They Auctioned Off My Housekeeping, Then the Mob Paid a Million for It novel · Chapter 21 of 24

Chapter 21: The Club

Rocco's POV

I had counted six, and the count was wrong by two.

Six men came through the kitchen door in black masks, and two more stood up from the guards along the wall, with their coats open.

I put my good arm around Livia's waist and took her down.

We hit the floor behind the long oak table as the first shot split the lamp over our heads.

Glass rained on the boards.

"Stay under it," I said into her hair.

"Rocco, your arm."

"Stay under it."

The table was a foot thick, and my father-in-law had bought it before either of us was born. It stopped the second shot and the third.

Chairs went over. A man at the far end screamed, and I heard the old capo with the cane roar something in dialect that had not been used in that room for forty years.

Then the room split.

Five of the eleven pulled their own guns and turned them on the masks.

Silvio had counted on the capos being afraid.

He had not counted on what Thurston had just said about the graveside.

I came up on one knee with my pistol in my right hand and fired twice at the nearest mask.

He folded against the doorframe.

"Zia," Livia said. "Where's Zia?"

She was still in her corner by the window, in the blanket, between two guards who were no longer paying attention to her.

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