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I grip the blade in my hand and release its gleaming metal tip. Ready to slice.
“Max!” A male voice whisper-shouts my name. “What the fuck?”
I furrow my brow. “Gabe?”
Gabe pulls off his hood. “Yeah, man. What the hell is wrong with you? I could have been a cop, for fuck’s sake!” He points at my blade. “You were just gonna fillet me without even finding out who it was?”
I retract the blade and stick it back into my pocket, letting out a deep sigh. “This is a shithole neighborhood, if you haven’t noticed. And if the cops came down here more often, it probably wouldn’t be as bad as it is. So, yeah, if someone is following me in this place, I’m slicing first, worrying about it never.” I lower my voice. “What the fuck are you doing here, anyway? Shouldn’t you be at your mother’s house right now, sleeping on the couch after stuffing your face with enough food to feed a third-world country?”
“Screw you.” Gabe grinned. “I already did all that. And now I’m all fueled up and ready to bust some fucking skulls. Where are they?”
I nod in the direction of the dilapidated building. Layla didn’t have an exact address, but she sent pictures. I did the rest with the help of one of my younger guys, Sammy, who also happens to be a tech genius. Fucking kid. He could do so much more with his life than be a hacker for the mafia, but then again, nobody ever asks if you’re gonna join the party.
It’s just expected that you show up.
And never leave.
“I’m gonna kill Sammy,” I grumble, adjusting the gun in the waistband of my pants.
“If he didn’t call me, it’d be your funeral. I don’t know why you needed to storm this shit show by yourself.”
Gabe doesn’t get it. But it’s not like I can make him understand. I know what people say about me. I know what they think.
This time, I wanted to tell a different story, one where I’m the one who takes care of things, not just the one who carries out a fucking order.
I’m nobody’s goddamned errand boy, but that’s what they all see.
Because that’s the picture Nico paints.
My best friend. And my boss.
He claims he wants to help me rise through the ranks, to get me involved in the business end so people don’t just see me as a thug and start taking me seriously. But being his fucking peon isn’t gonna erase that image.
I may not be Mr. CEO, but I do know how these jerkoffs operate. Nico can barely hold a fucking gun, much less fire one. If I told him about this, he’d have gathered all the guys together, had a fucking brutally long meeting about the pros and cons of how and when we should attack, blah, blah, fucking blah. This isn’t the time to play around with our dicks. And now is the time for me to make my move and prove myself to those assholes who talk shit behind my back, betting on how long it’ll take before one of our enemies finally pops me.
Sorry, to disappoint you, dickheads. It ain’t happening.
Not tonight, anyway.
But still, a nagging voice needles me.
Grandpa Vito wouldn’t be happy about this.
I grit my teeth as Gabe cocks his gun. Vito was the head of the Salesi family and Nico’s grandfather. The big guy. The one who oversaw everything. He’d always been my champion, even after the divorce. That’s what we call the falling out between my dad and Nico’s. A lot of shit went down back then, but Vito always supported me, even when nobody else did.
Now he’s gone. It’s been almost a year since he died of a heart attack, and sometimes I feel like nobody has my back anymore. I’m a liability. They don’t want to take the risk on me since I’m such a loose cannon.
At least, that’s what I hear.
The mental taunting continues.
Is that why Grandpa Vito got Nico to give you a job? Or was it because he didn’t trust you either and needed to get you a babysitter?
Shut the fuck up, voice!
I clench and unclench my fists, the memory of Layla’s whimpering making my chest tighten. “Are you ready yet, for Christ’s sake?”
Gabe tucks the gun back into his jeans and nods. “Yeah. Let’s do this.”
