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“Then what is it you need?” Hawk asked.
He gave a one-sided shrug. “I’ll tell you when I think of something.” He turned to me. “Until then, you’ll owe me a marker.”
Laughter bubbled up within me with the pressure of a geyser. Did they even listen to themselves?
I was a fucking nobody—a sniper, a hunter. The one who did the kind of work you wouldn’t read about in the newspapers. Just moments ago, they’d betted on my staying alive—and their best bet was 24 hours. And now the boss of the Irish mob suggested I owed him a marker?
Hell, I was really not the one for the job. I was ruthless and morally compromised. But I was not a politician. I wasn’t diplomatic or willing to tread lightly.
All qualities I would need to take over.
I’d thought I was that guy once, had been groomed for the job until my first kill broke me—and ironically enough, I resurrected myself as a ruthless killer, unemotional, executing—never deciding on my own targets like I did that first time.
My eyes searched for and clashed with Hawk’s.
He was calm and in control, not even an ounce of stress visible in his face, and he calmed me down immediately.
It will be okay. Was that what he was saying?
But how could becoming a Mafia don ever be okay? I would need to prove myself over and over again. I would need to decide who to kill, maim, and slaughter.
I had the choice between losing the calm trust in my work or losing my family.
Become the monster I was born to be.
“Then it’s decided,” Vincenzo said. “Get the word out, put the plan in motion, and fucking make sure everyone knows to keep him alive and to support him.”
The rest of the guys nodded and dispersed to their planes.
The four of us watched them leave. Each and every one of them came with their own small plane.
They all came alone.
This was the elite of organized crime.
The top of the top.
These were the most dangerous and influential men in the world.
And they’d just decided I would be what? One of them?
“You’re ready,” Hawk said.
I grimaced. “Not sure about the whole politics part, though.” Or the part where I made the decision instead of just pulling the trigger.
“Do we have proof Fausto did it?” I asked Cristo.
“No, but there are rumors.”
I glanced at him sideways, then saw Vincenzo was motioning to me with his head.
“Give me a minute.”
Hawk nodded.
We left Hawk and Cristo behind and stepped outside.
“What are you thinking?” Vincenzo said.
