.”

“Impatience will get you killed,” Curt says from behind her. “Slow your body down, Ivie. Take a deep breath, then another. Calm your mind. If you rush, if you let your anger lead, you’ll fail.”

“I won’t fail,” she vows softly and follows Curt’s orders by taking a deep breath.

When we’ve parked several houses down from Pavlov, I reach for the door handle, but Ivie stops me.

“I’m going in alone.”

“Ivie—”

“I know you want to protect me.” She takes my hand and gazes up at me with those intense blue eyes. “I know that. It’s who you are, Shane, and I appreciate you so much. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. But like I said earlier, I’m no damsel in distress here. You made sure of that. I’ve been training for this for weeks, and I didn’t even realize it. I need time with him. I have things to say.”

“You have fifteen minutes,” I reply reluctantly. “And then we’re coming in. This isn’t up for negotiation.”

“I’d take that offer,” Carmine says. “It’s the best you’ll get from us.”

“Okay, I’ll see you soon.” She nods once and then, without hesitation, steps from the vehicle, looks both ways, and crosses the street. She walks up the sidewalk and then up the steps to the front porch.

She doesn’t bother knocking, just walks right inside. My gut twists.

“Jesus.” I pull my hand down my face in frustration. “I never would have thought I’d let her do this.”

“She needs it,” Curt says. “And I know how she feels.”

After everything Curt’s been through, he would understand perfectly.

“Yeah, well, she’s not a trained operative.”

“But she’s trained with her weapon and hand-to-hand. Her father is an old man now. She can protect herself.”

“It’s different when it’s blood,” Nadia says, her voice hollow as she stares at the door Ivie just walked through.

Nadia killed her brother earlier this year after discovering he was behind a plot to double-cross his family.

I can’t imagine the bad moments she’s had since then, even knowing that what she did was the right thing.

Carmine wraps his arm around her shoulders and whispers something in her ear.

We’re quiet for a long moment, and then Rocco says quietly, “Is the hair standing up on anyone else’s neck?”

“Something isn’t right,” Carmine agrees.

The air is too still.

It’s too quiet.

“Let’s go.” I pull my weapon from its holster. “Nadia and Carmine, take the right side of the house. Curt and I will take the left. Rocco—”

“I’m going up,” my brother says with a hard voice.

We can’t see the roof of the house from here. I don’t know how Rocco intends to do what he has planned, but he’s more than capable.

With weapons drawn, we move silently across the street to the house. My heart is pounding harder than it ever has on any other mission. I’m usually like stone, perfectly calm. But I’ve never faced the possibility of losing someone I love on a mission before. This is new territory.

I don’t plan to ever repeat it.

I just keep silently berating myself for letting her go in alone. I should be in there with her. I should be by her side.

But then Curt’s words come into my head. If I let the frustration, the fear, take over, I’ll lose. I have to remain focused and steady. For her sake and that of everyone here.

We’re a team, and we have a fucking job to do.

As soon as Curt and I walk around the house’s left corner, we come face-to-face with two armed men dressed in black.

We silently neutralize them and keep walking, leaving the bodies where they fell.

How did we not see them from the front? Were they hiding?

What the hell is happening here?

We slip around the corner to the back yard in time to see Carmine and Nadia kill two men. Curt and I take care of two more headed their way.

“Six?” I ask.

“Eight,” Carmine replies.

“Twelve,” Rocco says as he jumps down from above.

“Jesus,” I whisper and immediately move to the back door.

“There are men inside,” Carmine says grimly. “I counted two in the kitchen. I saw three people in the living room, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t more.”

“There’s no one upstairs,” Rocco adds. “It’s clear.”

We kill two more in the kitchen.

Fourteen men.

I motion for the others to stop and be silent, and I quickly look