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I raise the binoculars and note the familiar license plate and growl, “It’s him.”
Adonis squints into the sight and I watch the car getting bigger the nearer it gets and as soon as he has a clear shot, the bullets leave the gun, heading straight for their target.
As expected, he hits a bullseye, and the tires explode on the dusty asphalt, causing the car to spin out of control as it veers toward the rock face, and we waste no time in sprinting down the slope toward the wrecked car.
Adonis shoots the windows and I watch the door fly open and two men fall out. I empty my gun into the head of one and my brother takes care of the other one.
As we advance in a hail of bullets, we take one side of the car each and as I step over the body of the man I shot, I stare into the deranged eyes of the one I came for.
There’s a gash on his head where he hit the dash, and his eyes are glassy as he groans in pain. Reaching inside, I grab his arm and pull him from the wreck and land a swift blow to his groin, causing him to double over with a howl of rage.
I grab his jacket and slam him into the dust and sit astride him with my gun firmly pressed against his head.
Adonis keeps an eye on the road as I say roughly, “Tell me when the next shipment drops.”
He spits blood out of his mouth and groans in reply, so I slam my knee into his groin, causing a howl of pain to scare the vultures away.
“Please.” His eyes are wide as I press the gun further into his skull.
“I don’t know.”
I slam his head on the stony ground, and he coughs up more blood as I hiss, “I will ask you one more time. Tell me when the shipment drops, the location, date and time, and I spare your family.”
His eyes widen and I see real fear enter his eyes as he starts to shake.
“Please, not my folks.”
I sneer, “Your mom likes to play bridge on a Friday night at the Excelsior Club. Your father enjoys a game of pool at the gentleman’s club on East Avenue. Your sister loves drinking at the Marchant Club in town and your girlfriend plays tennis every Tuesday.”
I shake my head and laugh softly, “I wonder what they would think if they heard about your little side-line. The way you really earn your money while you slink in the shadows at night, pretending to be hard at work, making an honest living.”
“Please–” His eyes are bulging with panic, and I press the gun in further and growl, “Tell me and they live. Don’t tell me and you all die, and their endings won’t be quick, pretty or civilized.”
The light dulls in his eyes as he realizes he has no choice. Our reputations precede us, and we are men of our word. Executioners, assassins, enforcers, call us what you like. When family is involved, it’s personal and there is no compassion left in our souls.
“The dockyard, Tuesday, midnight. The boat will be moored at berth forty. It will be heavily guarded, and the shipment will arrive by transit on the eastern side. Three million dollars in cash will be exchanged for the contents of the transit.”
Adonis turns and nods and I grip Rico’s jacket and pull him to his feet.
His voice shakes as he pleads for his life.
“I’ll cut you in. I’ll do anything you like. Be your informant, anything, just spare my life.”
“Your life’s worth shit.” I hiss as I drag him to the edge of the cliff, and as if he weighs nothing at all, I hurl him over the edge with a disgusted snarl, loving the screams that echo back at me as he plunges to a bloody end.
There is no time to say a prayer for the devil to make his home an uncomfortable one as I join my brother and toss the two guards to join him.
Then we search the car, pulling out anything of interest, our gloves doing a good job of disguising we were here at all.
We stuff what we can into our pockets and then Adonis reaches inside and pushes as I push from behind and we send the car crashing down onto the unfortunate bodies below in the ravine. The explosion ensuring any evidence will be destroyed.
As we head toward our motorbikes, a shiver of revulsion passes through me. Scum like Rico are an easy kill. They play the big man but are most definitely the monkeys.
Taking out the organ grinder will be a different thing entirely, and as I picture Hosea Madeira’s smug bastard face, I make a vow to do it personally.
CHAPTER 10
MELISSA
