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The last pistol was older and heavier, like ones from those old Clint Eastwood movies. I liked the weight of it in my palm. I shot four times, but only hit one of the remaining bottles. “Minchia!”
“You need to brace your legs.”
The deep voice startled me and I whirled to find Alessio leaning against the sheep pen, his gray eyes watching me. He wore a knit cap, jeans and a hoodie, with an apple in one hand and a knife in the other. It was no kitchen knife, though. It was more like a hunting knife, one used for skinning, not chopping.
Alessio cut off a chunk of apple without looking down, then popped the slice in his mouth. I brought the gun up and pointed it at him. “Ma che cazzo fai?”
“I’m out for a walk.”
“You’re stalking me.”
He lifted a shoulder. “If that’s what you prefer to call it.”
“You don’t seem worried that I will shoot you in a few seconds.”
“You couldn’t hit the bottles from ten feet away. Do you really plan to hit me from all the way over there?”
“Are you willing to take that chance?”
His gaze raked me from head to toe. Though I wore mounds of clothing, I felt exposed. Like he could see the bare skin underneath.
The lines bracketing his mouth deepened. “If you shoot, I will hurl this knife into your throat.” He flipped the large knife in his hand a few times without breaking our stare. “And I promise I won’t miss.”
I hated him so much. I lowered the gun slowly, but didn’t take my finger off the trigger. “Figlio di puttana.”
This only seemed to amuse him. “You know, for a mafia prince you’re not very smart.”
My fist tightened around the handle of the gun. Fuck, it would be so satisfying to shoot him. “What does that mean?”
“It means you haven’t thought this out. Let’s say that by some stroke of luck you are able to kill me and leave this island. What then?”
“You want to know where I’m going next? Is that it?”
“You have some bad men after you, Giulio. If I don’t kill you, they will.”
“They haven’t succeeded in four years.”
He threw his head back and laughed. “Cazzo, you are full of yourself.”
“Do you want to get shot again?” I snapped.
He sobered and a muscle jumped in his jaw. “Here is my advice: Stop being childish. You’re a grown man. So start dealing with your problems instead of running and hiding.”
Anger sparked in my veins, bright and hot. Judgmental prick. He had no fucking idea what I’d been doing the last four years. How hard I’d worked to find Paolo’s killers. “Is this where you tell the gay man he’s too effeminate? Too weak?”
He shook his head and heaved a sigh. “I am bisexual, Giulio. I like men and I like women. For the last time, this has nothing to do with your sexuality.”
My jaw fell open. Alessio was bi? Well, that explained the exemplary blow job in Málaga. “I didn’t ask for your advice. And I plan to find and kill them next.”
“After you kill me, you mean.” He gave me a half smile and I was shocked to see a dimple in his right cheek. Alessio did not seem the sort of man to have dimples.
Paolo had dimples.
“Yes,” I growled. “After I kill you.”
“Then you had better keep practicing.” He pointed at the two remaining bottles on the stump.
“It’s the guns. Not my aim.”
