And by alluring personality, I mean, of course, the cocked and ready gun I pushed straight to his forehead with a smile.
“Thanks so much for coming.” I walked him back to the opposite wall of the alleyway. “Very nice of you, Mr. Hale.”
If he was surprised or rattled, he didn’t let it show. His posture was relaxed, his breathing even.
“Your charitable greeting doesn’t go unnoticed,” he drawled back. “But if you’re looking to hire someone, you’re out of luck. You can’t afford me.”
“One thing you should know about me, Hale.” I gave him a pat down with my free hand, my gun still shoved to his forehead. As expected, whatever weapon he carried was well concealed. Not in his pockets, waistband, or shoulder holsters. “I enjoy the killing requirement of my job.”
“And yet, here I am.” I could hear the smile on his face. “Why?”
“You shot my woman.”
He shrugged. “It wasn’t personal. Your father gave me a job, and I took it.”
“Youmissed.”
A beat of silence reigned before he spoke. “So I heard.” He trained his gaze on mine. He had the cynical, steely eyes of a man who had seen everything and loved nothing. “Those things happen from time to time.”
“Maybe. Not to you, though.”
I wanted to rip the mask off his face, but I also knew that every fiber in his body was alert and ready for this. One wrong movement, and he could break my wrist. We were both trained enough to know the risks and consequences of every move we made.
“Thank you for the compliment, but I assure you?—”
“Why’d you miss, Tristan?” I cut him off. “It was a clear, easy shot. You wanted her to survive. What do you have with Tierney Callaghan?”
He said nothing. I wanted to strangle him. I couldn’t. Any sudden movement could be the end of both of us. I’d shoot. He’d snap my neck. And we’d both lose.
One of us needed to make a mistake.
That someone wasn’t going to be me.
I had too much riding on this.
I decided to switch gears. “You came to the Forbidden Fruit Club yesterday.”
“Yes.”
“Why, if you weren’t going to take any potential job from me?”
He said nothing. I pushed.
“It’s a long way from Africa, and I hear that’s where you live these days.”
Again, he didn’t answer.
He was curious. About the club. About our family. About the Ferrante legacy. Something drew him to us, and it wasn’t money. He accepted our father’s business but not ours. Money was money, though. And mine was just as green as Don Vello’s. It made me wonder if maybe he had a soft spot for the don.
“Have you heard from my father recently?”
He gave out a low chuckle. “I do not discuss my clients’ business. Ask him yourself.”
“Oh, I would…” I slowly ran the gun from his forehead down his nose, all the way until I reached the base of his throat. “But he is…shall we say,indisposedthese days.”
Tristan didn’t say anything, but I’d known I caught his attention. I kept twisting that screw, knowing he would snap sooner or later. I always managed to find people’s pressure points.
“He’s on his deathbed currently. Sad, really.”
