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We climb out of the SUVs, then Renzo asks, “What do you want to do?”
“Let’s go knock on the door,” I mutter.
“You think they’re just going to open for us?” Renzo asks another question.
All the fucking questions are starting to aggravate me, and I growl, “Of course not. I’m not fucking stupid.”
Lifting my arm, I signal for my men to move closer.
I look at Tommy, who’s carrying a grenade launcher, and order, “Blow the door.”
I can feel Angelo, Renzo, and Dario staring at me, but ignore them.
Tommy launches the grenade, and I watch with satisfaction as it blows a hole in the front of the club.
When I stalk toward the hole, my men follow. I pull my Glock from behind my back and take off the safety.
Carlo shoves an extra magazine into my hand before he takes the lead while ordering, “Stay behind me.”
The air is filled with smoke, and I glance over my shoulder, finding Angelo right behind me.
Our eyes meet momentarily, then we reach the end of the hallway. When Carlo sets foot in a dance area, gunfire erupts around us.
“Move!” Carlo shouts, and when he ducks to the left, I follow him, my arm lifting as I return fire to the second floor, that must be the VIP area.
Miguel is definitely here.
We duck into a hallway that leads to a restroom, and with the meager cover, Carlo and I try to pick off the enemy one by one.
When Angelo tries to move forward to help out, I mutter, “We’ve got this.”
There’s a lone fucker with a submachine gun hiding behind the pillar.
Not knowing the whereabouts of the rest of my team, I shout, “Where the fuck are you?”
“DJ’s booth,” Renzo yells.
Fuck, they don’t have a clear shot of the bastard.
Suddenly Carlo darts out from behind our hiding place, and my heart fucking stops as I watch him slide across the floor before he ends the fucker with a kill shot to the head.
When he climbs to his feet, I nod at him with pride filling my chest, then I shout at the others, “Get your asses out here.”
Carlo catches up to me as I head for the stairs, and when we’re heading up them, I mutter, “Good job.”
“Thanks,” he breathes as he reloads his gun.
Halfway up, I glance behind me where Angelo and Big Ricky are, then I see Dario running toward us while Renzo keeps an eye out for any stragglers.
This is too fucking easy.
As soon as the VIP area comes into view, my eyes lock on Miguel. He’s seated at a table, with his men forming a half circle around him.
What the fuck is he playing at?
“Did you really have to go to all this trouble?” Miguel asks, his eyes locked on me.
“Yes,” I mutter as I pull out a chair and take a seat at the table. Looking at Carlo, I nod toward the bar.
