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“I’m not trying to, baby. But this is the world where I live; dangerous things can happen, including those that are completely unexpected. Often, we’re required to do things we aren’t proud of to keep our loved ones safe.”
She pulled the weapon from my hands, rising onto her tiptoes and kissing my lips softly. “I love you.”
The whispered words were ones that would haunt me for some time to come. When she backed away, sliding the weapon behind her back under her shirt as if trying to hide it, I pressed two fingers across my lips, waiting until she was out of sight.
When I turned toward my brother, he shook his head.
“You have it bad for her, bro.”
I headed toward the door, my muscles stiffening. “Yeah, I do.”
Bad enough that for one last time I would drive all sense of humanity out of my system.
CHAPTER 26
“Think of war as a game of Russian roulette. It is a game of chance with your life as the grand prize.”—Ramman Kenoun
Sabatino
The quote was something I’d learned in school while studying history of past conflicts and battles. It had stuck with me all these years. There was far too much truth behind the simplistic statement, yet the words held a profound meaning in my world where Russian roulette was second only to a game of chess. Or maybe the truth was they were one and the same.
However, in a world where violence, brutality, and testosterone were the main players, those who strategized the best were most often the winners of the bloody battle.
My father had insisted Miguel and I not only obtain a bachelor’s degree but a master’s as well. He’d never had the opportunity to get a college education, something he’d regretted most of his life. I’d simply wanted to follow in his footsteps at eighteen, thinking I was a man prepared to take on the world. Through his harsh methods of discipline, including refusing to allow me any possibility of touching my trust fund or becoming a foot soldier in his operation, I’d had no other choice.
Now I was thankful for the way everything had turned out.
Through the years, most of the enemies we’d faced had been less fortunate in receiving any education past high school, which had limited their abilities to climb out of the gutter. That had curtailed their methods of thinking, making it much easier to crush them along the way. Maybe my thinking was harsh, but my theory had proven itself time and time again.
Perhaps that’s why the men who were promoted and subsequently excelled in my operation were all college educated. Even Andres had taken classes through the years, obtaining a bachelor’s degree, which was something my father had paid for. Pops had used the phrase ‘paying it forward.’
It had worked, several of my men millionaires in their own right.
What I found fascinating was the while Rico had gone to Yale on a full scholarship, dropping out because of his father’s murder, I’d learned through various sources he’d continued to learn, his library full of books on various subjects. There was something to be said about a dangerous man who had knowledge of so many aspects of the world.
In my mind, Rico could be the greatest enemy we’d faced. However, he still had a weakness. There was no doubt he’d been made aware of Georgia’s existence. That was the game of Russian roulette I was currently playing.
And I didn’t like the odds.
At least at this time of night, Mercy Hospital was quiet, which allowed us to head to the floor where Chase was recovering without being hassled. Not that any hospital administrator would want to tangle with either my brother or myself. Not at this point.
The hospital was on the other end of the city, which meant we’d lost precious time, but I had no control over what facilities my employees used. Only the insurance company did. This was at least close to his residence, which made his stay easier on his wife. One person taking care of two kids had to be difficult.
My thoughts drifted briefly back to Georgia. She’d looked so forlorn when I’d left, the cuts and bruises she’d obtained when I’d knocked her to the ground impossible to put out of my mind.
All the what-ifs continued to plague me, including what would have happened if that single bullet would have been aimed less than fifteen degrees closer.
As we walked down the long corridor, my anger only continued to increase. While killing Chase inside the facility wasn’t the best idea, I would do so if necessary. It was all up to the man himself.
We approached the room and thankfully, there were no medical personnel anywhere close. I headed inside, my muscles stiffening from seeing what I’d done to him. While brutality was inescapable, that didn’t mean I didn’t experience a few seconds of sadness. In attempting to provide decent benefits and wages to every single employee, I only expected hard work, loyalty, and some level of respect in return. Hell, almost two years before I’d upped the percentage amounts contributed to every employee’s 401Ks, for God’s sake.
Chase had been on track for a promotion. Sometimes I just didn’t get the level of treachery or the reasons behind it. Then again, I also didn’t spend time getting to know every aspect of their personal lives. Chase had a single chance to convince me he should remain alive.
Miguel exhaled behind me. He didn’t like this aspect of our business operation any more than I did. The term necessary was getting old. My employee wasn’t hooked up to any machines. I hadn’t inflicted any internal injuries. But both legs were in traction, preventing him from escaping. I moved to the side of his bed while Miguel stood next to the wall.
Chase looked almost peaceful even though the bruises on his face were purple in color. At least the asshole had known better than to tell the police what had actually occurred. I knew that simply because neither I nor any other member of my family had received a call from the captain of the police headquarters. Fortunately, the man was a staunch if not required fan of our family and the various operations. Besides paying hefty taxes to the city, the DiMaggio family was completely responsible for funding the yearly Policeman’s Ball held in November.
I stood with my hands in my pockets, staring down at the traitor. While there were no playbooks for something of this nature, I followed a stringent operational methodology for handling situations like this.
