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“There’s no one who can protect him from me, Rigo. If you were a smart man, and I believe you are, you would walk away from his request.”
“I didn’t plan on helping him. Romano isn’t my concern.”
“Then why are you telling me this?” I ask him. He doesn’t owe me shit, and I don’t like owing favors unless they are absolutely necessary.
“I’ve been loyal to your father for many years, but I’ve also been loyal to you. You come to me when you need back up, which means something in my work. I have no loyalty to Romano.” What is he saying here? That he wouldn’t help Romano if he were in danger?
“Get to your point, Rigo. I have things to do,” I snap, impatient as always.
“My point is, if it came down to you or Romano, I would back you.” I reach out and slap my hand on his shoulder.
“Thank you for that. I don’t know what Romano has planned or is planning. I’m not sure why he’d be seeking more protection, but I need to know who will be loyal to him. Can you find that out for me?” I ask him. Now I need to know what I’m going to be up against. I need to know who I’m going to be up against.
“I can. I will find that out and report back to you,” he confirms. I nod my head and pull a wad of money from my pocket before peeling off a few hundreds and passing them to him.
“This isn’t why I told you,” he says.
“Doesn’t matter. I never ask for a free ride,” I tell him. He nods and stuffs it in his pocket before I turn and head out the door.
So Romano is seeking more protection. Is he afraid? Of what? Of who? Me? He should be afraid of me. He should be deathly afraid of me.
My plans don’t and won’t change. What I have in store for him stays in place.
I walk out to my car and climb in with a sick smile. I’ve never in my life cared about who I hurt. I don’t care this will hurt my father in more ways than one. I don’t care that it will pain Romano, and I sure as hell don’t care that it’s going to rip Delaney in half. What I’m plotting will bring this family to its knees. It will show who the rightful king is, and that isn’t my father or Romano.
Chapter 6
The kill.
I love the kill.
I love the hunt.
I love seeking the one who will die by my hand.
I crave it.
I need it.
I want it.
I crack my neck from side to side as I look through the scope of my rifle. Eventually, he will come out of that building and leave, and when he does, I’ll be here waiting for him. I’ve been perched up on this building for a few hours, just watching and waiting. Men have gone in and out over the hours but not him.
A snitch. A mole. A rat. You call him what you want, but I call him dead, either way. He’s an informant for the FBI. One of three we know of. He must have been stupid to think we wouldn’t find out along with the other two.
Today, he is my target. Today is the day of his death. You don’t get to narc on the mafia and not end up in the river. I’m tired, which means a quick kill will do for now. I can’t promise the others will be as quick as this one. I have dinner plans tonight and plans I need to make for the upcoming wedding, and this is just how this needs to go down. Any other time I would take my time and carve the man up, leaving pieces of him in boxes on his mother’s doorstep but not today.
Today I want this over quickly, and my father doesn’t necessarily care how I kill them as long as they end up dead.
“Come on, Ricci,” I murmur, tired of being on this grungy rooftop. A car pulls around, and I know that’s for him. I adjust myself and look through the crosshairs as I wait. The door opens, and then it’s showtime.
I see him. He walks out, and just as he’s about to climb in the car, I smile and pull the trigger. His head explodes, and the woman next to him screams as I pull back, pick up the hot shell casing and shove the rifle into my bag. I stand and toss the bag over my shoulder before heading for the stairs. They’ll be looking for me, but they’ll never find me.
I haul ass down the stairs and out to my waiting car, tossing the bag in the back before climbing in the front. I start it up and take off, taking less than two minutes. I pound my hands on the steering wheel in pride. I like to make a quick getaway, and I just did that.
I drive across the city to the north, where I’m meeting someone for dinner. Pulling into the parking lot of the local Italian restaurant, I kill the engine and climb out, adjusting my jacket as I go.
I stroll inside, and the hostess seats me in the back corner of the restaurant, already knowing who the hell I am. I nod my head at her as she walks away to grab me a drink, and I wait.
