Ricky clamps his mouth shut, his jaw clenching.Then he hocks and spits again.
“Seems you have a phlegm buildup,” Stefano comments, cool and unfazed.“I’d offer you some lozenges…” A slow, deliberate pause.“But you havemuchbigger problems than a clogged throat right now, no?”
Ricky puffs up his chest, loosens his grip on the duffel, and shifts his stance.
Shit, he’s going to—
Stefano moves first.
Gun drawn.Fast and smooth.BANG.
A bullet straight through Ricky Garro’s wrist.
Ricky yowls, doubling over with a vicious curse.
Stefano closes the distance and swings the butt of his gun against his head.
Ricky buckles to one knee.
Stefano shoves his jacket aside, pulls the gun Ricky had been reaching for, and hands it off to Gio.
Then, gripping Ricky by the collar like a wounded animal, he hauls him toward the cart and dumps him onto the outward-facing back seats.
He settles beside him, gun pressed warningly against his neck, then calls over his shoulder to me, “Brioso Hubb.”
Freaking hell.
The last thing I want is for the Uppers to start being closed-lipped around me because they think I’m too close to the head boss.But if I try to explain that to Stefano right now, he’ll probably shoot me for the delay.
With a resigned sigh, I reverse off the terrain and circle across to the Brioso Hubb.
Once there, Stefano drags Ricky off the cart and throws him onto the pavement.He then raises his gun and fires off two rounds upwards at the orange-tinted sunset sky.
In seconds, men come rushing out of the bar, weapons drawn.
They grind to a halt at the sight of Stefano.
At the sight of Ricky—groaning on his knees, clutching his bleeding wrist.
Once the Uppers are gathered, Stefano tucks his gun away.A silent signal that he’s not there as a threat.
One of them steps forward, wary.“What’s going on boss?”
“Garro here says the lot of you agree there should be a change in leadership over everythingI’vebuilt.Well…” He spreads his arms out wide, in mock surrender.“Here’s your chance.Your window of opportunity to prove yourselves to yournew bossout there.Take your shot.”He presses a finger to the center of his forehead.“One little holeright hereand I’m a goner.”His gaze sweeps around.“There’s no honor in being a fucking coward.So come on.Step up.Instead of hiding and scheming like sniveling wet rats.”
What the hell is he doing?
This man is either the most narcissistic person I’ve ever met, or a complete lunatic.
When he said he was in the mood to be loud, this kind ofmadnessis not what I expected.
Apprehension knots in my throat as I glance at Gio, silently pleading for some kind of intervention.But he looks just as on edge as I feel.
The Uppermen exchange wary glances, some of them looking like they’re holding their breath.
Someone shifts, and my heart stalls.I don’t even know what I’m bracing for, because I have no weapon, no way to defend him if this goes sideways.
But…
