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I let out a sigh because that means we’re going to have to call in favors and bribe lots of officials to keep Damiano’s ass out of prison.
But what he wants, he gets, so none of us argue.
When the convoy of SUVs pulls up to the club, I glance around the area.
It’s quiet outside the club because it’s early and the place isn’t open yet.
“What do you want to do?” Renzo asks Damiano.
“Let’s go knock on the door,” he mutters as he shoves the door open.
“You think they’re just going to open for us?” Renzo asks as we all climb out of the SUV.
“Of course not,” Damiano growls, giving Renzo a what the fuck look. “I’m not fucking stupid.” Lifting his arm, he signals for his men to come.
When I see the grenade launcher, I shake my head. Everyone’s going to hear the explosion.
Angelo and I glance at each other, and I can see he’s worried about Damiano. Even for our boss, who’s done some crazy shit, this is a little reckless.
“Blow the door,” Damiano orders.
Leaving my rifle in the car because I sure as shit won’t need it in a club, I pull one of my Heckler & Kochs from behind my back, where it’s tucked into my waistband.
Renzo and Angelo also hold their guns ready.
The grenade blows a hole in the front of the club, and I suck in a deep breath of air before I follow my friends over the rubble and into a dark hallway.
Smoke hangs in the air, and I duck my head low, trying to avoid inhaling it.
As soon as we reach an open space with a dance floor and bars, the fuckers open fire on us.
Renzo and I duck to the side and run toward a bar, where we take cover. I have no idea where Angelo and Damiano went.
Renzo shakes his head and mutters, “Damiano seriously needs to get laid. It will do wonders for his temper.” He darts up, takes a quick look, then crouches in front of me again. “Cover me. I’m going to make a run for the DJ’s booth.”
He darts out from behind the bar, and I shoot up and open fire on the fuckers that are on the second floor while mumbling, “Who the fuck’s going to cover me?”
I watch as a bullet clips Renzo’s arm just as he ducks behind the booth and take out the fucker who shot my friend before I make a run for it.
Don’t get yourself killed today, Dario.
Chapter 37
Dario
I feel a stinging sensation across my side as a bullet narrowly misses me before I fall and slide straight into Renzo.
“Christ,” he grunts. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” I check the magazine in my gun, then I slam it back into place. “We should’ve brought machine guns,” I mutter as I move into a crouching position.
“You’re bleeding,” Renzo says, pulling the fabric of my shirt away from my side.
“So are you. Two grazed me. How’s your arm?”
“The bullet didn’t go deep. I’ll live.”
“You better.”
