AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“If you don’t want a bullet in your other leg, I suggest you tell us what you know,” I say over his wails.
“Fuck. Fine. I’ll talk.” Luca pants, fighting through his pain. “When Lorenzo learned Esteban was a threat to that little cunt, he dug deep into his connection to find the bastard.”
Butch steps hard on Luca’s other shin, making him buck and shriek in agony.
“What the fuck, man?! I’m answering your questions!”
“Watch your mouth when you speak of her,” he warns.
“Okay. I’m sorry,” he grunts. “Boss made some deals and pinned down a safe house Esteban uses in the States. He saved that tidbit for himself, to play hero to that little, I mean, to Jo if ever the need arose.”
I tower over him. “Where?”
Luca licks his lips nervously, sweat building across his forehead. “I want your word that you won’t kill me.”
Fuck this noise.“Wrong answer.” I jam my finger into the bullet hole in his leg.
Luca howls with pain. I grab him by the scruff of his hair. “Where’s the goddamn safe house?”
“He never told me,” he screeches. “Lorenzo kept that shit locked up in his head. I only know it’s in Colorado, less than three hours from Fort Collins.”
“Where?” I thunder. “Where the fuck is it?”
“I swear to God, I don’t know!” Luca’s wails break off into wet sobs. “Please, don’t kill me.”
Unfortunately, I believe him. Bianchi trusted no one, not even his inner circle. He didn’t make it as far as he did as a mafioso Don by being open with his knowledge. Keeping things to himself ‘till the need arose was how he played the survival game.
I sneer as I examine Luca’s pathetic face. “Fine,” I reply. “I won’t kill you.”
Butch’s head whips to me, his eyes screaming,what the fuck?
Easy, brother.
Luca lets out a long sigh of relief. “Thank you.”
Smirking, I hand my gun to Butch. No sense in having to toss his pistol when we can keep the evidence down to one weapon. The honor should go to him anyway—his woman was victimized the most by this prick.
Butch’s nostrils flare, grabbing the gun from my hand. He raises the gun, and we both stare at Luca as he registers what’s happening.
“But…”
“I’m not killing you.” I tilt my head at my brother. “He is.”
Butch shoots off a single round dead center of Luca’s forehead. Luca’s eyes roll back and he falls back against the ground.
“Rest in hell, motherfucker,” Butch mutters.
I slap my hand on his shoulder. “Clock’s ticking.”
We work in silence. Butch dismantles the gun, chucking pieces into the quarry where they disappear into the inky blackness of the manmade lake. I set Luca’s feet in five-gallon buckets of wet cement.
Butch chuckles.
“What’s so funny?”
He juts his chin at my handy work. “Cement shoes? Seriously? How mobster is that?”
I’m sure Luca cast a few of these in his day. Seems fitting he’s being disposed of as many of his victims. “One size fits all,” I joke.
