“CALL OFF your dogs, Italy.”
Gianni froze, cold rage filling him with ice. “I beg your pardon?”
“Call off your dogs. All of them. Or I kill Mami and Papi and castrate your dago ass.”
The urge to tell the bastard to fuck off was strong. “Drop it, Bonner.”
“Fuck you.” Bonner stared the man down.
“Didn’t I shoot you already?”
“Possibly twice. I lost count.”
Gianni winced. Gesú. “Well, I’ll do it in the head this time.” The guy was just foaming.
“Can you do it faster than I can shoot you?”
“You motherfucker!” The guy’s jaw clenched hard, and he pressed the muzzle against Gianni’s temple. “I will smear his brains all over the wall, cowboy.”
“Make sure you get your shit down, because I’m fixin’ to make you hurt.” Bonner sounded cold as ice.
“You’re in a brace, vato.”
“Yessir.”
Gianni lunged, lashing out with the gun he still held. He didn’t dare take a wild shot and hit Bonner. The guy hit Gianni across his right temple, which sent him sprawling.
“It doesn’t work that way. I’m taking your old man and your pretty momma. Then you’re going to send me all the money you’ve cost us.”
A gunshot rang out, sharp and clear, and Gianni tensed, trying to feel where he’d been hit.
“I don’t think so, motherfucker. He’s mine.” Bonner stood there, pistol smoking in his hand.
Gianni looked at the guy, who wore a big exit hole, and at Bonner. Then he laughed, even though it hurt. Like, really.
“Cesare! I need an ambulance here for Harrison!” Mason’s voice was sharp, sure.
“There were two more outside!”
“Yeah, they fled.” Micah popped up like a bad penny.
“I’ll tell EMS they’re clear!” Gianni found his phone. Christ, another head blow. He wasn’t going to have any brains left that weren’t scrambled like eggs. Bonner looked at him, and then his legs folded, his lover collapsing.
The brace kept Bonner from landing on his back, but he face planted. Damn, this was going to delay that beach trip even longer.