Chapter 11 - THE SIEGE OF BEACON HILL
Before Dante could open the box, the double oak doors burst open.
Enzo stood in the entrance, his face grim.
He had a tablet in his hand.
“Dante. We have a situation.”
Dante closed the velvet box with a quiet click, slipping it back into his pocket.
Gemma leaned forward, the blanket sliding from her knees.
“What happened, Enzo?”
“Victor Corvo,” Enzo said.
“The head of the Corvo syndicate in New York.”
“He just landed at Logan Airport on a private charter.”
Dante stood up slowly.
His demeanor shifted back to the lethal sovereign of the Lombardi empire in a heartbeat.
“Why is Victor here?” Dante asked.
“Salvatore Falcone died in federal prison an hour ago,” Enzo said.
“His heart gave out during surgery.”
“And Bianca?”
“Bianca cut a deal with federal prosecutors,” Enzo said, tapping the tablet screen.
“She gave up the Corvo syndicate’s money laundering pipelines in Manhattan in exchange for protective custody.”
“Victor Corvo thinks we coordinated with Bianca to bring down his family’s offshore accounts.”
“He blames us for the federal raid on his brothers in Queens.”
Dante walked to the floor-to-ceiling windows.
The Atlantic raged against the rocks below.
“Victor wants revenge,” Dante said.
“He brought forty men,” Enzo replied.
“They’re moving toward the Beacon Hill estate right now.”
“They think you’re in town for the charity foundation board meeting.”
Dante looked back at Gemma.
She was already on her feet, adjusting her sweater.
Her eyes were sharp, calculating, without a trace of fear.
“If they hit Beacon Hill and find it empty, they’ll come straight to Marblehead,” Gemma said.
“The coastal roads are narrow. They can trap us here.”
“She’s right,” Dante agreed.
“We don't wait for them to bring the war to our doorstep.”
“We meet them in Beacon Hill.”
“Dante, no,” Gemma said, stepping up to him.
Her hand caught his forearm.
“Victor Corvo is ruthless. He doesn't play by syndicate rules.”
“Neither do I,” Dante said softly.
He looked down at her.
“You stay here with twenty guards and Enzo.”
“No,” Enzo interrupted firmly.
“I’m going with you, boss.”
“If Enzo goes with you, who protects Gemma?” Dante challenged.
Gemma walked over to the antique desk.
She unlocked the center drawer with a small brass key.
She pulled out her Walther PPK.
She racked the slide with clean, mechanical confidence.
“I protect myself,” Gemma said.
Her chin was raised, her hazel eyes gleaming with steel.
“I spent five years running your operations, Dante.”
“I know every blind spot on this property.”
“Take Enzo.”
“End this.”
“And come back to me.”
Dante stared at her for three long seconds.
A slow, fierce admiration flooded his chest.
She wasn't a porcelain doll to be hidden in a glass case.
She was the queen of his empire.
Dante stepped forward and kissed her hard on the lips.
May you like
“Lock the gates,” he ordered.
“I will be back before midnight.”
