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“We seem to have a common pest that needs to be disposed of.” An Irish accent annoys me through my earpiece.
I scoff. My enemies are everywhere. “My list of people who annoy me is a mile long. You need to be more specific.” I should be planning tactics to get my sister back, not taking cryptic phone calls.
“You want the Mancini bloodline to be gone, and so do I. It’s good business for everyone.” The voice pauses, and I check the scope on my gun. “Your war with the other Italians is killing more and more people.”
I hate when people point out the obvious. I don’t need the Irish telling me about it. Get on with it. I aim my gun at my target and pull the trigger. They wait until the blast of the shot has cleared before continuing.
“This would end the war—for good. Coy has a countdown for a bounty to be placed on Romeo’s head for defying him and not returning the girl.”
The mention of Coy’s name has me firing off three more shots in quick succession. But this pleases me. Coy should be scared what we’ll do in retaliation for my sister being kidnapped. I don’t care if it wasn’t him. It was still under his watch.
“You want me to kill Romeo and do your dirty work?” This has to be about something more than the bounty he’d receive. These Irish will keep on talking the less you do, and eventually what he really wants will pour out of his mouth.
“I’m suggesting helping me out by letting the boy think he has the girl. Then I’ll take him out.” He chuckles. “I don’t need you to do any of my dirty work.”
“Set him up?” The idea is appealing. But I like to look into the face of my enemies, not shoot them from behind. Figuratively speaking.
“We’ll take him out in his territory. But we want safe passage.” Now the real reasons are starting to come out. Fin O’Conner is a slippery bastard. One has to be careful agreeing to anything with him.
“What about his brother?” I ask, placing my gun down.
“They both will die protecting each other. Let them both die.”
“That’s all you want?” I walk toward my target. I’m using new ammunition I’m learning the feel of.
“No. I want your sister, Luna.” He sounds confident in his demand.
Other mafia families may work under the “what do I gain” when negotiating marriage, but we don’t. My sisters are not for sale. Aria marrying a cop is a prime example of this. She may have gone through her whole “sinful daughter” phase to fight for their love, but somehow my father was convinced they’d be right for each other.
The Irish accent is still chattering in my ear. “It’s good business. I’m not a Mancini. You already have your alliance with Coy. It will ensure we all keep our word and have peace.”
“I’m not sure Luna is the marrying type.” My sister loves guns and killing as much as I do.
“Sounds like that will be a me-problem once we’re married.”
I consider it. It would be an easy way to ensure peace. Logistically, it’s too risky. I can’t risk Gia’s life. And Luna might kill me.
“No deal. I can’t risk my sister’s safety.”
