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25
Avraam
Ten o’clock, Salt Lake City, semi-automatic pistol with a red laser sight. Damien and I have solved the puzzle, and we’re about to flood the streets with brass bullet casings once the sun goes down.
Leo will be there. He always is.
Predictable.
Vulnerable.
Foolish.
And we’re going to put so many bullets in that bastard that he’ll have a closed casket funeral.
If anyone even bothers to give him a funeral at all. Once he’s dead, his goons will scatter like cockroaches, and their entire operation will cease to exist in the sunny state of Utah. I may even consider starting up a side operation there, just to fill the void and prevent anyone else from coming into power.
I kiss Kimberly goodbye in the morning, but I don’t tell her where I’m going. I know she’ll hate me for this, but I can’t stress her out more than she already is about Leo. I didn’t want to say a word, but she pressured me to be honest and I believe it was a mistake.
She’s too pure for the Bratva. She must be protected from it.
So, I tell her only that Damien and I are going to get supplies for the hit, not that we’re going to do the hit today, and we slip out of the house early in the morning in an unassuming white SUV to do the deed.
It’s a throwaway car, one that will be disassembled at a Bratva junkyard and never found. We’re more clever than we used to be, sharper and more aware of the risks involved in killing a man.
There will be people who come looking for his killer, but they won’t pin it on us because we won’t leave a shred of evidence. Each second of this hit has been planned, and nothing can stop us from success.
With gun in hand and Damien by my side, we set out for Utah. It’s a long drive, but time is on our side. Leo won’t be coming out of his private club until ten in the morning, and by that time he’ll be fuzzy and unaware of his surroundings.
His guards will be drunk, too. Slow to react and unable to anticipate the shooting.
We don’t have to drive by. We’re going to park and shoot, ensuring that we’re able to hit the target multiple times before we have to leave. Leo will be dead, and we’ll be on our way back to Nevada with a new sense of freedom.
Unfinished business. That’s all this is. Like a blood clot that’s been threatening a heart attack for twenty-five years, I’m finally going to be able to spill some blood and clear my system. It’s a new start, a fresh opportunity to make a name for myself.
“You nervous?” Damien asks me ten minutes into the drive. We’re both sitting in the back seat while our driver, a man paid to forget everything he hears and sees, drives us down to Salt Lake City.
“Nervous? Why would I be nervous?” I ask.
Damien points to my gun. “Because you’ve been flicking the safety on and off for the past ten minutes.”
I put it down beside me, pulling my hands into my lap. “Happy?”
“I don’t care what you do, man. Just admit you’re nervous.”
“I’m not,” I grumble. “Just eager. Leo’s brother stole half my life from me.”
“Debatable.”
“That’s not debatable. If he hadn’t been out for my head, I wouldn’t have had to kill him. It was me or him.”
Damien raises an eyebrow, clearly trying to get me riled up, but I resist the invitation. Anger can be a nice distraction, but I want to stay focused.
We only get one chance to do this right. Any mistakes would either put us both in jail for the rest of our lives, in a grave, or at best, warn Leo that we’re trying to kill him.
This must work perfectly the first time.
I close my eyes, listening to road beneath the car. It reminds me of the heating unit in prison, rumbling away during the winter. It helped me fall asleep at night, and I used to get restless when spring rolled around because the heater wouldn’t be on anymore.
