The lights of my car lit the garage at one of my buildings. A second later, it opened and I pulled in, putting the car in park. One of Mariposa’s ridiculous songs came on the radio. I felt my brain shrink each time the chick hit a note. Mariposa loved it, though. And sometimes, when a particular line would play, she’d point at me and lip-sync the lyrics.
It was one of the weirdest fucking things I’d ever seen anyone do. But then I’d have to remind myself that she was young. That innocence I wanted desperately to save had somehow been preserved, and when she felt free enough to reconnect with it, it came out at times like those.
My boots were silent against the pavement as I made my way inside. Donato had sent two guys over to keep watch, so my eyes narrowed on a third figure before they relaxed.
I held out my hand and Donato took it. He pulled me in and we slapped each other on the back.
“I hear congratulations are in order,” he said in Italian. He lifted a glass from the table and we clanked before we both said,salute, and then downed the excellent whiskey.
“He still singing like a canary?” I slipped my gloves on. I’d be hard to see at first, dressed head to toe in black.
“We are past this. He is angry now. Demands to speak to the man who has ordered his taking. He assures us that he will pay any ransom.”
We both grinned. I patted Donato on the shoulder, and he took his men and left. We both grinned. I patted Donato on the shoulder, and he took his men and left.
I slipped a ski mask over my face before I stepped into the room. The light was faint and only lit the table and two chairs. Other than that, there was only a cot. A bathroom stood off to the side, bare to the bones, only a flushing toilet. There were no windows in either room, only brick walls.
The man I came to see stood from the bed, trying to be quiet but failing. He was breathing heavily. “I got you now, you fucker.” His voice had a little thrill about it. “You leave a gun behind and you don’t expect me to use it onyou?”
He cocked the hammer and then—
Click.
Click. Click. Click. Click.
I laughed as he hurled the gun against the wall.
“Son of a bitch! You played me!”
He charged me and I stopped him in his tracks, using my fist to impale his stomach. His mouth opened and closed as he gasped like a fish out of water. I took him by the collar and threw him toward the table. He landed on the floor, and instead of getting up, fighting back, he stared up at me.
“Take a seat,” I said.
His eyes narrowed. “Do I know you?”
“Nah,” I said.
He licked his lips and held his dirtied hands up. “I told the other guys, the ones without the masks, I’ll give you anything you want. I’m connected. I’ll do whatever it takes. Whatever you want is yours. All you have to do is say the word.”
“Ah.” I breathed out. “Your people aren’t going to kill us anymore?”
He had been mouthing off about how connected he was and how we were all dead men when I first picked him up. Deadmen.He had no idea there was only onemanwho had taken him. Me. The rest were just guard dogs until I came back to finish this.
His eyes narrowed even further, almost closing, trying to see past the darkness that cloaked me. “No, they’ll go easy on you if you let me go now. I’ll make sure of it.”
“Why didn’t you use the gun, Quillo?”
“I tried to! It had no bullets.”
“I meant before. On yourself. You didn’t even check for bullets.”
He tried to make it subtle when he scooted away from me, but I noticed everything. “What good is a gun without bullets?”
“You know the game,” I said. “I was giving you an easy way out.”
One of Donato’s men had left the gun on the table. He had given him an option: Take the easy way out, put one bullet in his brain, or it would be me who ended it. Except Donato’s man didn’t mention me by name. He called me Fate and told him what a cruel motherfucker I was. But the problem with men like Quillon “Quillo” Zamboni is, they think they own the world. Therefore, he thought he’d make it out of this alive.
He wasconnected.His father had been before him. But he knew how the game was played, and if someone powerful enough wanted you dead, you’d be dead. And if you were a coward, putting the gun to your own brain and blowing it out would be easier than whatever fate had planned for you.
