Chapter 14 - In the Crossfire
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The peace of the hallway was instantly shattered by the deafening sound of automatic gunfire erupting from the front driveway.
The Falcone shooters had realized their cover was blown. They were assaulting the front doors of the mansion.
“We need to move. Now,” Leandro ordered, his lethal instincts taking over. He grabbed Nevaeh's hand, pulling her toward the back service stairwell.
They ran down the narrow, dimly lit hallway, the sounds of destruction echoing behind them. The estate was a war zone. Marco and the security team were returning fire from the grand foyer, but the Falcones had brought heavy artillery.
As they reached the kitchen, the heavy wooden doors burst open.
Three heavily armed Falcone hitmen stepped into the room, their assault rifles raised.
Leandro pushed Nevaeh violently behind a massive marble island, raising his weapon to fire. He took down the first man with a shot to the chest, but the second one fired a burst that clipped Leandro's shoulder.
Leandro grunted in pain, dropping to one knee, blood blossoming instantly across the shoulder of his crisp white shirt.
“Leandro!” Nevaeh screamed.
The third gunman aimed his rifle directly at Nevaeh's exposed position.
Nevaeh squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for the impact.
But the gunshot never came.
Instead, a heavy cast-iron skillet flew through the air, smashing violently into the side of the gunman's head. The chef, who had been hiding in the pantry, had thrown it with terrifying accuracy. The gunman collapsed backward, unconscious.
Leandro didn't waste the opportunity. He fired twice, neutralizing the remaining attackers in the kitchen.
“Come on,” Leandro gritted out, his face pale as he pushed himself up. “The panic room is under the wine cellar.”
They ran down the stairs into the damp, cold basement. Gunfire continued to echo above them.
Leandro threw open a hidden steel door concealed behind a rack of vintage Bordeaux, shoving Nevaeh inside before sealing the heavy vault behind them.
The bunker was silent, the thick steel walls instantly cutting off the sounds of the war raging above them.
Nevaeh immediately rushed to Leandro, ripping a piece of fabric from her torn red dress to press against the bullet wound in his shoulder.
“I'm fine,” Leandro said gruffly, trying to push her hands away. “It went clean through.”
“Shut up and let me help you,” Nevaeh snapped, her hands trembling as she tied the makeshift bandage tightly.
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Leandro stopped fighting her. He looked down at her worried, tear-streaked face, and the fierce, commanding way she took control of him.
“You are spectacular,” Leandro whispered, raising his good hand to cup her cheek, smearing a bit of blood on her skin.
