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A woman walking her rat-looking dog passes us. She takes one glance at us, hoists her dog into her arms, and hurries into her house.
This isn’t about revenge for Tommaso.
Fuck Tommaso.
It’s revenge for the person who hurt my wife.
I don’t cherish men’s lives.
But I cherish my wife’s heart.
And no motherfucker is allowed to harm it.
I pay attention to my surroundings as Luca and I walk toward the house. Parked in the driveway is a minivan and a rusted Chevy Caprice. The lights are off, and the inside is quiet. I peek into a window, seeing nothing but flower-patterned furniture and junk decor I could find at any garage sale.
“Pretty sure this is a grandma’s house,” Luca says. “If Sammie was fucking with us, I’m going to cut his hand off for wasting our time.”
Yelling from the unattached garage catches our attention. I grip my gun as I creep along the side of the garage, and through the window, I see two men on a ratty couch, playing video games.
I wiggle the door handle. It’s unlocked.
What a polite invitation for me.
I let Luca and myself in.
The men’s gaze darts to us.
One dives off the couch and straightens himself on the floor.
The other stares at us, as if he were frozen.
The TV makes an annoying sound and tells them they lost their round.
I shut the door behind me.
Luca points his gun toward the guy on the couch while I aim mine at the floor.
“You, moron on the floor,” I say. “Get your ass on the couch.”
I wait for his reaction.
There are many reasons he went to the ground.
To hide.
Or to grab a weapon.
His movements are slow and careful as he crawls back up to the couch and sits where he was before. His hands are empty. Turns out, he’s as big of an idiot as I guessed when I looked into the window and saw two grown-ass men playing a video game in their grandmother’s garage.
Luca stands behind the couch.
I stand in front of them and cross my arms.
They’re twin brothers.
My guess is, they’re around Tommaso’s age.
The one who stayed on the couch is biting his nails.
