“We make sure he’s alone.”
I was beginning to see how Angelo Messina had escaped incarceration for so long. He was cautious in a way that I did not associate with most organized criminals. If anything, they tended to takemorerisks. Some psychologists believed it was part of group dynamics, calling it the “risky-shift phenomenon,” because people are more willing to push boundaries when encouraged by a group. But Angelo was different. I wondered again exactly how faithful he was to his initiation vows, whether he was more interested in loyalty to a man than a Family. Or at least one particular man. He was his Boss’s man through and through, as he’d told me.
Tino Morelli’s man. Did he have the same feelings for Luca D’Amato?
Something dark twisted in me at the thought. But before I could analyze the feeling, in the dark corner near the edge of the house, I saw a shadow moving.
“There’s someone there,” I breathed.
“Could be house guards. Could be task force. Could be your imagination.”
“Could be our killer looking to bag an Irish trophy,” I pointed out.
Angelo did not reply. I wondered whether he was regretting taking me with him. Whether he’d come to realize I wasn’t the best guy to have on a stakeout. Whether he’d come to realize I was actually a liability and he should probably ice me rather than carrying me along like a deadweight.
The figure was definitely moving.Creeping.
“There’s someonethere,” I said again.
“We wait.”
“But—”
“Wewait, Flynn.”
The figure in black was still moving, going around the side of the house. It paused and I stared as hard as I could to try to make out what was happening, and then saw the shifting shadows of the back gate opening.
Whoever it was, they were going into the backyard.
Every muscle in my body strained, and not just against Angelo’s commands. I was an FBI agent. I was trained toinvestigate. I wondered what Villiers would say if he could see me sitting there doing nothing.
If Icoulddo something, shouldn’t I do it?
Shouldn’t Itry?
“I’m gonna check it out,” I said, and hastily opened the door.
“The hell you are,” Messina hissed, grabbing for me as I bolted out of the car. But he was too late to stop me. I shut the door as quietly as I could, and was impressed to see that Messina had ensured the interior light was off.
When I looked back towards the shadow at the corner of the house, it was still there. I was sure it hadn’t noticed me, judging by the way it continued to slip stealthily around the back of the house. I pulled my own hoodie up as I heard the soft whirr of the passenger-side window going down.
I set off across the road before Angelo could demand I get back in the car.
Chapter Fourteen
Angelo
My first instinct was to drive off and leave ex-Special Agent Baxter Flynn to enjoy the consequences of his actions. But for better or worse, the kid was my partner in this, and I recognized his instinct for action common to the younger generation in our Family.
It was foolhardy, yes. But it was also brave.
The best I could do for him now was wait and watch—and hope like hell that either he had been mistaken in what he’d seen, or he’d be cautious enough to escape notice.
But as I watched him run silently around the back of the house, a bad feeling came over me. There was something wrong here. I started the quiet electric engine, then got out of the car to see if I could catch a glimpse of Bax. But as soon as I’d climbed out, I heard the unmistakable sounds of gunshots.
I drew my weapon on instinct and balanced my arms on the roof of the car. I heard shouts, running feet; the lights in O’Sullivan’s house went on, and in several other houses along the street. Bax came bolting back around the side of the house, making for the car.
Behind him, I saw the dark figure reappear, and raise an arm.
