“Are you ready for dessert?”
I raised my brow. “What are we having?”
He grinned. “You if I had my way.” His finger swiped over my lip, fire igniting. My body did a full shiver. “Instead, I have tiramisu for you.” He snapped his fingers and a waiter brought out the dessert.
My mouth watered. Maybe I would just have a little.
“Ah. You like? I can tell by your flushed face.”
“Yes.”
The fork was right at my lips, the taste of the confection on the tip of my tongue, when all hell broke loose. The side door burst open, and everything happened so quickly it blurred.
“Floor. Now,” Jag barked.
I immediately listened, climbing under the lonely table for minuscule cover. Jag stood in front of me, and all I could see through his legs was a man with designer loafers and pressed dress pants stepping in front of him about four feet away. My thoughts flickered to Scraper and Hulk. Why the hell hadn’t they warned us? Shit. I hoped they were all right. Thoughts of blood seeping from Scraper’s body crept in my head, and I quickly shook my head to clear the mental images, listening intently to every word.
“Jag, boy, how’ve you been?” The low voice was one I recognized yet couldn’t place. Then the distinct sound of the cocking of a gun had my ears perking up.
“Damian, nice to see you again. To what do I owe this pleasure?” Jag’s calm voice spread inside of me, easing a bit of the tension I was feeling. Jag sounded as if he were talking to his best friend and not a man I assumed had a gun pointed at his head.
I racked my brain, trying to come up with who the hell this Damian guy was. Then it hit me. I had two of his accounts over at Lambardoni Enterprises. I had actually spoken to the fucker several times. I had never seen his face, but the voice was now unmistakable.
“Oh, the pleasure is all mine. My father paid a little visit to your ex-whore. I don’t know how you put up with that stupid bitch.”
Damian’s head peeked around the table, and I made eye contact with him. “See, you have a better piece of ass now, the boss’s daughter. Hi, Catarina. Nice to talk to you again.” He laughed, the disrespectful little shit. Fuck that.
I reached for my purse, pulling out my .9mm—Dad’s present to me about three years ago. Men seemed to underestimate me as a woman, thinking I couldn’t do shit. I called bullshit.
“Make your fucking point,” Jag growled low, his fists clenched so tightly all I could see was white. I bided my time.
“I can’t let you go back to California.” Damian sighed. “Can’t have the boss man there, after my dad. I’m not fucking stupid. I know that’s the first order.”
“You think I’m gonna just let you kill me? You’re fucking delusional.” Jag moved his hands from the side of the table until I could no longer see them.
I moved behind Jag’s leg and aimed my gun as discreetly as possible, unlocking the safety, ready to cock and fire at a moment’s notice. Then something behind us clattered loudly, taking everyone’s attention, and I took that as my opportunity.
My shot blew a hole in Damian’s shoulder, causing him to drop the gun. As it skittered across the floor, Damian started reaching behind his back, and I was afraid he had another gun, so I shot again, hitting Damian’s kneecap and sending him to the floor, landing on the other knee. His screams were deafening as blood leaked from his knee and flowed across the floor.
I slowly rose from the table and took in my surroundings. Scraper’s body was lying on the floor, but no blood was coming from it. The asshole standing over him had a gun cocked, ready to shoot.
Jag pulled a gun from somewhere and moved fast, slamming the butt into Damian’s head, stopping his wails instantly. Then he trained the gun on the guy who had Scraper while I put my gun on Damian, just in case he moved an inch.
“Back the fuck off, or I put a bullet in your fucking head.” Jag’s voice went beyond scary to the point of holy shit. Was that the same guy I had been sleeping with?
Ghost slipped in behind the man, and Jag’s body went taut.
I slid behind him and whispered in Jag’s ear, “That’s Ghost. He’s with me.”
Ghost easily removed the gun from the guy above Scraper, hitting him hard and knocking him out cold. His large body crashed to the floor.
“Tie him up,” Jag directed, and Ghost instantly got to work.
I could feel ice forming in my veins as I stared down at Damian, keeping my gun on him. He was younger than his voice suggested. With dark hair and brown eyes, he wasn’t a bad looking guy, but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t shoot him between the eyes.
I heard Jag talking on the phone, though I only heard bits of his conversation.
Holy. Shit. I actually shot a man, really shot him. I didn’t kill him, but I actually pulled the trigger, and a bullet went inside this man’s body, cutting into his leg and another in his shoulder. I should be mortified. I should be scared. I should be, shouldn’t I? That feeling didn’t seem to want to come like it should.
“Yeah, she’s perfectly safe.” I glanced over to Jag, nodding and giving him a meek reassurance that I was sure he saw through.
“Scraper is unconscious; Ghost is on Damian; his guy is tied up; and I swear to Christ, if my fucking men don’t get in here in the next two minutes, I’ll put a bullet in them.” As soon as the words left his mouth, Blondie barreled through the door.
Jag scowled at him, still holding the phone to his ear, his eyes glaring. “Where the fuck have you been?”
“Sorry, boss. They had three guys out front, and they tried subduing me. With that guy’s”—he pointed to Ghost—“help, they’re all dead.”
“Shit,” Jag grumbled then relayed the information to either my father or uncle. “Where the hell is Dan?”
“He’s not in here with you?” Blondie asked, surprised.
“Does it look like he’s fucking in here?”
Blondie took off, and then minutes later, he was dragging the big hunk of a man into the restaurant.
“What the fuck happened?”
“Hit to the head. Not sure what else. He’s breathing, though.” Blondie tried to say as he heaved for air. I couldn’t blame him; Hulk was a big man.
“You two, help him tie these fuckers up. Blondie, find the owner and waiters; get it sorted.” Jag stopped and wrapped his arms around me, burying his face into my hair and breathing me in. I felt his hand come up to my neck and rest on my vein that thudded under his touch. He kissed me on the temple before he pulled back, a bit of relief on his face.
“Catarina, please go check on Scraper and Hulk.”
I didn’t think twice about the orders, just got to work immediately. I looked down at the guy who had protected me for the past six years and the other whom I kind of liked and quickly checked them over. Bumps on the head. They were gonna be so pissed they had gotten knocked out like that when they woke up.
“Ghost!” Jag yelled, making me jump.
“Yeah?”
“After you’re done, go out and make sure it’s clear then start the cleanup.”
Ghost disappeared quickly, I assumed getting to business.
I looked down at Scraper. His chest was rising and falling with each breath, and his color looked good. The large knot on the side of his head was gonna hurt like a bitch. Hulk was the same way. Whatever had hit them was gonna give them a horrible headache, but nothing looked too serious, as long as they woke the hell up.
A phone was pushed into my face, and I turned to look into Jag’s eyes.
“Your dad.”
I took the phone, still clutching the gun in the other. “Hey, Daddy.”
“Are you okay?” Concern laced my father’s voice, and I could almost hear a quiver of despair.
“I’m fine. Jag took great care of me.” Really, I had taken care of myself, but that was for another time.
He blew out a deep breath like he had been holding it for a while. “I expect nothing less from him. Are you really okay? Jag said you took the guy out, yeah?”