Chapter 7 - The Underboss's Desperate Stand
The blast sent splinters of oak and shards of French terrace glass flying across
the room.
Lorenzo absorbed the shockwave with his broad back, keeping Beatrice completely
shielded beneath him on the Persian rug. His ears rang with a high-pitched
whine, but his mind stayed razor sharp.
Through the drifting gray smoke, three tactical operatives in black gear without
official badges stormed through the shattered terrace.
Not federal agents.
Sterling’s private death squad, dressed in mock tactical uniforms to execute
everyone inside before the legitimate marshals could enter.
Lorenzo rolled off Beatrice, drew his weapon, and fired three precise shots
through the smoke.
The lead operative dropped instantly.
The second lunged behind a marble bust, opening fire with an automatic
submachine gun, chewing through the antique mahogany bookshelves and sending
shredded literature raining down like confetti.
Lorenzo was pinned behind the heavy oak desk.
The third operative moved around the flank, raising his weapon point-blank at
Lorenzo’s exposed side.
Lorenzo braced to dive—
Suddenly, Beatrice lunged from the shadows behind the flanking shooter.
Using every ounce of her strength and body weight, she slammed a towering,
five-hundred-pound solid mahogany display cabinet directly into the gunman's
back.
The massive piece of furniture toppled with a deafening crash, crushing the
operative against the floor and pinning his weapon beneath hundreds of pounds of
timber and shattered porcelain.
The distraction gave Lorenzo the exact half-second he needed.
He leaned around the desk and eliminated the final shooter with a double tap to
the chest.
Silence descended over the ruined library, broken only by the settling smoke and
the wail of sirens outside.
Lorenzo stood up, his suit covered in plaster dust, breathing heavily.
He walked over to the toppled cabinet where Beatrice stood, her chest heaving,
her curls wild, her hands scratched, staring at what she had just done.
Lorenzo looked at the pinned operative, then looked at Beatrice.
A slow, breathtaking smile spread across his face.
"Remind me never to get on your bad side," Lorenzo said.
Beatrice let out a trembling, half-hysterical laugh, wiping soot from her
forehead. "I told you... I grew up in Hialeah."
Lorenzo closed the distance between them, reached out, and pulled her into his
arms. He held her tight against his chest, completely unbothered by the dust,
the danger, or the chaos around them.
May you like
Beatrice froze for a moment, overwhelmed by the feeling of his strong arms
wrapped securely around her, before she slowly rested her hands against his
broad back, sinking into his warmth.
"You saved my life twice in one night, Beatrice," Lorenzo murmured against her
hair. "Now let's go finish this."
