Page 13 of Jake

Five minutes was the time we had all agreed on to reach the compound fence. Once we did, Logan and Daly’s groups, on the outer perimeters, would lob grenades over to distract attention from the main gate. They would then send another lot over while Alex and I blew the gates a few seconds later. Quinn and Herias would have their men picking off those who came running towards my position or to where the first grenades had been thrown.

With the countdown on, we sprinted across the road. From the corner of my eyes, I noted everyone doing the same. When we reached the less dense bush on the other side of the road, we stayed low and weaved our way around larger trees as we approached our target.

The gates came into view and I glanced down at my watch—four minutes and twenty-nine seconds had passed. It was near enough.

“Go!” I whispered into the walkie-talkie. Moments later, the ground shook as the first grenades detonated.

Alex and I dashed a few metres towards the main gate, with the rest of the group giving us cover. Once we were close enough to blow the gates without killing ourselves, Alex and I threw two grenades and dropped to the ground to weather the impact.

The gates blew in spectacular style, exploding from their hinges and shooting high into the air. Bonello and I covered our heads as smaller debris from the explosions rained down. Seconds later, we were joined by the rest of the group.

A volley of rapid gunfire came from all directions, and when the frenzy slowed, the smoke began dissipating. I sighted numerous bodies dotted around the area to both sides of where we stood. My group picked off another half a dozen or so who were stupid enough to start in our direction.

When it quieted, everyone came together, staying on alert. The battle wasn’t over yet, of that I was sure.

I spoke into the air. “Logan, clear the buildings to your right; Daly, take the left. The rest of you, come with me.

We hurried towards a white two-story building that Herias said Russo rarely left, guns at the ready. It was eerily quiet. My foot had just landed on the bottom step of about five, I estimated, when the front doors burst open and a man in a white suit appeared with a gun at a young girl’s head.

Fuck! He looked like a cartoon character that had stepped off the pages of a comic, but the situation was much more serious than any comic book portrayed.

Father flanked me on the right, Alex beside him, while Quinn moved to my left. Our men closed in behind us, guns aimed.

I took my foot off the step before speaking. “Russo, I presume?”

“Don Romano Russo.”

I shook my head. “Nah. No don I know is coward enough to take a child and threaten their life with a gun.” I held out an arm towards the two older men. “Let me introduce Godfather Masterton, Don Bonello, and you probably know that I’m Don Masterton.”

The man’s eyes pinned on the senior men and I watched the hand holding his gun tremble slightly before he straightened his back.

“I don’t give a fuck who you are. Leave my compound now, or the girl dies.”

Quinn shook his head and tutted as he approached, his gun still aimed at the fucker’s head.

“Are you so stupid that you don’t realise you will be blown into a thousand pieces if she dies?”

Quinn stepped closer and what happened next seemed to take place in slow motion.

The other men must have finished their sweeps of the other buildings and were headed towards where we stood. Herias screamed when he saw his daughter with a gun to her head and started running in our direction.

Russo spun towards the screaming and, without thinking, took his gun from the girl’s head and pointed it at Herias—big mistake. The distraction was all Quinn needed. Using a well-practised move, my brother leapt into the air, and with a perfectly placed foot, he kicked the gun from Russo’s hand. Grabbing the girl by one arm, Quinn flung her out of the way before a kick to the back of Russo’s knees knocked both legs from beneath him.

Herias dashed to his daughter, who had stumbled to her knees, and pulled her into his arms. They clutched each other tightly as they cried.

Russo writhed on the ground, clutching one knee.

Care factor?

Zero.

Bonello stepped close and placed one of his size thirteen booted feet on Russo’s throat. The arsehole clutched at the boot, attempting to suck in much-needed air, but Alex didn’t move. Instead, he glared down at the man, contempt and disgust clear in his eyes.

“You get off on taking innocent little girls so their fathers will do your bidding?”

Russo shook his head, frantically clutching at the boot, his lips turning blue due to lack of oxygen.

Father stepped forward. The time had come for him to revenge his son. I would take a back seat to his authority in this matter.