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Stopping in front of him, I lean down, waiting for his wide, tear-filled eyes to meet mine. “I’m going to give you a chance to end this quickly. When I take this rag from your mouth, you’re going to spit out all the blood and teeth you just lost, and then you’re going to tell me who hired you to kill me.”

Pain and fear swirl in his eyes.

“Are you going to be a good boy?” I ask. “Or are you going to drag this out longer than it needs to go? Because we both know where it ends, don’t we? Let’s get it over with.”

Clearly he doesn’t agree with me, since he immediately lets out a cry when I pull the rag from his mouth.

“Stupid asshole,” I grunt, backhanding him again, again, until his face looks like it’s been through a meat grinder and there are droplets of blood soaking into the front of my shirt.

While he breathes hard, fighting to maintain his composure, I head for the toolbox sitting on the other side of the garage, in plain view from where he’s seated. “You have some nice tools here,” I observe, finally landing on a pair of pliers and holding them up for him to see. “How long do you think it will take me to pull every single tooth from your mouth with these?”

“Fuck you.”

“That’s not an answer to my question. You’re not very good at this, are you?”

He stiffens when I approach, pliers in hand, breathing harder, faster, the closer I get. “You can end this whenever you want,” I remind him before taking his jaw in my hand. He twists his head back and forth, fighting uselessly against my grip. When he clamps his jaws tightly closed, I have no choice but to kick his knee again, forcing him to open his mouth so I can use the pliers on one of his molars.

It takes a surprising amount of force to pull out a tooth. By the time I’m finished, they litter the floor around my feet. “Don’t be such a baby,” I mutter. “I only pulled eight. There are plenty more.”

His mouth looks like an open wound, blood dripping from his chin to go with the blood already rolling down his cheeks, mixing with sweat. “Please, stop,” he pleads. It takes nothing to break down a man like him.

“I will. I’ll stop right now.” Waving the pliers suggestively in front of his face, I murmur, “Tell me what I want to know, Victor.”

At first, all I get in response is the slow plink . . . plink . . . plink of blood as it drips from his mouth onto his lap. “Terrentino.”

A shiver runs up my spine, my instincts screaming red alert. “Say that again. The full name.”

Sluggishly, he lifts his head, his eyes hardened, his expression stony. “Matteo Terrentino. He put out the hit.”

“You’re sure about that?”

Slowly, he nods before letting his head hang again. “Yes. It was him. I’m sure.”

The last name I expected to hear. The one name with the power to make my blood run cold. “Did he tell you why?”

Victor shakes his head. It would be unusual for him to know Matteo’s reasoning, which is why I believe him. I have to push all that aside for the moment, backing away from my victim. His blood has soaked into my shirt in a dozen places and has dried onto my leather gloves, almost coating them.

The man who wants me dead once considered my brother his most trusted, ruthless soldier.

He’s also the reason my brother left the life.

Before I pull the trigger, I ask him one final question. “Did you tell him about the woman who was with me?”

“Yes,” he confirms.

“Thank you for this information.” In return, I put an end to Victor’s life, firing into his skull. His head snaps back, brain and blood and bits of skull painting the wall behind him. I cut the music, plunging the garage into deafening silence broken only by the sound of my breathing.

Matteo Terrentino. Only the most powerful Mob boss in the country. The most heartless and the deadliest.

And he’s set his sights on me. Why? I’m not sure. I always avoided working for him. No matter the reason. This is not a quick-fix situation.

The knowledge makes me shudder as I turn out the lights, then ease my way out through the door, making sure there aren’t any nosy neighbors watching. That’s the thing about life in an area like this. People tend to mind their own business. Probably why Victor chose it.

I use that to my advantage now, sliding through the shadows on my way back to the car. Matteo. For some reason, he wants me dead. Did I do something to get on his bad side? I’ve gone out of my way to steer clear of him, but it’s possible I wound up on his radar without meaning to. In my line of work, there aren’t a lot of names used. I’ve made it a point not to ask too many questions, at least so long as I can help it.

For all I know, he could want me out of the way just in case I decide to rise up and strike him down. If I had a more vengeful streak and a death wish, I might have considered it. Taking out my brother’s former boss, the reason everything in his life went to shit. The reason we no longer speak, though Matteo wouldn’t know that. But there’s no way I can take down a man with Matteo’s resources, network, and firepower. Not on my own.

There’s a storm raging inside my skull by the time I pull away from the curb, making it a point to drive like a man without a care in the world. But as I drive, I consider my options. No matter how I look at it, there’s only one solution. Only one person capable of taking Matteo Terrentino down with me. It just so happens we haven’t spoken in years, but that’s about to change.