Chapter 23

CLEO

T he cafe’s entrance swung open with a chime.

The staff, bustling about moments ago, appeared to vanish into thin air, behind closed doors. An eerie silence descended upon the room, broken only by heavy footsteps against the linoleum floor.

Four men strutted into the cafe, their posture oozing arrogance and menace. Their eyes scanned the room like hunters searching for prey.

I froze, realizing, with a shard of frigid angst, why Alessio had slipped out.

The Contis were on the prowl, and not just the sons.

The father himself.

Franco swaggered into the space, a towering figure, his presence heavy and hard.

The years had carved deep lines into his weathered face, each crease telling a story of violence, power, and survival.

His dark hair, cut close to the skull, had turned all silver. His skin, tanned and rough like worn leather, was marked with tattoos—inked symbols of his past that wound around his forearms and up his neck, disappearing beneath his top collar.

The faded designs, from the snapping shark on his bicep to the snake coiled around his wrist, hinted at the ominousness oozing from him. The tattoos were old, their edges blurred, but they still held a quiet warning, reminders of battles fought and won.

His cold and calculating eyes were the color of steel, hardened from years of seeing too much. They missed nothing, scanning the room with a sharpness that left no room for doubt—this man was vicious.

His thick and scarred hands rested loosely at his sides, but they held an underlying tension, like a tight spring ready to strike at the slightest provocation.

The sweats he wore, which I deduced were fresh from prison, couldn’t mask the raw, nasty edge of him.

Seeing him sent splinters of panic over me, an anxiety attack threatening.

Here was a man who had built his largesse through blood and brutality, and the air around him crackled with terror.

Bill, jaw firm, body braced for trouble, emerged from around the counter, his smaller frame juxtaposed against the newcomer’s formidable figure.

‘Franco, you and your boys will either put those guns away, or you’ll need to leave now,’ he admonished.

The Conti Don pressed his mouth into a thin, bitter line.

‘Fuck off, Nichols,’ Franco snarled. ‘I’m now back, and I still run this freakin’ town. You don’t tell me what to do.’

Bill, however, was no coward.

He stepped forward, lifting his hands. ‘Get the hell out.’

Without warning, Franco’s firearm went off, the loud sound cracking through the room.

I jolted as Bill groaned in agony and dropped to one knee, clutching his thigh.

Franco advanced on the fallen man, gun smoking. ‘You dare spew your shit?’ he screamed. ‘You attemptin’ to order me around?’

The voice I remembered from all those years ago triggered ice-cold fear in me, my heart erupting and shaking, praying Alessio would make it back before this bomb went off.

‘You damn fuck!’ Bill cried, still prone, one hand to his wound, blood oozing between his fingers.

He tilted his head back and glared at Franco. ‘What the fuck’s the matter with you? You shot me! You aiming to return right back into the slammer?’

‘I’m endeavoring to procure what’s mine.’

I’d seen enough.

‘Franco Conti,’ I growled, rising from behind my booth, my voice dripping with disdain. ‘Still a coward, going after the innocent.’

I clenched my fists as they trembled, willing myself to stay calm.

I laser-focused on the arrogant swine before me.

The cult leader had aged over the years.

Still, he was a commanding figure who’d managed to manipulate many with his cursed tongue and creepy, oily car salesman vibe.

He stepped forward with a cruel twist to his lips, his eyes never leaving my face.

‘There she is, my prize and lady,’ his lecherous voice intoned. ‘We got a call saying you’d be here. Why don’t you come closer, wife, and give me the kiss I’ve been waiting for all these years?’

My breath caught as my darkest nightmare unfolded.

That’s when I saw a silhouette ease through the open door and loom behind Franco.

I released a shaky exhalation in relief at the sight of not just any man; my man. He exuded a power taken, not given, commanding sheer fear.

My eyes locked onto his vortex of sheathed strength towering behind the unwitting quartet.

Franco’s hubris was about to get torn up.

ALESSIO

‘Put your fuckin’ weapons down.’

The men before me froze, limbs locking, breaths hitching.

‘I’ve got a 12 freakin’ gauge aimed at the back of Franco’s head. So unless you want to be plastered by his brains and pulp, you’ll do as I damn well say.’

I sliced my eyes at my woman and tagged her wooden expression, knowing she was tense and on the edge of panic.

