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“I am beginning to see the assassin’s tricks.” He closed the distance between us to press a kiss to my mouth. “I like them.”
I shook my head at his foolishness. “Andiamo, principe.”
Our steps were silent as we wound our way onto the mistress’s street. The villas here were small, but nice. Private. They weren’t piled on top of one another. Lights were on in most of them, but we finally came across a home that was completely dark. So we slipped around the side of it and crept through the gardens.
The mistress’s street was quiet. I put out my hand, telling Giulio to stop. Then I slipped on my mask and watched as he did the same. We pulled on latex gloves. Guns were checked and loaded. My heart rate was steady and slow, my breathing even. I was as calm as could be expected with Giulio by my side.
I touched the cornicello around my neck for luck, then started forward. As I suspected, Nino’s guards were waiting in his car with the engine on. A foolish mistake. But no doubt Nino didn’t want his men listening to him as he fucked his comare.
Like we’d been carrying out hits together our entire lives, Giulio and I were in perfect sync as we approached the car. We stayed low, kept out of sight of the mirrors. Giulio waited, hidden behind a parked car, as I moved toward the back of Nino’s sedan.
I slipped a lemon in the left exhaust pipe. It was a tight fit, but I got it in. Then I quickly moved to the right and shoved the other lemon in.
Then I just paused, listening.
The car engine sputtered and died.
Talking inside the car. Bodies shifting. They tried in vain to restart the car a couple of times, but the engine would die soon after coming to life. I gripped the pistol loosely, my breathing steady. I was cool and clear headed. I knew exactly how this would go down. I could see it in my head.
One car door opened. The driver’s side. A man got out. Before he could close the door, a puff of air went by and the man fell to the ground. The other guard in the car would now know something was wrong. He would be armed and expecting trouble.
The door opened. I looked under the car, waiting to see his feet. Instead, a pistol appeared. I rolled just as a pop sounded. The bullet missed me by centimeters. Gun braced in my palm, I surged to my feet and raced around the side of the car. Toward the open door.
The guard was just sitting up, trying to get around for a second shot. It was too late. I was there, right in position. I squeezed the trigger. The bullet entered his forehead square between the eyes. He fell back, dead.
Giulio was on the other side of the car. I couldn’t see anything but his eyes, which were glittering in delight. “Fuck yes, assassino.”
I shook my head. Only the son of il Diavolo would get excited at murder.
We met up in front of the car. “The front door. Me first. Let’s go.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Giulio
Alessio was fucking impressive. I’d seen it before with the Sicilians, but my man was cool and collected. Dangerous. Not to be fucked with. I couldn’t see his face, but I knew he was wearing that stern expression he got when he concentrated intently on something.
I was going to fuck him so hard as soon we finished with Nino.
First, we shoved the guards back in the car and closed the doors. There was blood on the street, but that couldn’t be helped. At least there weren’t dead bodies on the ground to draw attention while we were dealing with Nino.
The street was quiet as we crept toward the front of the mistress’s villa. There was a wall surrounding the front, which would provide cover for whatever happened inside.
Alessio didn’t know it, but I didn’t intend for this to be quick. No, I had a different plan in mind for Nino.
I followed Alessio up the walk. He moved carefully, silently. My heart was pounding, but I bet Alessio’s wasn’t even beating fast. Each step was smooth and precise, his body on alert.
He tried the knob. Unsurprisingly, it was locked. I was ready to kick the door in, but Alessio put up a hand. He removed a tension tool and pick from the pocket of his cargos and bent in front of the lock. Within thirty seconds, the deadbolt unlatched.
Madonna. He could pick locks, too?
Lifting his pistol, he very slowly turned the latch and opened the door. He angled to each side, left and right, to check that it was clear. Then he crept into the house.
I was right behind him.
Our shoes made no sound on the tile floor. We could easily hear the rhythmic pounding coming from upstairs.
Alessio motioned me left and then he went right. I checked each room, making sure Nino didn’t have anyone in the house. There could be kids or another relative. Who the fuck knew?
