He nods slowly. “She’s a strong woman. Stronger than most men I know.” He takes a long drag. “Your father used to say she was the best thing that ever happened to him.”
I swallow once, keep my eyes on the road. I don’t know what to say to that. Santino doesn’t seem to expect anything. Hejust smokes and watches the streets roll by until we reach the address.
The house has moldy siding and a yard full of rusted kids’ toys. The car in the driveway is missing its front plate. No way this is Viktor’s place.
“Stolen,” Santino says. “Swapped it onto his own car.”
We confirm it with the guy who answers the door. Beer gut, crooked teeth, pissed off when we point out his missing plate. Viktor’s not here.
Another dead end.
“Don’t worry,” Santino says as we head back to the truck. “We’ll get him. These things take time.”
“I’m getting married next weekend.”
“Isn’t that the point? Make him come to you?”
I pull open the driver’s side door harder than necessary.
Santino chuckles as he climbs in. “You like her. The girl.”
It’s not a question.
“It’s not a bad thing,” he continues. “Caring about her.”
I don’t answer.
“I’ve known you a long time, Matteo. You’ve always done what needed to be done. That’s not going to change because you like the girl.” He takes a drag of a new cigarette. “If anything, it makes the whole thing more convincing. Just don’t let it make you sloppy.”
“I won’t. I’m just tired of waiting. I want this bastard now.”
“Then I’ll help.” He settles back in his seat. “What else is on your schedule tonight?”
“Got to deal with some gang that vandalized the strip club. Cash says they’re young guys, just starting out. Probably trying to make a name by fucking with us.”
“The same Cash whose thumbs you broke?”
“He’s still useful. Knows everyone on these streets.”
Santino makes a noncommittal sound. “I’ll come with you. Been too long since I’ve scared some punk kids.”
The dive bar sits at the end of a dead-end street. Windows covered with peeling beer ads. The door is metal, dented, hanging slightly crooked on its hinges.
Santino stubs out his cigarette on the doorframe. “Ready?”
“Yeah.”
He pulls the door open and steps inside.
I’m right behind him.
The gun appears from the shadows like it was always there. Pressed to Santino’s temple before either of us can react.
The shot is thunder.
Blood sprays hot across my face. Santino drops.
No.
