Page 86 of My Fixation

My gaze lands on Manny. The change is immediate. Subtle, but immediate. The fake smile is gone. The easy confidence is gone with it. His jaw tightens. His nostrils flare. For the first time tonight, he looks angry. Real anger. Not the manufactured kind meant to intimidate. Until now, Manny believed he was negotiating from a position of strength. Now he’s realizing Duncan was never considering the offer in the first place.

“That is a mistake.” His voice comes out sharper. “You may think just because you’re so fucking rich that you don’t have to play by my rules.”

The words bounce off the metal walls. Manny takes a step forward. A small one, but a step nonetheless.

“That’s where you’re wrong.”

The warehouse falls silent again. I can practically feel the shift. Like a storm front rolling in. Something has changed. The negotiation is over.

Manny gestures with his hand, and the two men behind him both reach for their guns at the same time. I yell.

“Get down!” I don’t have time to process the words. Don’t have time to think. Training takes over. I react.

My hand closes around Conor’s shoulder. I yank him backward as I throw my weight into him. The world tilts. Then the concrete slams into me. Pain explodes across my back and shoulder. I barely register it. Conor curses beneath me as momentum carries us across the floor.

Move.

Protect.

Survive.

The commands fire through my head with the same ruthless efficiency they always have. I roll. Twisting my body over his. Making myself the shield.

The crack of gunfire tears through the warehouse. It’s deafening. The smell of burned powder immediately fills the air. Someone shouts. Glass shatters. Another burst of gunfire erupts somewhere to my left. My pulse slows. My vision narrows. The chaos around me is sharpening into pieces of information.

Threat.

Cover.

Distance.

Movement.

I press Conor tighter against the concrete. Every instinct I possess focuses on a single objective. Keep him alive. Everything else can wait.

The outline of Conor’s pistol presses against my side. Without thinking, I grab it and roll, bringing the weapon up as I search for targets. My finger settles against the trigger. Then stops. The warehouse is suddenly quiet.

The two bodyguards lie motionless on the floor. Neither is getting back up. Gabriel is on his back a few feet away, clutching his arm and cursing through gritted teeth. I sweep the room again. Looking for threats. Looking for movement. There isn’t any.

Only two men remain standing. Duncan and Manny. The contrast between them is striking. Manny’s face is pale. His eyes dart around the warehouse, realizing things did not go according to plan. Duncan doesn’t move. He stands there with his hands at his sides. Like a man reviewing quarterly reports instead of standing in the aftermath of a gunfight.

Then I hear it. The metallic squeal of hinges. The door we entered through swings open. Every muscle in my body tightens. The pistol comes up. And every eye in the warehouse turns toward the sound.

I have never met the man walking through the door. I don’t need to. Everyone within a thousand miles knows who he is.

Vincenzo Moretti. Don of the Moretti crime family.

The man doesn’t need an introduction. His reputation entered the warehouse long before he did. He walks inside at an unhurried pace. As if the bodies on the floor and the lingering scent of gunpowder are nothing more than a minor inconvenience. Power radiates from him. Not the loud kind, but the quiet kind. The kind possessed by men who never have to raise their voices because everyone else does it for them.

I glance toward Manny. The difference is immediate. A few minutes ago, he was issuing demands, making threats. Trying to dictate terms. Now he looks like a man who has suddenly realized he is no longer the most important person in the room. Because if Vincenzo Moretti is here, then this meeting was never as simple as collecting a debt. And judging by the look on Manny’s face, he’s just figured that out, too.

“Duncan, thank you for the invite to this meeting. Sorry, I’m late.” Vincenzo says to Duncan, extending his hand to shake. This time, Duncan takes it without hesitation.

Chapter 42

Conor

What the ever-loving fuck just happened? One second, I’m standing in front of Jaxon, protecting him. Exactly where I’m supposed to be. Next, I’m flat on my back staring at the warehouse ceiling. Jaxon on top of me. My gun in his hand. For a moment, I genuinely have no idea how I got here.