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“Ah, yeah. I remember your old man was a real hard-ass. Such a shame, what happened to Anthony and your mom.”
I try not to react at the mention of my father. It hadn’t occurred to me that Maroney would have been around long enough to have met him. I wonder if they ever did business together.
The Ferris wheel stops when we reach the top, presumably for more people to get on. I look out over the carnival with the city behind it, the colorful lights gleaming in the night. I know Ava would like this view.
The sound of Maroney rustling underneath his seat causes me to turn. When I look back at him, he’s pointing a silenced pistol at me.
“Sorry for the surprise,” he chuckles, standing up. “And no, if you’re wondering, this Ferris wheel won’t start turning again until I give the word.”
I’ve had guns pointed at me lots of times. Probably more times than I could count on all my fingers. But it’s never scared me before.
This time, when I see the gun in Maroney’s hand, it terrifies me.
If he kills me, I’ll never see Ava again.
She’s probably getting to the hotel room I booked for her in Boise right now, maybe unpacking her suitcase, maybe getting out of the Uber. She probably hates me. Probably thinks she means nothing to me at all, that the only thing I see in her is a womb and a convenient last name.
I have to tell her she means more to me than that.
Suddenly, to have her so far away from me is devastating. I’ve been so worried about losing her, so worried aboutprotectingmyselffrom the pain, that I didn’t notice she was already gone.
If I never see Ava again, she’ll never know what she truly meant to me. She’ll never know about the future I wanted us to have together.
“It’s an honor, really,” says Maroney, standing up. “Getting to clip Anthony Rossi’s son. And Nazzaro Rossi’s grandson. Long line of hard hitters you come from, kid. Hope you know it’s onlybusiness.” He presses the tip of the silencer into my mouth. The metal is cold, and it tastes like smoke.
The image of my wife’s face is burned into my brain as I launch into movement, all the tension inside me releasing like a slingshot. I swat the gun to the side, trying desperately to move my head out of the way as thecrackof the silencer momentarily fills the enclosed space.
A sharp pain rings through my head, but I ignore it. I have to get the gun. Maroney grunts with exertion as I try to pry it out of his hands, then he throws a hard knee to my body, knocking the wind out of me. It’s all I can do to keep from crumbling, but somehow, I stay upright. I gasp for air, fingers scrambling around the handle of the pistol.
“Fuckin’ piece of shit,” the Irish mobster snarls, throwing another knee. This one catches me too, right in the liver, and I can barely breathe as I keep fighting him with everything I have.
Somehow, I pry his fingers open, and the gun drops. His eyes go wide. Both of us dive for it.
He gets there first. Because I let him. The moment his hand reaches the weapon, I stomp on it as hard as I can, receiving vicious satisfaction as I feel the fingers break. He cries out, still bent over, and I grab his head and slam my knee into it.
The gondola swings as Maroney sprawls backward into one of the seats. I pick up the gun and dump the entire magazine into him.Crack crack crack crack crack crack crack crack crack.Bullets rip into his chest, blood exploding from hole after hole and spattering the inside of the Ferris wheel car.
After about 30 seconds, the Ferris wheel starts moving again. I don’t know if somebody heard the commotion, or if Maroney’s corrupt operator just couldn’t keep it paused for any longer. It doesn’t matter. I wipe down the gun with my shirt to remove my fingerprints and drop it on the floor.
When my gondola gets to the bottom, I pull up my undershirt to cover my face and sprint out, shoving through the crowd before anybody can recognize me or see what I’ve left behind. I fly through the exit, run several blocks, then call Dominic as police cars speed past me, their lights and sirens cutting through the night.
“You okay?” he asks. “They’re shutting down the amusement park right now, some kind of emergency. Police are coming. We’re on our way out. Did you have something to do with that?”
“Colin Maroney is dead,” I tell him flatly.
“Oh, fuck. Okay. Did you plan that?”
“No. He forced my hand. Are any of his men still hanging around?”
“A few of them, yeah. They’re trying to call Maroney. I don’t think they know about whatever just went down.”
I take a deep breath, pulling up the app on my phone that allows me to check on Ava’s location. “Kill them.”
***
I call an Uber to take me home, then wait on a bench for it to arrive. The nights are getting chilly now, but I don’t feel it. I’m too hopped up on adrenaline. My ride shows up, and I get into the backseat.
The driver, a skinny kid wearing too much cologne, looks back and stares with a shocked expression on his face. “Uh, mister, are you okay?”
