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He’s really here… After all these years, the bastard finally showed his face.
I never knew his name, but I’ll never forget that smirk. The way he stinks like cigars and then when he finally speaks, his voice makes me want to vomit.
I feel Jett’s eyes on me, and I nod once without looking at him.
The men begin looking at the product while Big Papa talks, all the while I’m sizing up the men around, trying to gauge how many there are and how we can kill this motherfucker without all dying tonight.
So many nights I’ve dreamed of ending his life, and what it would feel like to have his blood on my hands. To feel his heartbeat slowing as he took his last breath. To remind him of all he took while he died an insufferably slow and painful death.
Sometimes it’s all that’s kept me going. Even though I never had a clue how to find him or who he even was. And now he’s here.
My throat feels like sandpaper. I’m trying to think before my brother reacts… Then again, he’s probably thinking the same thing about me because I’m the wild card out of the two of us. Seeing him rigid like this, his eyes saying a thousand words, makes me want to put a bullet between this man’s eyes and not even care about the consequences.
The worst part: I can’t even tell Cash. I can hear him, and he can hear around us, but I can’t risk getting caught talking, or else they’ll know something’s up. I don’t wanna be the one to blow this, not with so much at stake.
Do we do it now? Or do we wait until Salerno is least suspecting. I don’t want him to live another day. I don’t want that. I want him to die tonight. There is no other way.
The main problem is that Big Papa talks a lot and Forger acts if they’re best friends.
I can’t believe the nerve of this man. It’s like he revels in the idea of everybody at war.
He gets off on it.
He gets off on trying to kill his own kid.
I zone out for most of the conversation. I’m still trying to will myself not to go into panic mode. If I do, that could blow everything.
Of course, he wouldn’t recognize us now. We’re grown men.
Would he even remember?
Big Papa gives me a look, noticing a change in me, but the others are too engrossed in conversation.
Cash is in my ear.
“We’re gonna move in. Whatever the fuck you do, don’t get shot again.”
I close my eyes briefly. Priest behind, my brother in front, as I touch Big Papa on the shoulder, my signal to the others.
“Ready,” I mutter.
All of a sudden when Salerno begins to speak, bullets fly out of nowhere and everyone ducks as mayhem erupts.
I knock my brother sideways, just like I’ve done in the past, at the same time a bullet hits Forger between the eyes. I don’t know if Tag or Harlem perfected their shot lately, but he’s dead. Finally, one asshole is gone forever.
I’d take a bet that was Harlem. If not, he’ll be pissed someone got to Forger first.
I fire, aiming at one of the guards shielding Salerno. Este ducks for cover like a goddamn pussy. The guard goes down, and I feel Jett behind me.
“You hit?”
“Nah, I’m good.”
“Priest?”
“Copped a scratch, I’m good.” He pushes to his feet as we stay low. I see blood pooling through Priest’s shirt at his shoulder.
“Fuckin’ piece of shit,” I growl. “Fuck, Jett.”
