Should have taken those binoculars.
Or that sniper rifle.
Not that I’m very good with the weapon.
I squint my eyes.
Yes… I can see the tiny figures of Luciano and Stefano in the boat now. They’re wearing black balaclavas. I also see a third figure: Angela. She’s the only one who’s head isn’t covered.
Shit. In my anger I forgot entirely to cover my face. Even though I do plan to kill the Rizzos, it’s likely they have another boat watching from a distance, just like my brothers are observing from shore. I don’t need their snipers recognizing me.
I might be able to find a balaclava in the glove box. We always keep stuff like that handy. I remove the glove key from the keyring and ease off on the throttle so I can open the box without falling off the boat. Inside I find a spare pistol, ammo, and… bingo. A balaclava.
I slip it over my face, shut the glove box, then ease the throttle back to full.
Ahead, I can see Stefano and Luciano rendezvousing with another boat. There are two men aboard it, as per the rules my brothers and I came up with for the handoff. They haven’t bothered to wear masks. Rifles dangle menacingly from their shoulders.
Come on. Faster. Faster.
I watch them use mooring ties to secure the boats together. A Rizzo points at me and the occupants of both craft turn to look my way. The Rizzos train their rifles on me but my brothers apparently talk them down because those rifles lower a moment later. No doubt Roberto or Enrico sent a text to warn Stefano I was coming.
One of my brothers hauls Angela to her feet and carries her to the joined gunwales, where she’s snatched up by a Rizzo. Meanwhile, the other Rizzo tosses a metal suitcase aboard in exchange.
I ease the throttle back as I approach. Everyone is watching as I pull up to the speedboats. I recognize one of the Rizzos as Vittorio. The Cleaver. He’s holding Angela, grinning down on her like she’s his property. Meanwhile Angela is frozen into submissiveness by the sight of all those guns. She’s not even putting up a struggle, not at all.
I’m filled with insane rage, and the only thing stopping me from drawing my gun and opening fire on The Cleaver right now is my fear of missing: it’s extremely difficult to shoot someone on a rocking boat when you’re standing on a lurching deck yourself. If I shot Angela instead of The Cleaver I’d never forgive myself.
“The deal’s off!” I shout as I enter earshot. My voice cuts through the fear that petrifies Angela, and she straightens. I see hope and determination flash in her eyes. Good. I’m going to need her to jump overboard when I give the signal.
The Cleaver glares at my brothers. “I thought you said he was your partner?”
“He is, but he has no say in this,” I hear Stefano reply.
“Then tell him to fuck off,” The Cleaver says.
I notice a tarp covering the Rizzo boat from gunwale to gunwale behind Angela, and I can’t help the growing sense of unease I feel about all this.
What the fuck are they hiding beneath that tarp? Don’t my brothers see it?
On impulse, I grab the pistol stowed in the back of my jeans and point it at The Cleaver. I struggle to keep it aimed at his chest as our mutual decks bob beneath us, and I hold my finger well away from the trigger.
“The deal is off,” I repeat.
The Cleaver sneers. “You won’t fire. You can’t.” He darts behind Angela, then hauls her to her feet. She whimpers as he holds her in front of him. “Go ahead.”
“You’ve made your first big mistake,” Stefano tells him. “You think we care if she lives or dies? She’s just a trade for us.”
“Then why isn’t your so-called partner firing?” The Cleaver asks.
Luciano has been fiddling with the locks on the metal suitcase all this time. Finally he opens it.
The case is empty.
“What the hell—” Luciano looks up in shock. “It’s a trap!”
He and Stefano raise their pistols.
At the same time, men armed with assault rifles rise up from their hiding places beneath the tarp. I count six in total. They divide their aim between me, Luciano, and Stefano.