I’d tagged how her eyes darted to Franco, jolting at his brazen ask for a kiss .

Like hell, I’d let him touch her, I thought, my jaw clenching with barely suppressed rage.

Over my dead body .

‘Do it now!’ I snarled.

The Contis exchanged glances and relented, raising their hands in surrender and bending to place their guns on the floor.

‘Kick them to Cleo.’

They gave a collective groan.

‘Fuckin’ do it, or your old man’s skull is egg salad.’

They did as I demanded, flicking their feet to slide the weapons towards my woman.

I jerked my chin, and she picked them up, turning one on the cursing men.

‘Mr Nichols, are you OK?’

I addressed the injured man, who had fallen silent, clenching his jaw and still clutching his thigh.

‘I’ll live,’ he murmured.

‘Nancy, please help your husband.’

His wife rushed from the kitchen where she’d been hiding. She shot me a grateful look, then, with the aid of a server, helped her man to his feet, and they limped away.

Once they were clear, I prowled around the room until my body and weapon were between Cleo and the quartet.

I sized up my opponents, my muscles tensed, ready for action.

My eyes raked over Franco.

‘Fuck, you’ve aged,’ I growled. ‘Prison sure sucked the life out of you.’

The jailbird’s eyes narrowed, and he stepped forward, his fists clenching at his sides .

His sons flanked him, their stances aggressive and menacing.

‘Who the hell are you?’ he snarled, his gaze flicking from me to Cleo. ‘This is a matter for me and my fiancee. Stay out of it, or you’ll regret it.’

I barked out a harsh laugh, shaking my head in disbelief. ‘Your fuckin’ what? You delusional piece of shit. She was never yours, and she never will be.’

As I spoke, I felt Cleo’s hand on my arm, her fingers digging into my skin.

I glanced down at her, tagging the wariness and defiance warring in her eyes. She shook her head, pleading with me not to escalate the situation.

I can’t back down now, carissima, I thought, my resolve hardening.

I wouldn’t let him hurt her again. Not when I was still breathing.

I turned back to Franco, my stance widening as I prepared for the inevitable confrontation. ‘You want her? You’ll have to go through me first,’ I declared, my voice ringing with conviction. ‘And trust me, that’s a fight you don’t want to pick.’

Conti’s sons shifted behind him, their faces still bearing the marks of our last encounter.

Fabio’s nose was crooked, a testament to the solid right hook I’d landed, while Bruno sported a nasty black eye.

The eldest Rocco appeared wary, his jaw still bandaged and his gaze darting from his father and me.

‘You think you’re some kind of tough guy?’ Franco sneered, his lips curling into a mocking smile. ‘You have no idea who you’re dealing with. I own this town, and I always get what I want.’

I took a step forward, closing the distance.

‘Not this time,’ I rumbled with a menacing smirk. ‘You’re nothing but a coward who preys on the weak. But you picked the wrong mofo to mess with.’

Franco’s eyes flashed with rage, and he lunged at me, his fists swinging.

I lifted my gun hand, making a point of fighting them one-handed.

I dodged his clumsy attack with ease, my reflexes honed by years of training.

I countered with a swift jab to his solar plexus and a devastating uppercut that snapped his head back.

As Franco staggered backward, his sons moved to intervene, but I was ready for them.

I spun around, delivering a roundhouse kick to Fabio’s chest that sent him crashing into a nearby table.

Bruno and Rocco hesitated, open-eyed with fear.

I turned back to Franco, who was struggling to catch his breath, his face contorted with pain and humiliation.

‘Last chance,’ I warned, my voice cold and unyielding. ‘Walk away now, and don’t ever come near Cleo again. Or I swear I’ll make you regret the day you were born.’

Franco glared at me, his eyes burning with hatred and defiance. ‘You think you can threaten me?’ he snarled, spitting blood onto the floor. ‘I’ve been dealing with punks like you my whole life. You’re nothing exceptional.’

I let out a mirthless chuckle, shaking my head. ‘You still don’t grasp it, do you? I’m not some small-time thug you can intimidate with your cheap guns and sweet talk. I’m the man who brought you down the first time, and I’m here to bring you down once and for all.’

I took a step closer, my timbre dropping to a whisper. ‘I know all about your dirty little secrets, Franco. The loose lips in prison that led to the deaths of my mother and father.’

Cleo’s breath hitched from somewhere behind me, and I comprehended I’d have some explaining to do.

