“Smoke,” Roger said quietly. “Smoke coming out of the house on the right.”
Mickey took a deep breath.
Soon.
He kept his eyes aimed at the doorway, his skin tingling. He knew it was going to go down any minute, and adrenaline was buzzing through his entire system. He kept his finger alongside the trigger, maintaining discipline, and he waited.
He heard athwoom, and he caught a glimpse of flames peeking through the roof.
“We got fire,” Roger said in an excited whisper. “Holy shit, that was fast.”
There were panicked shouts, and two people came racing out into the yard. One was on their cell phone, frantically screaming that their house was on fire.
Mickey ignored them, keeping his eyes trained on the door of the Luchesi house.
Any second…
“Shit, there it goes.” Roger gasped. “It’s spreading. It did the thing! Like Valdemar said! It’s spreading to the other house.”
Mickey took another deep breath.
He saw a shadow at the doorway, and it finally opened.
He exhaled and pulled the trigger.
Three shots took down the first three men who tried to escape. The homeowners who were out in their yards screamed in terror. The front door hung open, blocked by bodies, and Mickey fired again when he saw someone else trying to flee.
“Fuck,” Roger hissed. He sounded breathless, eager.
Mickey didn’t know why that was such a turn-on. He filed it away to deal with later and scanned the front of the house.
The house on the right was now in flames, the entire top floor consumed with fire. The house on the left was smoking wildly from the top windows, and the Luchesi house was burning on the side and the roof. There weren’t any sirens yet, and Mickey could see someone trying to break through one of the front windows. He aimed and fired, shattering the glass, and the person dropped. Three more men tried coming through the windows on the other side of the front door, and he took them out as well.
“I see Cold,” Roger said suddenly. “He and Jules are going around the back. Those bastards are trying to get away.”
Mickey heard gunshots, but kept his aim focused on the front door. More would probably come. When they did, Mickey fired.
Sirens wailed in the distance.
“Shit.” Mickey sprang up, scowling when he saw two men sneaking out through the broken window.
“Hey, come on!” Roger urged. “You remember what Cold said. We hear the fuzz, we fuckin’ blow!”
“I only killed eleven.” Mickey scowled. “Damn.”
“Oh, I’m so very sorry. Come on, Sally Psycho. We gotta go!” Roger smacked the top of the car. “Now!”
All three houses were burning now, thick black smoke filling the air, and the sirens were getting closer.
“Coming.” Mickey dismantled his rifle, quickly tucking it back into the case and putting it in the trunk. He heard more gunshots and the slap of footsteps close by.
Two suited men had run across the street from the side of the house, quickly smashing the window of a car and getting inside. One of the homeowners who had fled their burning home yelled at them and was immediately shot.
The man who had fired was Salvatore Luchesi.
“Salvatore?” Mickey could hardly believe it. He didn’t know what Cristian’s man was doing here with Matteo, and he didn’t care.
He was going to kill him.
