Page 310 of Don’t Say Mafia

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught movement, a shadow where there hadn’t been one a second ago. Maddox was crouched low behind a stack of shipping boxes near the back wall. He nodded at me.

Cruz must have texted him the second he’d realized who Claudia was.

Saoirse, Jagger. Get it together. You’re just being rude at this point.

Cruz shifted his weight subtly, a simple adjustment that masked his calculation of distance and angle. “Saoirse,” he said gently, “you’ve got one chance here. Put the gun down. We can help you.”

She threw her head back and laughed, and it was grating against my ears, if I was being honest.

“Help me?” she repeated. “I don’t need your help.”

The gun stayed steady, trained on Cruz’s chest.

“Cormac’s men are already here,” she continued. “We’re buying up properties on Fremont Street through shell companies. We’ve been moving shipments through your docks . . . stealing things from right under your noses.”

At that, Cruz and I exchanged a look. I was going to get that weapons shipment back from them really fucking soon.

“You think this is your city?” she went on. “It’s not. It’s changing. It’s already changed. And when I walk back to him with your head”—her eyes glittered—“I’ll be richly rewarded.”

Cruz smiled faintly. “That so?”

“Our men are everywhere. Cops. Council members. Judges. We’ve been laying the groundwork for years.”

Maddox shifted another inch behind the boxes.

Saoirse’s expression turned almost reverent. “The end of the Syndicate starts today.”

“Its technical name is the Vale Syndicate,” I offered.

“What?” she snapped as Maddox got closer.

“I just mean it’s really insulting if you don’t call us by the right name, ya know? Unless you actually do prefer to be called Claudia,” I said.

She screeched and pulled the trigger. The shot exploded through the room at the same time that Maddox lunged, one arm hooking around her throat and the other slamming into her wrist.

He was one second too late.

Cruz’s body jerked as the bullet hit him in the chest. He staggered back a step, then another, before dropping hard to one knee.

The gun clattered across the concrete as Maddox wrenched her arm behind her back. She fought like something feral, heels scraping, nails clawing, spitting curses in Irish as he forced her down.

Thank fuck Cruz always wore a vest.

He coughed once, looking mildly inconvenienced as he pressed a hand to his chest. “Fucking hell,” he muttered. “That one’s going to bruise.”

I exhaled slowly and stepped forward. Saoirse froze when she saw my expression. She should be scared. This was taking far too long. Eden was out there waiting for me in fucking lingerie . . . and what if she’d heard those shots?

Maddox had Saoirse pinned now, her cheek smashed to the floor and her arm twisted high enough to dislocate if he felt like it. She thrashed once more, then went still when he tightened his grip.

“You really should’ve listened,” Cruz said, pushing himself to his feet with a grimace. He rolled his shoulder like he’d just taken a hard tackle instead of a bullet.

I crouched down in front of her. “You know what O’Dalaigh’s biggest mistake is?” I asked conversationally.

She glared at me, breathing hard.

“Thinking we had no idea about any of that.”

Her eyes flickered as I tilted my head.