Not now, however.

All I wanted at this moment was to nail Franco’s ass to the wall and tear his balls from his sack.

‘Who the fuck are you?’ Franco asked, this time with terror lacing his utterance.

‘Who the fuck am I? Don’t recognize me, mofo? I’m the man who gunned you down and handed you to the authorities all those years ago. I’m the reason you suffered in prison, but not enough, it appears. You can’t stay away from Cleo. So now retribution won’t keep away from you.’

Franco’s face paled, and I tagged the fear in his eyes.

He sensed I wasn’t bluffing.

‘You’re lying,’ he stammered, but his intonation lacked conviction. ‘Vaffanculo!’

I smiled a chilly, predatory grin. ‘Damn, it seems you’ve no idea who you’re insulting. Let me remind you. I’m your worst nightmare, the monster who destroys everything of yours that he touches and will never go away until you do.’

Franco’s shoulders slumped, but he still blustered, snarling at me. ‘What do you want?’

I leaned in close, my lips brushing against his ear. ‘I want you to disappear,’ I said, cold and unforgiving. ‘Depart this town, leave Cleo, and never come back. If I ever tag your fuckin’ face lurking again, I’ll make sure mine is the last one you have eyes on. Capisce, you octogenarian? ’

My ultimatum was more than he could handle, and Franco rotated to his sons and screamed. ‘What the fuck are you waiting for? Get him!’

‘Tsk, tsk tsk,’ I drawled, aiming my shotgun at his three progeny. ‘They can try and rush me and sacrifice two of your own in an instant. You may even lose Rocco because I’m that fast of a draw. Before you dismiss me, ask your boys what I did with a hoe. What I can do with a 12 gauge is way worse.’

Franco painted on a contemptuous smile, one mired in dark wrath. ‘Cleo, so you’ve gone and got yourself a stand-in Rambo-type boyfriend. It’s OK. I understand; you needed a body to keep you warm until I returned. Now I’m back, you can drop him, my queen. I’m back, and you can return to me.’

‘I was never yours. I’m everything you want but can’t have,’ Cleo breathed.

Franco shook with rage as he shifted his gaze to me.

‘Stronzo!’ the older man said, spitting onto the cafe floor. ‘This asshole has turned you against me, and he will pay. Watch your backs!’

His last words were an enraged shout.

‘Get the fokk outta here,’ I drawled, brandishing my weapon and hinting at their exit.

Franco hesitated, glowering at me in a long stare.

‘Appears the gates are down, the lights are flashing, but the train isn’t roaring through,’ I rasped.

Finally, the message hit home.

With a snarl, the affronted cult leader and his offspring turned and lit out of the cafe, sending hot glares our way.

‘Fuckin’ good riddance,’ I growled as they slid into their trucks and dusted off. ‘Seems the kind of man who sets low personal standards and consistently fails to achieve them. ’

I sliced my eyes to Cleo. ‘You fine, cara?’

She tracked to my side and wrapped an arm around me. ‘That was about to be the gunfight at the OK Corral. Why are you not acting more worried?’ she scolded.

‘You haven’t seen me shoot, woman. They had nothing on me.’

‘Are you saying you’re fast?’

‘As lightning. When you see my guns go off, you might come in your pants.’

She laughed soft and husky, which was my end goal.

Around us, the staff sidled back in, with Mrs Nichols striding to me.

She took my hands, tears in her eyes. ‘Appreciate you clearing those shitheads away.’

‘How’s your husband?’

‘It’s a flesh wound. I’ve got the town nurse to come into the back. Thank you so much,’ she whispered, her voice trailing off.

I jerked my chin to her. ‘You’re welcome.’

I turned to Cleo. ‘I have to do something, bella.’

While my woman helped the cafe staff clean up, I strode back to our booth and sat, turning on my phone for the first time in days.

The network bars and Wi-Fi signal flickered as messages and missed calls, most from Mauri and Lorenzo, pinged in.

I chose not to call my brother.

Instead, I sent a text reassuring the mofo that I was okay and that I’d made an oath to help a friend and to be on standby.

I also flicked over photos Cleo and I had taken of the Conti farm to Mauri and Lorenzo.

In minutes, I received a response from Lorenzo saying he’d send them to Sovereign and Saint Tahana, who’d ensure the AFP would look into it.

Fuck yeah.