AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“What good would it have done?” Joey said. “The name would have been a weight around your neck. And my deal with the Don was that you didn’t know. I kept my part and he kept his. He didn’t go after you, even though you being alive has always been a threat.”
“Why arc you telling me this now?” Shane asked as Carpenter pointed the boat toward another island.
“Because the Don’s coming here for the wedding. And he knows you’re here and who you are. And all this crap is coming up about Frankie and the robbery. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but it’s best you be prepared.”
The bow of the boat scraped onto a beach, and Carpenter grabbed the second receiver and jumped overboard. He slammed it into the beach above the high-tide mark.
“Tell me the truth, Joey,” Shane said. “Are you planning to whack the Don?”
“No.”
“Because he’s got a professional hitman in the area who is supposed to take out someone who is a threat to—” Shane froze. “He’s here to hit me.”
Carpenter was climbing back on board and caught the last part. “One theory. And all the more reason to take out Casey Dean first.” He came over and slapped Shane on the shoulder. “Let’s focus on the present. And get the son of a bitch.”
Carpenter revved the engine and they pulled off the sand, back into deeper water. He turned and steered the boat between two islands. Shane took a deep breath and tried to reorient on his environment and get his head back in the mission, because he knew Carpenter was right. Casey Dean was the priority—even more so now.
They were surrounded by low-lying barrier islands, some small, some stretching out for over a mile in length. Many had thick clumps of trees, others were just covered in water grass. Small inlets and openings cut off to either side, disappearing into the trees. It was beautiful, the perfect place to hide a boat.
“Here.” Carpenter turned the wheel and brought them to shore on the edge of one of the larger islands.
“I’ve got it.” Shane grabbed the third receiver, jumped into the warm knee-deep water, and waded ashore. He shoved the receiver into the sand and flipped the switch on top. He waded back out and climbed on board. He saw that Joey had his Colt Python in his hand, ready for action. Shane opened a case and pulled out another MP5 submachine gun. He held it out to his uncle. “Here. More firepower.”
“Thanks.” Joey tucked the Python back into his waistband and hefted the submachine gun.
“We’re on line,” Carpenter announced, looking down at the GPS unit
“Now we’ve got to get Casey Dean on the phone.” Shane pulled out his phone and dialed in Casey Dean’s number. It rang four times; then the answering service came on.
“Casey Dean, this is Shane Fortunato. Seems like we might have some things to talk about. I don’t think you’re going to be able to complete your contract.” Shane cut the connection. Shane Fortunato. Fuck.
“Now what?” Joey asked.
“We wait,” Shane said as Carpenter drove them over to a small inlet and brought the boat to a halt in the shade of overhanging trees. “What if the mutt don’t call?” Joey asked.
“You got something better to do?” Shane asked. “If I’d have known the truth?—”
Joey cut him off. “If you’d have known the truth, you’d have never achieved what you have. You’d have been looking over your shoulder all the time and asking too many damn questions.”
“So you know what’s best for me?”
“I believed I knew,” Joey said. “Now you got to make your own decisions.”
“Thanks for—” Shane began, but his cell phone buzzed. He checked the screen as words appeared. Carpenter was at work with his equipment near the GPS.
SHANE FORTUNATO.
PLEASURE TO HAVE MET YOU.
PERHAPS WE’LL MEET AGAIN SOON.
THE CONTRACT WILL BE FULFILLED. CASEY DEAN.
The letters stopped coming. Shane looked up at Carpenter in question. Carpenter smiled as he grabbed the controls and put the boat in reverse, pulling them out of the inlet and into the waterway. Shane moved past the center console and manned the M60 machine gun.
“About three miles from here,” Carpenter called to him, checking his small screen.
Shane looked back at his uncle Joey, who was hanging on to the boat with one hand, the other holding the submachine gun. “Let us deal with this,” Shane called to him.
