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Vito nodded. “She’ll be safe on my watch, boss. And since you look like shit, I won’t even comment on how interesting it is that you seem so concerned for the girl.” He was actually grinning. What the hell?
“I appreciate that.”
Before Vito came up with anything else he wasn’t going to comment on, I got out of the car and headed for my own. I could practically hear my bed calling to me from miles away.
But I hadn’t made it three blocks toward home when my phone started to ring. It was Bruno; his number flashed across the Ferrari’s console, and I pressed the button to answer it, hoping like hell my night wasn’t about to get longer.
“Pronto,” I said.
“Buonasera, Signor. I just wanted to let you know that we’ve finished a cursory look into Antonio Verdi’s history. So far, his story seems to check out.”
“Bene. Grazie, Bruno.” Finally, something was going right. “I still want him and the kid, Brando, kept close. After seeing how easy it was to squeeze an adolescent for information tonight, I’d rather not have to worry about someone getting their hands on the kid.”
“Of course,Signor.”
As he spoke, I noticed the telltale glint of headlights approaching rapidly from behind. My muscles tensed as the car got close enough to get a good look. A sports car—a black BMW.
“Looks like I’ve got company,” I said as I gripped the steering wheel tighter.
“Can you handle it,Signor?” Bruno asked, though it didn’t sound much like a question. Of course, I could handle it. But Christ, I was too tired for this shit.
“Si, I’ve got it,” I said, then hung up.
The car drew closer, its engine roaring.
I rolled my eyes. If they thought they could intimidate me with loud noises, they hadn’t really done their research, now had they?
With a flick of my wrist, I sent my car swerving around a tight corner, tires screeching against the pavement. The BMW followed, taking the corner at a wider arc.
“Okay, let’s see what you’ve got,” I muttered under my breath, a smirk dancing across my lips.
Adrenaline pumped through my veins as I weaved through the labyrinth of dark streets. The BMW stayed close, but it couldn’t quite manage to close the distance.
There was a narrow alley up ahead, barely wide enough for my Ferrari.
“Shall we see what you think of tight spaces?” I asked, looking back at the BMW in the rearview mirror. I squinted, trying to get a better view of the driver, but he wasn’t much more than a dark blur.
As I reached the alley, I veered sharply into it, my car barely squeezing through the tight space. The BMW followed, but it was forced to slow down; the driver couldn’t navigate the narrow passage at full speed.
At the end of the alley, I swerved back onto the main road while the BMW scraped the shit out of its paint job.
“Asino,” I said, laughing.
But as much fun as this was, I was too tired to lead this dumbass on a wild goose chase around the city. I needed a destination.
Taking a look around at my surroundings, I took stock of what was nearby. And I knew just the place.
I veered toward the Old Dogs’ clubhouse. The sound of the BMW’s engine grew louder as I toyed with him, letting him close in on me. But just as he tapped into the back of my car, I hit the nitro button, sending the Ferrari surging forward like a lightning bolt. The sudden burst of speed left the BMW in the dust, his headlights growing faint in the distance. And the way the road flew by beneath me was fucking awesome.
It took several minutes before he managed to catch up, and when he did, the clubhouse was just up ahead, a mile on my right.
Half a mile.
A hundred yards.
The BMW turned left, shooting down the last side street before the clubhouse.
So, it seemed he’d done enough research to know about the Lucianos’ alliance with the Old Dogs.
