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Her peaceful calm began to dissipate. “Don’t. I—”
The sudden cacophony of shouts and shots from the dining room blew her orgasms’ aftereffects away.
Vespa raced out of the pantry with her gun already pulled and her mind blank.
The gunshots had passed by the time she burst out among the others. At the front of the restaurant, the bulletproof glass webbed around the multitude of bullets that it had stopped.
Nera and Giovanni huddled together with their guns out, sharing a look as they stayed down in the quiet that followed.
Vespa’s gaze shot past them to find Beatrice pushing down Montrell where he lay on the floor.
“Montrell!” Vespa shouted, skidding over to him.
Beatrice sent her a look. “He’s not hit. I’m just sitting on him to keep him from chasing after whoever shot at us.”
“Ah, Bea, why ya gotta do that?” Montrell said in a whiny, boyish voice.
Vespa went cold. She’d forgotten the wine.
Beatrice leaned forward to cup his cheek over his beard. “That’s why. You’re adorable with a sip of alcohol but not the clearest thinker. I promised I’d get you home safe, and I’m going to do that.”
Vespa’s chest pounded as she stared at them. Montrell was fine. He had Beatrice, and he was fine.
Her boots carried her to the front door.
A hand clamped on her arm before she could open it. “Let our soldiers handle it, Vespa,” Antonio said in a clipped voice.
Vespa tried to shake him off. “It was a drive-by. No one is out there anymore, and I want to know if the boys saw anything.”
His hand only tightened. “You’re not opening the door.”
His order pissed her off, but movement drew her gaze to Giovanni and Nera, who were just past his shoulder, and she remembered he had skin in the game too. Her hand dropped away from the door. “I’m sorry. I told you they’d be safe here. If—”
“I’m not worried about Giovanni!” Antonio shook her arm as he shouted. “Vespa! That drive-by was to lure you out in the open. Or did you forget you’re a target?”
Her lip curled. “I don’t need you to protect me, Di Salvo.”
“Then don’t act like an idiot!” He was still shouting. She didn’t think she’d ever heard him yell before.
It made it easier to release some of her own anger. “I’m not an idiot! I’ve been a target before!” She jerked free of him. “It’s better to be an easy target. Less waiting bullshit, and I get to kill them. It’s a win-win.”
Antonio’s jaw flexed. “Luck will only get you so far.”
Vespa wanted to laugh hysterically or slug him; the only thing holding her back was deciding which. Luck was the biggest bitch to her by far, and Antonio was delusional if he thought otherwise.
What the fuck had she been thinking, letting them all act like one big, happy family at the restaurant? Letting Montrell drink? If—
A throat clearing from behind them scattered her thoughts.
“Luka’s back,” Giovanni said.
Vespa blinked at the shadow of a man she’d forgotten, only then remembering that she’d passed Alina standing against the wall alone.
Vespa stepped away from Antonio as she listened to the assassin provide information in his stilted way. The news was what she expected. Rossi had known perfectly well where they were; he’d met with Beatrice and Montrell at the restaurant hours before. Or, at least, he’d known that they were there, but not her. Something inside her settled.
She crouched by Montrell and helped Beatrice pull him up as her mind spun.
Antonio thought she relied on luck.
