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I held up my fingers for a five count while Vito traded out the lock kit for his gun.
Then four fingers.
Three. Two. One.
Vito grabbed the door handle and yanked it open.
A rush of adrenaline coursed through my veins as we burst into the dimly lit bar, my heart pounding in my chest. I felt charged, lit up inside; I’d long ago accepted that I lived for this shit.
The smell of stale alcohol and cigarettes assaulted my senses as my eyes quickly adjusted, taking in the startled faces of the five men and one teenager who stood around the bar. Which one was the ringleader?
Thatone, I decided in the blink of an eye as I homed in on the one the others were looking to for direction. He wasn’t overly tall, but he was stocky, and he had his chin tipped up higher than the rest.
And now he was a dead man.
I aimed and fired, taking him down with a single gunshot to the head.
“What the hell?” a dark-haired scruffy looking man shouted as the remaining five scrambled for their weapons.
“I wouldn’t do that,amici,” I said, adjusting my aim on a new target as Vito followed suit.
They froze. We’d caught these dumb assholes completely unsuspecting.
“This bar’s closed,stronzo,”the scruffy man sneered.He hadn’t spared a glance at his fallen comrade.“Get the hell—”
“That’s not very polite,” I said, shaking my head disapprovingly. There might have been five of them and two of us here at the moment, but the odds were stacked against this disorganized cluster of thugs.
“You walk into our bar with a gun,” a gray-haired man with a pockmarked face said, puffing up his chest, “killing our fucking men, and you say we’re impolite?”
“I’d say stalking a woman was impolite. Shooting at my sister was… most definitely discourteous,” I said to the room in general, then turned my attention to the scruffy man. “I’d also say that if you move that hand one more inch, I’ll blow it right off.”
His fingers were creeping slowly into his worn and faded jacket, but they paused.
“Now, put your hands down,” I told him, keeping my gun aimed at him as Bruno and Carmine crept forward from the long hall that led to the office and storeroom behind them.
The asshole glared back as he obeyed while the men around him shifted nervously.
“Come here,” I said to Scruffy.
His gaze swiveled from me to his comrades, lingering on the tall, gangly teenager a heartbeat too long. Then he crossed the room toward me, slowly, his hands clenched into fists and his lips pressed together beneath his wiry beard. He stopped five feet from me.
“Who have you been working for?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
“Vaffanculo. We ain’t working for nobody. In case you haven’t heard, Belemonte’s dead.”
“I have heard that,si. But you’re lying to me, aren’t you?” I asked, adjusting my gun’s aim from his heart to his shoulder.
“No, I ain’t,” he spat.
I fired.
His body jerked back as he screamed and blood bloomed through his jacket.
“Papà!” the kid hollered as he took a step forward before the others grabbed him and pulled him back
“You asshole,” Scruffy seethed. “You goddamned son of a—”
“My mother was a lovely woman; do not insult her. Now, sit down,” I instructed him, pointing to the floor at his feet.
