Marco coughed, choking on his spit. “What?” he croaked.
A loud collective gasp echoed all the way around the room.
To keep himself from running his pissed off mouth any longer, he turned and stomped towards the man in the chair. He pulled his gun out and before Marco could stop him, he put a bullet into his head.
“Dammit, Bruno!’ Marco yelled. “We needed to find out who he was!”
Bruno let out a cold laugh as his rage abated only a bit. “Look at his license and his credit cards. I know who he is.”
Many pairs of wide eyes followed Bruno De Luca as he passed them.
“Clean the place up, like nothing ever happened. Then lock up when you’re done. I’ll see you all at ten a.m. sharp tomorrow.” He swung the door wide, disappearing outside.
When the door closed, everyone let out the breath they’d been holding.
“You heard the man, clean up!” Marco snarled.
A few minutes later, Marco met Bruno outside.
Bruno slung his leg over his new bike, turned her over and Marco jumped on behind him. They peeled out of the parking lot, heading for home.
Losing himself on the road, Bruno flew down the highway. As he rode, he felt something lift inside of him. An odd lightness in his being but he didn’t know why. The change in him had happened so suddenly it took him a while to feel it. It helped him numb his anger and frustration that had folded itself into his soul since Castillo’s take down. That shit had dragged like a dark cloud looming overhead. Life’s. Not. Fair. And those Castillo’s bitches were not going to wallow in self-pity any longer.
It was time for a fucking change.
Chapter Fourteen
What a difference a day makes
Bruno stood at his bedroom window and watched the time of day where night gives way to early morning. The town wasn’t awake yet, nor were the birds, but this was when Bruno did his best thinking. Fingering a cigarette in one hand, his mind mused on the events of the day before. All these years, he never dreamed of wanting something different. Never felt shame for the brotherhood he belonged to. But after last night…
“Fuuckkk!” he hissed under his breath. “How will they live with themselves? Men who spent years earning honor, earning respect and last night, they chose to give it away?”
Now he stood, closer to being broken-hearted than he’d ever thought possible. Angry and wounded. Wounds of injustice that could only be healed by unity. Something he could only hope still remained between them. Was the mob just something to keep the other men occupied? Why did they now seem to want to shake the chains that bound them?
Bruno’s hand closed into a tight fist at the thought, inadvertently crushing the cigarette into dust within his palm. Opening his trembling hand slowly, he blew away the tobacco and ash, dusting what was left away.
If he hadn’t shown up at the warehouse when he did last night, the enemy would have had his brothers on their knees, begging for mercy.Damn fools. Damn fucking cowards.Perhaps he was the fool not to gun down every last one of the intruders while he had the chance. Perhaps he would have if they’d outstayed their welcome a second longer. They might have gotten away from him but they wouldn’t for long. Word had already circulated that the Castillo family had been attacked, and reputation was everything in this business. The Castillo crime family was supposed to be untouchable. Now they were weak...what a difference a day makes.
He growled, bringing his hands to the back of his head then pulled two fistfuls of his hair tight. Dropping his head to his chest, he shut his eyes. He wanted to erase the memory of last night, had to get this out of his system, out of his mind.
At that moment, the bed sheets rustled behind him.
“Bruno?” his woman’s tired but pleasant feminine voice filled the air.
Bruno looked over his shoulder then smiled faintly as he met his woman’s cool blue eyes. “It’s okay, baby. Go back to sleep,” he whispered. Dropping her head down onto the pillow, she tugged the sheets over her body and rolled over.
Taking a breath, Bruno dropped his pajama pants and then his shirt and went over to the dresser. He changed into a sharp black suit. He needed to take care of the task he was supposed to the day before. Follow Castillo’s instructions in that letter.
He checked himself over in the bathroom mirror then snatched his keys from the cabinet by the door as he left the room. Running down the stairs, he grabbed his coat and dialed Frankie’s number. The man answered and gave him instructions to meet at a location he knew well, in Barona in one hour after he dressed him down for standing him up the day before.
Why the fuck would he want to meet there? Baronawas nearly a ghost-town up in the mountains, on land owned by native Indians.
Shaking his head, he hopped into his car then fired up the engine and prayed his wreck of a vehicle would last the thirty miles out of town into Ramona. Bruno drove south on the highway for nearly an hour. The fury he’d felt hadn’t gone away, but his emotions had to give way to his duty.
As dawn rose in the eastern sky, Bruno squinted in the sun’s glare as he turned off the main road, onto a steep mountain road climb. Slipping his dark shades over his eyes, he considered why the boss wanted him to meet with this man. He knew who Frankie Peterson was and what he did for a living, but the purpose of this visit eluded him. Perhaps it was nothing. Perhaps, the letter he’d received wasn’t from the boss. Perhaps, it was a trap. But what was he going to do? Ignore the boss’ orders...not Bruno.
He huffed as the sun crawled up the horizon and he rolled through the looping mountain roads of Ramona. Up ahead, he could see his destination in the distance.
