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There are people inside, some drinking cheap stout while others watch as if this were one of the soaps my aunt loved to watch when we were lads.
A woman begins to walk down the aisle, all but dragging Aurora behind her, and I want to shoot the cunt. This is her stepmother; a cow of a woman with no heart or conscience.
“Don’t do this, Samantha. Let me go!”
“Shut the fuck up, brat. I should’ve had you disposed of years ago.”
None of the people watching do a thing.
They will now.
Casper raises his gun and shoots the man pretending to be a preacher. He falls to the ground, a puddle of blood around him, and they all scatter like insects. They don’t get far, and I take great pleasure in watching bullets descend on the crowd of nobodies as we pick them off one by one.
It almost reminds me of a video game I used to play in my teenage years.
To my right, the De Leon brothers take care of the organ player and the lady with fake flowers, while I shoot a tweaker in the neck. They came with us from Miami no questions asked, and I trust both with my life. Bodies fall all around me, blood staining my clothes, but it’s one particular son of a bitch that catches my attention.
Amid chaos, Santis Gaspar tries to sneak out of the room. Fucking twat. This is where he’s been hiding.
I don’t aim to kill. Not this time.
Instead, I fire low, shattering both kneecaps and causing the arse to tumble. His head smashes into a tall mirror, and his body sags. He’s knocked out cold, unmoving, and when Thiago raises his gun beside me to finish the job, I shake my head.
“He’s mine.” Yet I don’t fire again. Instead, I plan. My mind goes through ways to get him back to Chicago for the time being, until I’m ready to deal with him.
“Did you forget how to shoot?”
“Oi, that’s insulting.” I chuckle, killing a man just to the left of Aurora’s stepmum. “His is a long-term care treatment, and I need to fly his live body out of Vegas.”
The man scratches his jaw, pursing his lips. “If you pick him up in Miami, I’ll take him outside now and dump him in a trunk?”
“I owe you.”
“Family never owes.” He walks away then, and I turn my attention back to the old cunt now screaming, crying over someone who’s dead on the floor while the idiot holding Aurora backs himself into a corner. They know they’re fucked, and I watch, amused, when that moment of clarity hits.
Aurora’s mother takes off running in a ridiculous pair of high heels, and the act alone is almost insulting. Almost, because the moment Ivan De Leon goes after her, she teeters.
A few stragglers attempt to crawl away, and while the others are occupied, I make quick work of those groaning while covering Thiago, who drags an unconscious Santis out the door. If Casper saw him, I’ll explain later, but right now the son of a bitch is too valuable to kill.
The last body still twitching is that of a heavier set man who’d been drinking from a paper bag. Three bullets to the chest, and he’s still complaining; one bullet to the head ends that. Then, those inside turn to watch my cousin as he walks toward his Gem and a shitting himself Dominic.
“Let her go.”
“I’ll kill her.”
“No, you won’t.” His eyes meet Aurora’s, and the bloody tosser smiles at his woman. “Close your eyes and walk toward the sound of my voice, sweetheart. Trust me, baby. Nothing will happen to you.”
“He’s got a gun to my back,” she says lowly. A tremble to her voice.
“He’ll die before a single bullet dislodges from his gun. They will all make sure of that.”
“I’m right here, you piece of shit.”
“Nico!” Samantha’s screech fills the room; she’s fighting Ivan’s tight grip. He all but drags her back, clothes ripped and one shoe missing. “Baby, help!”
“Mom!” Dominic yells out, pulling the gun away from Aurora. Big mistake, because a second later, Aurora ducks just as we raise our guns and empty what’s left bullet wise in his torso.
His body jolts with the onslaught, blood splattering across the room. He’s lifeless when he hits the ground, disfigured and with a wailing mum as the only being to mourn him.
