Page 20 of The Bond

I barked several orders to the security officer, commanding him to keep tracking the gunman down.

“Understood, sir,” the security officer said. “I would advise you to head to the reception venue ASAP. It’s a smaller venue and therefore much safer.”

Right, the wedding reception was going to be held at one of the Romano hotels.

As much as I currently distrusted Don Romano, he wouldn’t be stupid or brazen enough to attack me so close to his daughter or his wife. And definitely not out in the open. Valentina would be much safer in one of her father’s hotels than in a compromised church. The Romanos knew their own properties better than they knew this church and its surroundings. I had to get Valentina out of here—fast.

“Where are my parents?” she asked me, her voice tinged with panic. “Are they okay?”

I lifted my head above the pews to take a look around. Her parents were sitting at their place in the front pew near the altar, with Don Romano laying his body over his wife Bridget.

“Valentina!” Don Romano shouted.

“Valentina, are you out there?” her mother cried.

“I’ve got her,” I shouted back, reassuring her parents.

As I averted my gaze away from the Romanos, I spotted my mother and father at their place on the opposite side of the aisle, my father crouching on the ground, gun drawn with a shaky hand as he shielded my mother. We had all followed the same instinct and done what was necessary to protect our wives. Probably the one and only thing that Don Romano, my father, and I all had in common. Complete commitment to ensuring our wives’ safety. I was finally starting to understand why my father would be crazy enough to set up an arranged marriage to stop all-out war. He had been desperate to protect his family, including me. If he could get to control the Romanos as an added bonus, my old man would take that too.

Before meeting Valentina, I hadn’t fully grasped the drive a man could have to do anything to protect what was his. My love and loyalty to my brothers, my parents, and my uncle paled into insignificance where Valentina was considered. Not because I didn’t love them—I did—but because I had a duty to Valentina that I didn’t have as a son, brother, or nephew.

A fiancée, a wife, really changed calculations in ways I hadn’t anticipated. Husbands and fathers had a responsibility that someone who was solely a son could not fully understand. I could see that now. My father was impulsive, aggressive, and yet...

He would stop at nothing to amass the power he needed to protect what was his. Much as my dad’s decisions pissed me off, I could see how a man could be pushed to such desperate extremes.

For the first time in my life, I found that I understood my father.

“Stay put, Dad,” I yelled.

My old man nodded. “Be careful, Lorenzo.”

“We need to get to my parents,” Valentina said.

“Valentina—”

“Listen to me, Enzo, we have to get over there,” she insisted. “Not only is it near our parents, but it’s also as far away from the gunfire as we can get.”

She was right.

Nodding, I helped her up and hustled her down the aisle over to her parents. We crouched low, keeping the pew in front of us in case of more gunfire.

“We can get out through the side entrance,” Don Romano said. “Let me test it first. Once I’ve made sure that way is safe, we can all help the others get out of here.”

In spite of my distrust, I respected him for risking himself to help everyone else escape. That was the sign of a true leader and I admired him for it. Valentina’s loyalty to him was both infuriating yet also understandable. Don Romano was willing to face danger for his people. Of course that would inspire loyalty.

I looked over my shoulder and shouted to my father, “Dad, cover Valentina.”

My old man nodded again.

Then I turned to look back at Don Romano. “Don’t do this alone. I’ll come with you.”

Don Romano stared at me for a second too long, as if he was really seeing me for the first time. After that moment, he gave a nod, got to his feet, and kept his head down as he rushed toward one of the side doors.

I sprinted after him, pulling out my pistol from the chest holster strapped underneath my jacket.

Valentina’s father threw the door open where servers, deacons, and other members of church staff were hiding and holding onto each other in terror. Some of them cried out alarm when we entered, but when I held up my hands and told them we were part of the wedding, they all breathed sighs of relief.

With a gun in one hand, I went to check the door on the other side of the room, I opened it to find that it led out to a short passageway and then outside. There was no more sound of gunfire. Just security speaking into walkie talkies, searching the exterior for the gunman, or corralling people at the side of the church.