I drop him and at the same time, I kick him hard in the side.
He heaves, gasping for breath as I crouch down beside him.
"Tell me where he's planning to strike next."
"Fuck you," the man grunts and this time, he does spit in my face.
The disrespect combined with how angry I am that Vittore has gotten away clean surges, and I lift my gun and put a bullet right between the man's eyes.
I stand and watch the light flicker from his eyes and then look around at the mess we've made.
There's no point in hiring a cleaner to mop this up.
Everyone knows there's a war going on between the families now, and all I want to do is go home and get to the bottom of all of this.
I'm supposed to be wrapping this up, not making things worse, but every time I pull a thread, ten more come loose.
Gerard really did his homework messing with my organization, and he's going to pay for that soon.
By the time we get back to my villa, it's nearing midnight.
My hand throbs where the skin split open across my knuckles, and I'm just grateful Angelica and Sofia are in bed already.
I know how much she'd hate it to see me coming home covered in someone else's blood yet again.
I head to my den and pour a glass of whiskey.
Then I sit down at my desk and pour some of the liquor over the wound.
It burns, but the pain clears my head and I use a rag I found in the car to dab at the blood still oozing from the cuts.
The door opens and Angelica walks in.
She stops when she sees me sitting at my desk with blood on my hand and a rag pressed against the wound.
"What happened?" she asks calmly.
There's a hint of judgment in her tone, but I can't blame her.
I really thought she'd be sleeping by now.
"Business got messy." Frustration rises again as I think about Vittore and his betrayal.
Nothing is going the way I hoped.
I want this over so I can just figure out what the hell is going on between me and Angelica and make a permanent space for Sofia in my life.
She walks over and takes the rag from my hand and examines the wound and shakes her head. "This needs to be cleaned properly. You're just making it worse."
Her chastising is a bit annoying, but she's not lecturing me, at least.
And I'm surprised when she disappears for a moment and returns with a clean tissue and antiseptic from the bathroom.
She sits down beside me and takes my hand in hers.
Her touch is gentle as she wipes away the blood and applies the antiseptic.
I can only watch her and marvel at the change in her over the past few weeks.
