And grabbed his middle finger.
Snap!
“MMMF!” he half-screamed, half-sobbed.
“You’re going to forget you ever saw Emilia,” I said –
And broke his ring finger.
Snap!
By this point, he was just sobbing.
“And if youevercome back to Florence – ”
I took the pinky and jerked sideways.
Snap!
“I will put a fucking bullet in your head,” I snarled. “Understand?”
“Mmf,” he wept as he nodded.
“Now get the fuckout of towntonight.”
I withdrew the gun from his mouth, the barrel slick with blood and saliva.
Maurizio seemed to be relieved, thinking it was over –
Except it wasn’t.
I reared back my arm –
And clocked him in the temple with the bottom of the gun handle.
Lights out.
He lay there on the ground, mouth open, face a bloody mess, the fingers of his right hand bent in five different directions.
I wiped my gun off on his jacket until it was mostly clean.
Then I stood up, walked over and picked up his pistol, and shoved it in the back of my waistband. I wasn’t taking any chances that he might wake up and come after me.
I retrieved my jacket and slipped it on, then put my Glock in the inside pocket.
When I came out of the alleyway, a passerby gave me a strange look.
I just stared at him coldly until he picked up the pace and hustled down the street.
Then I went back and picked up my shoulder harness where I’d left it.
I took off my jacket, put on the harness, holstered my gun, slipped the jacket back on, and buttoned it.
When all of that was done, I went back to the restaurant.
35
Emilia
