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“You ready, Boss?” Ermes asks.
“Yeah.”
Ermes walks back into the house to have my car prepared. I turn my face up and look at the clouds puffing overhead. There’s a slight chill in the air, but the day is warm at fifty-seven degrees despite the cloudy weather.
Even the weather agrees with my fucking mood today. It’s time for somebody to start dying. It’s taken three days to find these bastards, but I’ve finally found them. I’m going to take care of what my men failed to do.
“Questo è per te,” I whisper to Graziella’s memory and put my burning cigar in the ashtray.
Turning on my heels, I head back into the house.
***
MANFREDI ROSSI ANDGiorgio Esposito run a chop shop. They traffic guns and drugs out of here, and the chop shop is just a front to launder their money. Most people aren’t aware that the two business partners have offices in the back of the shop.
I climb out of the backseat of the car, and my driver and bodyguard, Gino Ferrari, falls into step with me and Ermes is on my right.
There’s a car behind the one that I rode in where the rest of my men sit waiting to get a signal if their help is needed. I don’t need any fucking help today, but Ermes and Gino insisted on going inside with me.
The odor of car fumes, oil, and other mechanical fluids fills the air. A couple of men talking to a woman look my way, and I see their eyes widen in fear along with the whispered, “Is that Marco-fucking-DeLuca?” “What the fuck is he doing here?”
A few mechanics look up and call out, “Aye! What’re you doing?”, “Hey! You can’t go back there,” or “Hey, can I help you with something?”
I keep walking right by them until someone else jumps out at me as I continue to walk by.
“Aye, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he asks.
When we push past him, he runs up to us and jumps in front of me. “Aye! You can’t fucking—”
A well-placed bullet right between his eyes silences him. I’m not in the mood for anyone’s bullshit today. The thud of his body falling to the ground registers in my mind as do the men scurrying behind us.
I don’t give a fuck. My men will take care of them if necessary. I only have two concerns on my mind, and that’s the men I’ll find right behind the door in front of me.
I kick the door in to find Manfredi and Giorgio sitting at desks across from each other.
“What the fuck?” Manfredi asks as Giorgio slowly stands and asks, “What’s going on?”
My men post up next to Giorgio as I snatch Manfredi to his feet by his collar.
“Who did it?”
“Who did what?” Manfredi asks, his ruddy face turning redder with anger.
I punch him in the side of the head and let him go long enough for him to stagger backward. When he stares at me, I hit him in the side of the head again long enough to daze him.
“Aye!” I hear Giorgio shout from behind me.
“Shut the fuck up if you don’t want the same,” Ermes warns.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Manfredi growls.
“This is your last fucking chance to answer me. I’m not fucking playing your games,” I warn in a cool tone.
“Okay, but please...tell me what you’re talking about,” he pleads.
I tell him what happened to my wife at our house and end with, “Your signature kill mark was found on my wife.”
His eyes widen in horror. “I...I didn’t do that,” he stammers as Giorgio whines behind me, “That wasn’t us, Marco. I swear to God it wasn’t us!”
