Book 2: Race Against the Clock

Dante

The lanky Russian advances on me, and I raise Seb’s pistol because mine is pinned under his body. His fingers slip limply from the trigger, and I grimace as I land three shots in the Russian’s chest. He drops like a sack of rocks. Tony skids through the haze of gun smoke to my side.

“Seb,” he whispers urgently.

Seb’s eyes roll aimlessly in his head. My heart hammers. Tony has no idea where his fucking gun is. It’s my job, from underneath his bleeding brother, to keep all three of us alive. A much bigger Russian advances, wearing a set of brass knuckles, and I blow him away before his attention can lock on us.

“Sebastian Bellini.” Tony takes his younger brother’s head in his hands. “You have to fucking answer me, or I’m going to tell Nonna you’ve been missing her, and she should really call every day.”

Seb coughs. “Dick.”

Tony and I exhale matching gusts of relief. It’s not over yet. Tony wedges his arms under Seb, keeping hi