Page 69 of Lucky
I glance at her, my pulse hammering. “Do you know how to handle a gun?”
Her chin lifts defiantly. “I’m a good aim.”
“Good.” I pull a pistol from the tabernacle and thrust it into her hands. “Get all the women into one of the back rooms. Lock the door. After that, I need you up front—inside the chapel. If anyone comes through that door who doesn’t belong, you shoot. No hesitation. You hear me?”
Her eyes widen for a fraction of a second before they harden. With a curt nod, she grips the weapon, her knuckles white.
“And you?”
I’m already loading a clip into my own weapon. “Out the back,” I tell her. “There are men cutting through the field beyond the cemetery. Someone has to hold them off.”
Allegra doesn’t argue. Instead, her gaze flicks down to the weapons in front of us. “Take that,” she says, tipping her chin toward an assault rifle.
She grabs one for herself, checking the magazine with a calm efficiency that would put most soldiers to shame. Slinging it over her shoulder, she meets my eyes with a steady look that makes my chest tighten.
“Stay safe, Allegra. For Scar. For Scarlett.” My voice echoes off the vaulted ceiling, heavier than I intend.
A grin tugs at her lips—a fearless, reckless smile. “Don’t worry about me.” She shoulders the rifle and flashes a smirk that’s pure determination. “I’ll see you in a bit.”
For a moment, I hesitate, memorizing her face, the fire in her eyes, the way she moves like nothing can touch her. Then I turn toward the back door, gripping my weapon tight.
Neither of us plans to die today. And God help the men who try to take that away from us.
35
THE ENFORCER
My mama used to say to me “boy, you have lousy timing, don’t you?”
That was usually when I’d walk in on her courting a new romance.
The man who birthed me was violent and abusive as all fuck. I watched him beat the ever-loving crap out of her all my life, until I grew some balls when I was seventeen and put an end tothatlove story. Beat the crap right out of him, then tossed him in his car and drove it down the riverbank. Far as anyone knows, he just up and left. Packed his shit and took off. If he’s ever found, well, his bags are in the trunk of that damn car to prove that theory.
The bugs that came after him were no better. It’s like mama was a magnet for bad men. Vile, vicious, dirty men who liked to talk with their fists. Even when she didn’t have to stay, when I was making enough money to support and look after her, she still stayed. I could never understand her attraction to the low life’s she spent time with.
Truth is, she never stood a chance, my mama. She’s that person that, when faced with an opportunity, she throws it backin your face and goes on making the same mistake. Over and over and over again.
I can safely say that my mama created a monster in me. The life she submitted herself to shaped the man I am today. I don’t condone violence against women in any way, shape or form, but I’m not going to lie and say I trust them, either. Do women even know what they want half the fucking time?
Not my business what anybody does, but being a lone wolf has worked out just fine for me.
Until now.
Until I met the Gattis and did a few jobs for them. Until I saw them in action and something scraped at the edge of my cold and damaged heart. That business with Frank Falcone? The way they banded together as one unit and had each other’s backs? I’ve never had that. I’ve never wanted it. But the longer I watched them, and the more I got to know them, the more I understood what had been lacking in my life all these years.
Brotherhood.
The way they stand in the same room and know what the other is thinking even before a word is uttered…it’s priceless. The way they look at their partners in reverence, the way they treat their women like queens – the total opposite of what I’ve been around all my life, and although it baffles the fuck right out of me, that’s what I want to see for the rest of my demented life. The way they function, as four pieces of a whole, knowing that to lose one would be catastrophic, has me weaving a thin, protective layer around them.
My affiliation with the Gattis is largely unknown, which is just the way I like things to be. I make it my business to listen when it comes to anything to do with the Gatti brothers. I’m awake and I’m alert, and I don’t miss a beat. Brando Gatti’s wedding was supposed to be a small, intimate affair with only a dozen or so people in attendance. It may be a smallcongregation, but there’s no disputing the largesse of those that will be in attendance. Having Seattle at your wedding is akin to a royal wedding.
It's my mother’s word that play on a loop in my head right now.
“Boy, you have lousy timing, don’t you?”
“Boy, you have lousy timing, don’t you?”
“Boy, you have lousy timing…”