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“I’ve marked a bullet. This bastard dies tonight,” I say.
We spend hours watching our mark. Cigarettes are smoked and a menial conversation is had between Emilio and Joe. I don’t care about them. Any second we’re not discussing work, my mind is on Alyssa.
It’s been hours since she ran away since I sent my men looking for her. Hours misspent when she should be in my bed, getting ready for all the filthy things we spoke about this morning.
Fuck. At least she’s safe.
“There they are,” Joe says. My attention snaps to the doorway where Donny and his three dogs are let into the Nightwing.
“Radio’s on,” I say.
I shove a small earpiece into my ear and I’m immediately met by Donny’s voice “This place is rad.”
“Sure is,” an unknown voice responds. Probably Rocco’s chaperone leading my crew upstairs.
“Are our men in position?” I ask bitterly.
“They are. Anyone who isn’t will be dealt with swiftly,” Emilio responds. It’s a one-way radio. Everyone is listening to the same feed. Donny and his three have the mic and we wait on bated breath for our signal.
I press my finger to the earbud as if it will give me better clarity of what I’m hearing. But for the most part, it’s Donny walking, grunting and breathing while he makes his way to meet Rocco Barberetti.
“Wait here,” the unfamiliar voice says.
“Sure thing,” Donny replies.
A long pause follows.
“Have they been made?” Joe asks when the waiting becomes unbearable.
“Doubtful. We’d have heard some sort of scuffling,” Emilio says fatherly.
“Something don’t feel right.” Joe’s head snaps back and forth violently.
“Your nerves are getting the better of you,” I say.
“Maybe, but that don’t make it any less true.” Joe wants to keep speaking but falls silent as a voice returns to the earpiece.
“He’ll see you now. This way,” the chaperone says.
Shuffling follows, a door slams shut and Donny speaks. “Mr. Barberetti, thank you for meeting with us.”
“Save the pleasantries for your momma,” Rocco’s voice is gravelly and rough, “you said you got news for me on Cain Hawthorne. Let’s hear it.”
“Let’s get ready to rumble,” I say.
“Hawthorne’s mounting an attack,” Donny says. There it is, our opening to storm this place.
I twirl the hammer in my hand, unlocking the backseat. Emilio and Joe do the same. My men start shuffling from the parking lot and alleyways nearby, rushing through the street towards the Nightwing. One of them holds a gun to the bouncer at the doors head while a few more slide in front of him.
A sudden panic erupts through the busy street.
“Mounting an attack?”
The familiar bang of gunshots from inside hits my ear as we cross the street. A group of my men watches the front door, patrolling the civilians and ensuring they don’t do anything stupid.
“What the hell is that?” Rocco says into the earpiece.
Donny doesn’t respond.
