Nanny for the Don: Chapter 35

“I want Willow out of here. Unharmed.”

My gaze is locked on Jack, every fiber of my body screaming to rip him apart, but I hold it in. I can’t let rage take over—not yet.

Jack throws his head back and laughs like I’ve just told the funniest joke he’s ever heard. “And give up my best bargaining chip? Not a chance, Conti.”

I grit my teeth, my fists clenching. “You’re screwed either way, Jack. Might as well make it less painful for yourself in the end.”

Jack leans back in his chair, smirking. “Is this your idea of negotiation, Conti? You threaten me, and I… what, hand her over? Beg for my life?” He scoffs, shaking his head. “You’ve lost your edge.”

The sight of Willow bound like that, gagged and terrified, makes the blood boil in my veins. Every second I stand here, looking at her like that, I want to put a bullet between Jack’s eyes.

But I can’t—not with his two goons lurking behind me, ready to pounce. Not to mention the little detail that I’m unarmed.

Jack knows it, too. He sees the rage in my eyes and takes his shot. “What’s the matter, Nico? Can’t protect your little toy? Should’ve stuck to being just her boss. You’re in over your head, and now look at her. You know, I’m thinking of taking her for a spin after you’re dead.” He grins, his eyes flashing with sick enjoyment. “Bet she’d be real fun.”

I swallow the fury rising in my throat. Jack’s trying to bait me, but I won’t let him win. I need to buy time. I clench my fists, trying to keep my voice steady. “What is it you want, Jack? What’s your endgame?”

Jack leans back in his chair, acting like he’s got all the time in the world. “What I want? I want this city back how it was before your old man fucked it up by playing Mr. Morality.” He waves his hand in the air, like the thought disgusts him. “Ten years ago, I was making money hand over fist. Then your dear old dad came in and cut half my business.”

I snort, shaking my head. “Maybe you shouldn’t have been running in the human trafficking business.”

Jack’s eyes flash, but he keeps his grin. “I went where the money was, Conti. Always have, always will.” He shrugs, brushing off the moral high ground like it’s nothing. “But that’s in the past. No matter. Things will go back to how they were.”

My jaw clenches, but I can’t let him see how close I am to breaking. I glance at Willow, hoping she’s holding up. That’s when I notice it—her mouth is moving under the gag. She’s chewing through it. Smart girl.

I keep my eyes from lingering on her too long, not wanting to tip Jack off. The longer I keep this going, the more time Willow has. We’re close. I just need to keep this bastard talking until the moment’s right.

I keep my tone steady, eyes locked on Jack. “I showed up in good faith, ready to talk.”

Jack throws his head back in laughter, the sound cold and sharp. “Good faith? Says the man who tried to torture me to death in his basement.”

My eyes narrow. “You killed my father. You earned every second of that.”

Jack’s grin falters, replaced by something darker. He leans forward, his voice dripping with venom. “Let’s cut the bullshit, Conti. I brought you here to suffer. This ends one way—with a bullet in your head.”

Before I can respond, the sound of gunshots echoes from downstairs. Jack’s head whips toward the door, eyes wide with panic.

I can’t stop the grin that spreads across my face. “I didn’t come here to negotiate either, Jack. I came here to get you talking long enough for my boys to move in.”

Realization dawns on Jack’s face, his fury bubbling over. He stands up, knocking over his chair, rage flashing in his eyes. But it’s too late. He knows exactly what’s happening now, and it’s out of his control.

The room erupts into chaos. Jack’s goons are panicking, looking to him for orders. “What do we do, boss?” one of them yells, but Jack just growls, eyes locked on me.

More gunshots ring out from downstairs, and I recognize the sound—my guys are packing serious heat, and from the sound of it, they’re winning.

Jack clenches his fists, rage rolling off him. “It ends now, Conti.”

Before he can move, Willow finally spits out her gag, screaming, “He has a gun!”

Jack moves fast, pulling a pistol from under his desk. He levels it at me, but I’m quicker. I grab the chair I’ve been sitting on and slam it into the goon behind me, knocking the wind out of him and sending his gun to the floor, where it lands with a clatter.

Jack fires, but his aim’s off—he hits the goon by mistake, the man crumpling to the floor. Then Jack’s gaze snaps to Willow, fury burning in his eyes. He turns the gun on her, finger on the trigger.

I slam my fist into the gut of the other goon, grabbing his gun before he can react. Just as I lift the weapon, I see Willow in the corner, frantically scooting her chair to the side. She topples over, her head slamming against the floor. My heart seizes as she goes limp, knocked unconscious.

Jack sees it too. He turns his gun on her, his finger tightening on the trigger. I don’t hesitate. I raise the gun and fire.

The bullet hits Jack square between the eyes. His body jerks once before crumpling to the floor, dead before he hits the ground. The room falls silent, save for the thud of his lifeless body.

The door bursts open, Sal and the boys storming in, guns raised, ready to finish the job. They take in the scene—Jack’s dead, and through the now-open door I can see his remaining men surrendering with their hands up, the fight completely drained out of them.

I rush over to Willow, my hands shaking as I undo her bindings. Her face is pale, her breathing shallow, and the sight of her like this makes me want to tear the whole world apart.

I gently cradle her in my arms, turning to my men.

“Hospital. Now.”