“Sofia,” I said far more softly than I would’ve spoken even early yesterday. “Until this is sorted out, you’re in danger. I’m in danger. My brothers might even be in danger. This whole mess could set off a war. I need to stick my head up and find out what’s going on.”
Otherwise, I wouldn’t be able to make the hard choices I had to make. Hell, my life as I knew it was already over. The Sartinis were trying to kill me. The Accardos wanted me dead. If I was losing everything, I damn well wanted to know why. And I wanted to know who was taking it from me. I wasn’t the kind of guy who forgave and forgot.
“Bring me with you,” she said. “I’ll watch your back.”
“You know I can’t do that.” God, I loved the heart she showed. But if she were hurt, I’d never forgive myself.
No, I wanted her here. Safe. Even if something happened to me.
“I know.” Sofia looked down at the frozen ground, her face anguished. “I just…had to say it anyway.” She gave a sad laugh. “I’d be terrified out of my mind.”
“You have one of the burner cell phones Declan gave me,” I said, trying to stick to business because it was painful to see her upset. “I put in numbers to reach either of my brothers. Or you can call your father if you know how to reach him. Or hell, the cops if that’s what you want.”
She looked up and met my eyes. “You mean if you don’t come back.”
The anguish on her face was too much for me. I couldn’t help it. I went to her and pulled her into my arms. She resisted for a moment, then hugged me tightly, desperately. I held her back just as tightly.
It surprised me how much it hurt to see her like this, to know I was doing it to her. But I was just as touched that she was so worried about me. She shouldn’t have cared so deeply—not after everything I’d put her through. I would never admit it aloud, but I didn’t deserve a girl like her in my life. She deserved someone better.
But she was in my arms right now. And she felt perfect there.
Finally, she drew away from me. I let her go. She walked back to the house.
“Come back to me,” she said without turning around.
I didn’t want to make a promise I couldn’t keep. So I didn’t.
Ten minutes later, I was back on the highway, heading east. An hour or so after that, I was on the edges of New York.
The Big Apple at night never failed to be impressive. So many lights. So many buildings. Millions of people.
I endured traffic until I left the turnpike, crossed the water onto Staten Island, and finally left 278 for surface streets for Freddy Russo’s home.
One thing about made guys was their arrogance. They had so much protection from the family that no one messed with them, even if they screwed you over, for risk of retaliation from the entire syndicate. I was a contract killer and had no protection like that. Freddy Russo was a capo in the Sartini Family. A real serious guy. And he had the weight of the Sartini Family backing him up.
But that protection made Freddy arrogant. Once, he’d invited me to his house when he was giving me a job. It was something the Sartinis had wanted done ASAP, a couple of Columbian brothers who’d muscled in on one of their numbers rackets, costing them a lot of money. He’d had me over during some backyard swim party for one of his kids, with Freddy grilling meat while children splashed in the pool. A bunch of Sartini guys from one of the crews had been there, along with plenty of associates and hangers-on. I’d never bring those degenerates around my kids, but Freddy Russo was a real family guy, apparently.
Yeah. A real family man. Even though his wife left him while Freddy did a stint at the federal prison in Marion, Illinois—the same place John Gotti had done time. Even though Freddy bragged about beating the shit out of his ex-wife when he got out and how she had a restraining order against him. His ex-wife had custody of the kids, too, so I didn’t have to worry about playing nice when I returned to Freddy’s house to pay another visit.
The way I looked at it, I was doing the world a fucking favor.
Freddy lived in Staten Island in some regular neighborhood that still cost an arm and a leg because it was Staten Island. If he had a lick of sense, he’d be hiding his ass in the darkest hole he could find, but guys like Freddy were all the same. Arrogant enough to be fools. Proud enough to take stupid risks.
I frowned as I cruised the neighborhood. Had I just described myself? Fuck. Maybe. But this wasn’t the time to be weak, to have second thoughts. It was too easy to think of the beautiful woman with those dark eyes waiting for me. I was doing this for her.
Wasn’t I?
A few minutes later, I drove past Freddy Russo’s house and slowed. It was a modern ranch-style house. No cars in the driveway, but it had a double garage. I parked two houses up, away from a street light. I put on the gloves and hat I’d bought last night on our supply run and climbed out of the car. I hid the pistol inside my overcoat, the suppressor in another of the pockets.
Approaching from the street was risky, especially with how popular doorbell cameras and home security systems were these days. It was dark out by now, but I intended to leave as little evidence behind as possible.
I cut across the lawn, avoided the front door, and stopped at the gate to the backyard. It was locked, so Freddy wasn’t a complete fool, but it was nothing for me to climb the fence and make my way to a side door to the garage.
That door was open. Not just unlocked, but the door gaped open at least half a foot.
I froze, my instincts going off in fireworks explosions inside my head. It was winter and colder than a snowman’s balls. No one left a door open in weather like this. Not even a utility door to the garage.
I pressed my back against the outer garage wall. I pulled my pistol and attached the suppressor to the end of the barrel, then chambered a round. The slide was loud and hard to mistake for anything else, but that couldn’t be helped. My heart started beating faster, adrenaline flowing in my veins. I focused on keeping my breathing steady. I didn’t want adrenaline fucking up my aim.
