I give him directions to the firehouse, enjoying the way he flinches every time I speak.
Up close, he’s even more pathetic than I expected. Thinning brown hair, weak chin, the kind of guy who probably got his ass kicked in high school and never got over it.
When we arrive, Matteo’s got a few soldiers with him, and the sharp smell of gasoline burns the air. Perfect timing. Nothing like a little arson to end the day right.
“Hold up, Matteo,” I call out, stepping from the car with my gun trained on Richie. “Change of plans.”
I march the sniveling bastard into the building at gunpoint. He’s practically crying already, which is pathetic but satisfying.
“What are you doing to me?” he whimpers as I force him toward the center of the space.
I pistol-whip the back of his skull hard enough to scramble his brains. “Save your breath. You’re going to need it for screaming.”
The gas fumes are thick here, making my eyes water, but my aim is steady as I put a bullet through his kneecap. The scream that tears from his throat echoes off the walls, and he collapses like a sack of shit, clutching his shattered leg.
Blood seeps between his fingers, and he’s sobbing now. Good.
I turn and walk out without looking back. Nina will never have to be afraid of this bastard again.
Matteo’s waiting outside with a matchbox, but he hesitates, waiting for the word.
“That’s the man who kidnapped my family,” I tell him, meeting his eyes. “He terrorized them.”
Something dark and violent flashes across Matteo’s face. He strikes a match and tosses it through the doorway without another second’s hesitation.
The building goes up like it’s made of kindling. Orange flames lick toward the sky, and black smoke billows into the afternoon air. Over the roar of the fire, I can hear Richie screaming his lungs out.
I don’t feel a goddamn thing about it.
Six months ago, I had nothing worth protecting. Now I have everything that matters.
Walking back to my car, I pull out my phone to call Nina. Austin’s probably wondering where his ice cream is, and I promised him we’d watch that superhero movie he loves.
Some promises you keep with ice cream. Others you keep with fire.
EPILOGUE
ALESSIO
One YearLater
I blame Superman for this, too.
Not directly, maybe, but if comic books hadn’t convinced half of America that putting on a suit could transform you into something better than you are, I wouldn’t be standing in this church sweating through Italian wool while my seven-year-old son tries not to drop our wedding rings.
The tux cost a fortune. My tailor’s kids are going to college thanks to this thing. The church is old Vegas money—all stained glass and guilt-inducing architecture. And I’m about to promise to love, honor, and cherish a woman who once told me I wasn’t that good in bed just to piss me off.
Joke’s on both of us, I guess.
Austin makes his way down the aisle like the fate of the world depends on not dropping those rings. At his side, Paolo’s daughter Isabelle is supposed to be scattering rose petals, butshe’s mostly just throwing them straight up and giggling when they rain down on her head.
Kid’s got the right idea. If you’re going to do something ridiculous, at least enjoy it.
When Austin reaches me, he grins up with that gap-toothed smile that’s pure Nina. “Are you excited to marry my mommy?” he whispers, loud enough for the first three rows to hear.
My throat gets tight again. “Yeah,bambino. I am.”
“Good,” he says seriously, “because she really loves you. She told me.”
