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ANGELO
Driving while pissed off is dangerous. Riding a motorcycle in that state, even more so. But I know getting into an accident won’t help Lucia, so I force myself to maintain calm while I speed after Pavone’s car. It’s a simple white sedan, easily lost in traffic among all the other identical cars.
The one thing going for me is that I don’t have to try to remain undetected. It doesn’t matter if he sees me or not. He had to know I was coming for him one way or the other, and his only hope is to lose me en route. I don’t know exactly where he’s going, but Saint has an idea of where a few of his safe houses are.
If he’d chosen less crowded routes, if Lucia weren’t in the car with him, I might have tried to shoot the tires. But I can’t risk an accident that could kill Lucia and put me very visibly in the front and center.
I’d go to jail if it meant Lucia was safe, though.
Fuck. After all the shit she said, after every time she’s betrayed us, I should just let her go. Pavone and Bellini’s empire is finished, even if I don’t catch up to Pavone himself. Lucia let us know exactly how much she valued us the moment she left me and Saint sitting alone at that restaurant.
But I can’t get her out of my mind. When I saw her walking down the aisle in her wedding dress, I knew I’d do anything to save her. She belongs tous, not Pavone.
I almost think I’ve caught up to Pavone. The light ahead of us is red, and cross traffic is already moving.
But Pavone doesn’t slow down, doesn’t stop. The car turns to join the flowing traffic. Other cars slam on their brakes and honk, but he keeps going.
The stopped cars preventmefrom chasing after him though, and he turns another corner so I can no longer see where he’s going. Fuck.
“Lost him,” I reluctantly tell Saint. I don’t want to admit to the failure, but I need him to work his magic as soon as possible.
“On it,” he says.
I hear keys clicking in the background as he types, and I wait impatiently at the light. I don’t know which way I should go when it turns green.
“Okay, there are a few places he could be going,” Saint says. “But I think I know which one he’ll go to. It’s the one he got most recently. Keep going straight, but prepare to take the next exit.” It’s a little disconcerting to know he’s tracking the GPS on me, but it’s there for a reason.
“Angelo, Santino and I will join you there. Do what you want with Pavone before we arrive,” Victor adds. “But don’t have fun with Lucia without us.”
“I’m going to do whatever the fuck I want, Victor,” I answer. The light turns green, though, and the roar of the motor drowns out any response.
I follow the rest of Saint’s directions, which leads me on a twenty-minute drive to the other side of town, where the building density lets up and the apartments are replaced by small suburban houses. Not the kind of place I’d guess Pavone would pick, but safe houses are meant to look innocuous.
I scan the area for home security cameras and end up parking my motorcycle several blocks away. I hate that I can’t simply drive up to his house and shoot him, but this kind of place would notice an unfamiliar bike. The murder is going to be messy, and I don’t want anything that can tie back to me. As it is, I probably need to dump the bike at the next opportunity.
Pavone’s safe house has more security cameras than the neighbors’, which poses another problem. I can’t approach from the front or the back doors, and the first-floor windows are out too.
I’m not even a hundred percent sure he’s in there. There’s no car in the driveway, and there are no signs of life that I can see from within. Stealth is out, which means this can get even messier.
Damn it.
He never should’ve made it out of the church alive.
If I can’t use stealth, then force is the only way to go. I walk through the neighbor’s yard—the only neighbor without a camera—and hop the fence into Pavone’s property. The bushes here are less well-maintained, and the flowers are wilting. Fucking shame, too, but I don’t have time to worry about his ill-treated ornamentals.
I traipse through the grass, stopping to grab some dirt, and head up to the porch. The camera is rotating in a slow arc, and when it faces away from me, I climb over the porch railing and cover the lens with the mud. Saint will probably tell me that’s unsophisticated, but hey, whatever works.
I try the patio doors. Locked, of course, and I don’t have a lot of time before they notice the camera’s been obscured. I could spend a few long minutes attempting to pick the locks, but I have a much better idea.
I take off my jacket, wrap it around my fist, and punch through the glass next to the doorknob. Decorative glass doors really should be banned, just from a safety perspective.
After giving my jacket a quick shake and putting it back on, I unlock the door, draw my gun, and walk in.
One of Pavone’s goons tries to rush me, but I sidestep him. I can’t just shoot him, but I can pistol whip him. He goes down like a ton of bricks, and I use the opportunity to stab him in the chest. He’s definitely not getting up again, and I’m free to find Pavone and Lucia.
At least I know I’m in the right place.
I walk carefully down the hall, clearing each room until I get to the master bedroom. This has to be it, unless he left a man as bait here so he could go somewhere else. If I’ve really lost track of him, if he really managed to get away with Lucia…
