Jerked: A Stepbrother Mob Romance (City Series) by B. B. Hamel Page A

though I was pretty sure he wouldn’t hesitate to try and take me out if he could. That made things even more dangerous, but I really had to avoid killing him. Not only would the Italians be pissed, but I was pretty sure O’Brian would be unhappy that I'd started a war with his most powerful competitors. I was at a huge disadvantage, then. Hopefully, he wasn’t expecting me.
    I had the element of surprise on my side. Without thinking too much more, I braced myself and kicked the door just above the knob with all my strength. It buckled, but didn’t break. I reared back and kicked again and the door flew in, splinters scattering all over the place.
    I felt cool and calm and in control. Time seemed to slow down and I felt alive, more alive than usual. The kitchen was dark. I moved in and crouched down behind the table, silent and listening. There was only stillness. I moved fast, my gun drawn, and swept through the first floor. The kitchen was empty and so was the living room. Nothing looked like it had been used in a while, which could be a bad sign. The cabinets in the kitchen were all empty and so was the refrigerator. Either he wasn’t there and Jimmy’s information was bad, or Fabrizio hadn’t stuck around long enough to make himself cozy. Either way, there was no sign of him hanging around the main part of the house. Silently, I pulled open every door that I saw, but found only a bathroom, a closet, and the basement steps.
    I clenched my jaw. The basement was a deathtrap. I decided to check the upper floors first, and hoped that he would stay hidden if he were down there. It was a gamble, but I had no other choice. I had to play it safe or else risk getting killed.
    The whole place felt spooky, but most safe houses did. They were built purely for functionality, hidden out of the way and furnished with the bare minimum. There were no decorations on the walls and everything had a secondhand feel to it. Some people felt like they were haunted, but really it was just the echoes from how empty they were. When a family occupies a space, they really fill the house. But safe houses stayed empty the vast majority of the time. I couldn’t imagine staying in one for very long.
    I moved slowly up the stairs, gun at the ready. Sweat dripped down my back as a board creaked under my foot. If he didn’t know I was here, he does now, I thought. There was no other noise in the whole place as I strained to listen. I got to the top of the stairs and looked left, down a hallway. It was empty, and all of the doors stood open. There were no shadows or any other clues. To my right was a closed door that I guessed would lead to the main bedroom. I opted for that door, hoping he’d be in there. It was strange that it was the only closed door, and so I tensed for something to happen. I had a strange feeling in my gut.
    Once on the landing, I turned the knob and pushed into the room fast. Ahead was a single bed with the sheets messed up. He was here , I thought, but didn’t have much time for anything else as a hand appeared from the closet to my right.
    It grabbed my wrist and twisted, wrenching my grip away from the gun. I had a brief second to get a look at my opponent before he smashed his fist into my nose. He was young, with dark hair, but I had no clue if it was Fabrizio or not. My vision swam as I staggered back, the gun clattering to the ground, and I brought my fists up. If he was packing himself, I was done for.
    The guy came at me, feinting left, but rushing at my right. I caught him as he tried to tackle me and I bashed my elbows down into his back. I caught myself against the wall and steadied my body weight before trying again. He grunted, and I bashed him again, pushing back off the wall. He staggered back, his face a mask of rage, but came at me again, punching for my face. I ducked and dodged and swung back, jabbing twice at his face. The first missed, but the second landed square in his teeth. Pain lanced through my