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I click the gun’s safety and point it at him, not in the mood for games.
“Whoa.” Sammie holds up his hands, surrendering, and violently shakes his head. “Why would I throw away the opportunity to be paid back?But, from what I recall, Tommaso said you were paying a portion of his debt.”
“Calm your money-hungry dick down. You’re not getting a penny from me.” I shake my head. “As far as your interest in killing the men who took your opportunity of repayment, give me their names, and I’ll do it for you.”
He raises his brows and shows off a chipped-tooth smile. “As you are a man with a price for everything, so am I.”
“God, I don’t have time for this shit.” I circle the desk, jerk him out of the chair, and throw him on the floor where he pushed the stripper. Anger surges through me as I shove the heel of my Italian loafer into his neck. “The price is allowing you to still breathe.”
“A dead man can’t give you answers,” he gasps around my foot.
“Good point.” I dig my foot into his windpipe before bending to one knee and pointing the gun at his dick. “I’ll start this game by shooting random parts of your body until you sputter out names I want.”
“All right!” His chubby face is red as he pants for breaths.
I step back but keep my gun pointed at his waist.
He writhes on the cheap linoleum floor, like a turtle who turned on its shell and can’t roll over.
“Names, Sammie.” I snap my fingers and kick him in the face. “And I’d better get them quick.”
“Brian and Mikey Kaminski,” he grunts, drool running from his mouth. “They’re brothers. They live off Lyndhurst. The only yellow house on the street. Their men are also the ones who arrived, uninvited, to your wedding.”
I tap his head with the toe of my shoe as blood drips from his nose. “Thanks, Sammie. Always a pleasure.”
We leave without helping Sammie up.
Let him lie there for a while.
Think of his bad life decisions.
* * *
The car rideto Lyndhurst is only five minutes.
“You know, Severino wants to be the one to do this,” Luca tells me when I park down the road from the yellow house. “He’ll be pissed you took the power of killing his son’s murderer away from him.”
I work my jaw, studying the home. “Don’t care.”
Luca speaks the truth. Severino has expressed the same concerns. He asked me to bring him any information regarding Tommaso’s death. And since we’re allies and he’s my father-in-law, doing so sounds simple. It’d also save me the headache.
I told him I’d do that, but I never promised I wouldn’t do what I wanted first.
I promised my wife I’d kill her brother’s murderer, and I will make good on that. If another man was with the murderer—which Sammie made it seem like—then Severino can have him. But whoever put that life-ending bullet in Tommaso’s head will deal with me.
I don’t care if Severino believes he has more of a right to kill Tommaso’s killer. To which he does, honestly. But I’m not a righteous man. Nor do I regard if another man deserves something more than I do.
If I want it, I’ll take it.
And I want to keep my word to my wife.
The yellow home resembles a cottage with its white shutters and cozy landscaping. Either Sammie lied or the two idiots live with their grandmother. A duck statue on the front porch, dressed in a bright yellow raincoat and hat, holds a sign saying,It’s Fall, Y’all.
I duck my head to twist the silencer onto my gun and open the door.
Luca does the same beside me.
A rush of leaves spills over my windshield as I tuck my gun into my pants and step out of the sedan. It’s one of our random cars with fake plates and the VIN scratched off.
