“Keeping an eye on the new kid.” Stefano’s all business now. “You ready?”
I gesture for him to lead the way.
Iron Horse is surprisingly crowded for such a dump. The place is supposed to be Western themed, but mostly it just looks like a cowboy costume shop vomited all over the walls. There are a lot of young people, probably the Drexel crowd, bodies jammed into booths and two deep at the bar. It’s ten at night on a Saturday, and this place must be popular with college kids.
We elbow our way through the crowd. People part out of Stefano’s way like he’s a shark and they’re a bunch of tasty-looking tunas. He takes us to the corner of the room near the bar, and he spends a minute looking out over the crowd before he nods at a little group packed by an unused dart board.
“That’s him. Right there. Skinny, bleached hair, black button-down shirt.”
“How many people are with him?”
“Looks like two or three. I don’t know any of them.”
I nod to myself grimly, thinking it over. Our target is Mario Lopez, a minor member of a Latino gang called OperationSixty running out of North Philly. We don’t have beef with that particular crew, at least not yet. I have no idea why they’d want to attack a Serrano garage considering they’re not enemies and aren’t even competing in the same business. OperationSixty mostly deals meth, while the Serranos do cars. Makes no fucking sense.
That’s why we’re here though. For some answers.
“Took us too long to track him down,” I say, making my way back through the crowd. “We’ll wait him out. We take him tonight.”
“Works for me,” Stefano mumbles, sounding a little too pleased.
Back out into the night, Leo and Enzo are sitting together in Enzo’s car with a good view of the Altima. I nod at the pair and they nod back. I get into my truck and Stefano joins me. The big man has to slide the seat back to fit.
I stare into the night and think about my future wife. She wasn’t too happy to see me the last time I went to check on her. I’ve never met someone so defensive before. I swear, I could’veshown up with flowers and money, and she would’ve assumed I was trying to insult her somehow. But even with all that anger and mistrust, she still looked fucking glorious covered in dirt and grease and wearing that oversized clothing. Even better now that I know what she’s hiding under there.
Years of working on cars made her lean and hard. Her muscles are toned and incredible. Two weeks after fucking her, and I haven’t been able to stop fantasizing about getting another taste. I can’t help myself. It’s like a sick obsession.
“There he is,” Stefano says gently, and I look over. Mario’s crossing the street with his two friends. All three get into the Altima together.
“Damn,” I murmur. “That’s a shame.”
“Should we call it off?” Stefano’s frowning at me.
I shake my head. “Collateral can’t be helped.” I reach up and touch my earpiece. “Davide. I need a good spot to ambush these fuckers. You got your maps up?”
“Once they’re moving, I’ll work on something,” he says right away.
“Alright, Enzo and Leo, you two stay close.”
When Mario pulls out, I wait a moment before we follow, keeping a safe distance behind. “Hacked his GPS,” Davide says, sounding very pleased with himself. A route suddenly appears on my truck’s entertainment screen. “That should do it.”
“Where was he going?” Leo asks, sounding curious.
“Strip club.”
I grunt because, of course, he was. Stefano grins at me. “Man of simple tastes,” he says.
We follow Mario for a few blocks as he moves south. Davide’s guiding him along without him even realizing. Our resident hacker not only plans and maintains the depot’s legitimate trucking routes, but he’s also one of the most skilled cybercriminals I’ve ever met. The only problem is, he doesn’t like leaving his little command post, and he’s extremely introverted.
The neighborhoods here are rough. Fewer street lights, more boarded-up houses. I make a few turns, drive fast, until I reach a little side street. I count to ten in my head, watching the dot move along on the screen, until I slam down on the gas.
The Nissan appears as I’m barreling toward the intersection. Poor Mario doesn’t have a chance. He tries to brake, but it’s way too late. I slam into the driver’s side door, smashing the little sedan sideways and sending it skittering around in circles. My seatbelt digs into my shoulders, but my truck’s been reinforced for this exact purpose. Metal and plastic pieces fly into the air, and Mario’s windshield shatters against his passengers. Seconds later, Enzo and Leo pull up, their BMW screeching to a halt behind the Nissan as I put the truck in park and leap out, Stefano right behind me.
The car doesn’t move. There’s silence and stillness inside. I keep my gun up and ready. Stefano moves around to the side while Leo and Enzo flank the other ends. I approach the driver’s door carefully, watching as Mario slowly lifts his head, his brow bleeding into his eyes, and blinks in confusion at me.
“Who the fuck?” he starts, but I’m already yanking open his door. I grab him by the shirt and yank him out before shoving my gun in past him. The first passenger stares in shock andbarely has time to register what’s happening before I put a bullet in his head. His brains splatter the other guy, who understandably starts screaming his fucking face off. I finish him a second later.
Behind me, Enzo’s got Mario down on the ground. Three guns are pointed at the bastard’s face as Stefano and Leo join him. I make sure the dead passengers are very dead before turning to the little group.
