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Without hesitation, we both go toward the dock. But by the time we arrive, Black and the woman have left.
“This one’s got a key!” Gavin jumps onto one of the skiffs.
I untie the rope from the bollard, and he takes off as soon as I’m on board. We ride through the dark waters, searching, listening for the slightest hint of where they went. Minutes pass like hours, painfully slow, because we’re aware that with every second we lose, Black gains miles.
“There,” I say, pointing to where Black’s boat has been tied to a post in a marina a mile down.
Gavin maneuvers our skiff close enough that I can jump onto the dock and tie the rope.
He peers left and right. “I can’t tell which way they went.”
I look too, unable to see any movement. Everything is quiet. Almost too quiet. Either no one is home or everyone is asleep. Third option is, they heard the sound of battle and locked themselves in.
“We have to split up,” I say.
He nods, then with his gun pointed at a downward angle but ready to shoot, he heads toward the rows of docked boats.
With my own weapon at the ready, I turn and go up the ramp to the boat and equipment storage building.
I move low and quiet, slipping from shadow to shadow, searching for any sign of Black or the woman.
He’s the first one I see, getting into a black Bentley.
Stopping about ten feet away, I aim the barrel of my Glock directly at his temple. “Get the fuck out.”
Pausing, he turns to me, and the grin he shoots my way sends a chill up my spine.
“You got me,” he says and steps out, arms raised.
“Where’s the woman?” I demand, scanning the area. Every one of my senses is on high alert, listening for her to approach.
Black tilts his head and studies me, his grin widening. “You’re the new Gianni heir. Noah Esposito. Francesco’s favorite. Tell me, when will you finally decide to claim the throne?”
The gleam in his ice-blue eyes tells me the question is a threat. One that he’d love to enact if I do make thefamigliamine.Do it, and I’ll kill you,his eyes say.
He knows me. Knows about me. And I don’t like that one bit.
“Why did you take credit for Renzo’s death?” I ask.
He gives me a strange look before he casts his gaze beside me. “Scar?”
I’m startled to find the blonde woman he came with so close to me, she could touch me if she wanted to.Ifshe wanted to, she could have slipped the edge of her razor-sharp switchblade over my neck.
Jumping back, I put some distance between us.
I might have been molded into a hitman, but she’s a stealthy assassin. The one who’s been killing the Dons.
For a moment, I wonder why she didn’t just kill me. Isn’t that what we’re here for? To kill each other?
Then she smiles, her blood-red lips pulling up beautifully, and I realize she’s just batshit crazy. The kind of predator who likes to play with her food.
“It was a thank you,” she says to Black but doesn’t take her eyes off me. “Made my job easier.”
“So youweregoing to kill him.” It’s not a question.
Her response is another smile. “I was impressed with your work. A bit sloppier than I would have done myself, but there was real anger in that murder.” She takes a step toward me, her fist tightening on the hilt of her blade.
I maintain the gun pointed at Black but angle my body toward her. There’s no doubt in my mind that the wrong move around her would be my last.
