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“Long enough.”
“And you couldn’t help me?” he spat, annoyed that Corrado had just watched.
“You seemed to have it handled,” he said. “Besides, it was quite entertaining.”
Carmine glared at him. “Entertaining? There’s nothing entertaining about this!”
“I disagree.”
“Well, you’re wrong,” Carmine said, reaching into his waistband for the guy’s gun. He cursed yet again when he came up empty-handed and glanced around, realizing it had fallen out during their scuffle. He found it a few feet away and picked it up, handing it to Corrado when he stepped outside. “He could’ve killed me.”
Corrado laughed dryly. “You’re exaggerating. You had him, no problem.”
“You couldn’t have fucking known that.”
“Yes, I could. He didn’t do his homework if he parked in front of your house.”
“How do you . . . ?” Carmine stopped, narrowing his eyes when it struck him. “Wait, you knew he was there?”
“Of course I did,” he replied. “He wasn’t sly, Carmine. Even you noticed him.”
“Son of a bitch,” he grumbled, aggravated. “I did all of that for nothing?”
“I wouldn’t say it was for nothing,” Corrado replied, smiling with amusement. “Like I said, it was entertaining.”
Carmine shook his head as the guy knelt there, crying with his head down. “Who is this Oisin Quinn asshole, anyway?”
“Is that his name?” Corrado asked as he took the guy’s driver’s license. “I’m assuming the Irish sent him. Is that right?”
The guy whimpered. “Please! I’m sorry, just . . . please!”
“Don’t beg,” Corrado said. “Tell me who sent you.”
“I don’t know,” he cried. “They paid me.”
“Who paid you?”
“A guy, he said it would be easy!”
Corrado squatted down beside the guy and grabbed him. Carmine could see signs of his anger boiling over and took a step back. One thing Corrado despised was being underestimated. “Do you know who I am?”
“Yes. Well, no. I mean, they gave me your address, told me where I could find you tonight. They said it would be in-and-out.”
Carmine shook his head, stunned by the idiocy, although a part of him was undoubtedly on edge.
“I hate to break it to you, but somebody wanted you dead,” Corrado told the guy. “They knew you wouldn’t walk away from this . . . from me. You don’t send a nobody after the head of La Cosa Nostra. I made you the moment you walked in the restaurant.”
Carmine’s brow furrowed as he tried to think back, looking for any sign that Corrado had been on edge. He ran through the night in his mind before their very last conversation struck Carmine. “Motherfucker, you knew this would happen!”
Corrado smiled slightly, almost like he was proud. Jackass. Instead of replying, he waved his hand dismissively. “Go home, Carmine. I’ll finish this.”
He grumbled to himself and walked away, hearing the guy yell as he made his way around the house. His cries were cut off damn near instantly by a small pop, almost like the sound of a little snapping firecracker. A single shot with a silencer, he guessed. He definitely wasn’t hanging around to find out for sure.
Jogging home, Carmine hoped like hell no one had seen him.
The house was quiet, everything still. Heading into the kitchen, he washed his hands before tucking his gun back away for safekeeping. The empty vodka bottle still sat on the counter beside the sink, taunting Carmine. After what he had just gone through, he could have used a drink.
You don’t need it, he told himself. You’re alive. You have your girl. There’s nothing more you need.
