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I shook my head. “That’s crazy. There are other ways.”
“We’re going.” He looked at his watch. “Fuck it. We’re going right now.”
“It’s the middle of the day.”
“And he’s a fucking drunk, so I bet he’s hungover as hell right now.” He started toward the car.
I grabbed his arm and held it. He tried to pull away, put too much weight on his leg, and let out a frustrated growl.
“You can’t even fight me,” I said. “What makes you think you can take Enrico?”
“He’s hurt too. And like I said. I don’t need to walk to shoot a gun.” He looked at me and I could see the determination in his eyes. It was tinged with anger, and I knew this was about something more than getting at Maksim.
It was about loyalty. It was about revenge.
“Fine,” I said, voice gentle. “But I’m coming with you.”
He opened his mouth to argue then stopped himself and shook his head. “Whatever you want, little birdie.”
I took his arm and we walked out of the park together, taking it nice and slow.24LeonidRobin drove. I hated it, but it was for the best. My leg hurt too much to get behind the wheel.
I knew this was stupid. I knew I should walk away and count myself lucky. I survived a bad gunshot wound that would’ve crippled most men and I was already up on my feet. I’d probably heal and be okay in a few weeks.
But I didn’t have a few weeks. Enrico was healing too, and one day he’d be strong. I had to strike while he was still broken.
Maybe I could call Hedeon and request some backup. Maybe I could bring Reid and Oleg and anyone else along.
Fuck all that. Enrico’s mine, that bastard, he’s all mine. I don’t know why I took his betrayal so personally. Probably because he acted so much better than me, like he was some perfect solider and I was a piece-of-shit interloper. Turned out he was nothing more than a dog and a traitor though, and I was going to be the one to bring him down.
Enrico’s place was a little hovel in a West Philly neighborhood not far from Drexel. College kids rode bikes and wore backpacks. I counted ten guys on skateboards along one block alone. I had no clue what Enrico was doing in a college neighborhood, but it didn’t matter.
Robin found a spot and parked. She looked at me and I looked back.
“You can back down,” she said. “No shame in it, you know.”
I snorted. “No, thanks.” I opened the glove compartment, got my Glock, and made sure it was loaded. I slipped it into my waistband. “Let’s go do this.”
I didn’t wait for her to help me out this time. I managed it myself, with a minimum of pain, and leaned on the flame-covered cane. She came around the car and went to take my arm, but I shook my head.
I had to do this on my own.
I walked down the sidewalk toward a house with vinyl siding at the top and brick along the bottom. The front door was dark blue and the windows had bars on them. Two young girls sat on a stoop four houses away and shared a bottle of wine. I smelled weed in the air. Someone blasted reggae music from a nearby window.
“Nice place,” Robin said. “What’s the plan?”
I laughed and climbed up the steps. I took a breath as I stared at Enrico’s door.
“Plan is I knock, he answers, I shove a gun in his face.” I banged on the door.
Robin flinched. “Is that a good idea?”
“Let’s find out.”
I stood, waiting, and reached behind my back to grip my weapon. The house was quiet, and for a long string of seconds I thought the motherfucker wasn’t home or maybe Ursula was wrong or something had gotten messed up.
But then I heard thumping from inside. I covered the peephole with my finger.
“Who is it?”
“Pizza. You ordered a pizza.”
“Uh, I didn’t. Wrong fucking place.” It was definitely Enrico’s voice. Robin rolled her eyes at me.
“Look, buddy, if you don’t just—”
The door pulled open and I yanked my gun out from my waistband.
He couldn’t shut it fast enough. I shoved the gun out and held it aimed at his face. He pulled back, eyes wide with shock, but didn’t move.
“Hey, Enrico. Should’ve looked out the fucking peephole.”
He blinked rapidly, trying to think through his shock.
“Fuck, uh, fuck, uh, what are you doing here? How did you find me?”
I pressed the gun harder against his throat. “You have a penchant for whores that like to talk. We’d better go inside.”
His jaw worked. I pushed forward. The girls on the stoop nearby were watching but neither moved.
I figured I had ten minutes at most.
Enrico stumbled backwards. I limped after him. His house smelled like body odors and vomit. He looked pale, his skin clammy. He had on a black t-shirt and gray sweatpants. His feet were bare. Empty beer cans littered the coffee table, and a blanket and pillow were on his ratty couch. A baseball game was on TV.
