Emmanuelle’s side and rushed to help him. They eased Giovanni to the floor. Angelina calmly applied pressure to the wound while Giovanni swore over and over. Another bullet tore into the shop and someone screamed for help. It sounded like Claretta, Berardo Giordano’s wife. She yelled for someone to help her get John into the back room, that he was bleeding profusely. “I’m getting that fucking bastard,” Taviano snarled. He didn’t care if the sniper was shooting into the shadows. “No. Don’t go,” Emmanuelle pleaded. “We can’t afford to lose anyone else.” He bent to brush a kiss on her forehead.
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