The color drained from his face. For a second he searched the room for someone to help maybe or tell him I was exaggerating. “You’re kidding right?” He shot upright, stepping back on unsteady legs. “We’re fucking family, Remo. You can’t kill me.”
Slowly, I neared him, shoes sliding through the blood pooling around him. “Says who?”
Emin was quicker on the take and jumped back a second before Tony heard the whisper of the machete flying up. Unfortunately, it was too late. The machete came down in a precise arc, the impact reverberating up through my shoulder as steel bit into the side of Tony’s neck. Bone resisted for a split second before ripping under the force. Blood burst outward in a violent spray, hot and thick, coating my face, my throat, the front of my shirt. His scream cut off mid-sound as the blade finished its path.
His head tore free in a savage snap, eyes wide with undisguised horror, it spun once before smacking the stone and rolling across the floor. One of the dons yelped and jumped aside a second too late, dark red splashing across his shoes and up the hem of his trousers.
“Fuck, Remo,” he griped, trying to assess the damage of his expensive Italian leathers.
I chuckled, enjoying the slide of blood down my jaw before it dripped from my chin. “And that’s for almost costing my brother and Rayden their lives,” I said to Tony’s headless body, slowly toppling forward until the stump of his neck hit the floor. The fountain of crimson following in its wake sent a thrill down my spine. Nothing beat the pleasure of taking someone’s life.
“Trust you to talk to a dead body, Remo.” Someone laughed behind me.
Curses in different languages surrounded me as Emin’s dazed eyes darted between me and Tony’s twitching body.
“Too nauseating for you?” I wiped my chin on my arm.
He shook his head. “I’ve killed, never in this fashion though. I’m a bullet to the head type of man.”
I smirked. “Just so you know, I don’t forgive, nor do I forget. And he is…well…was family.”
“Remind me never to cross you,” he mumbled.
“You should.” I winked. His tense expression reminded me of a constricted asshole, and I gave him about five seconds before he’d throw up. He rushed off in three. “Weak cunt.” I shook my head, wondering how some of these men made it into the world of crime when they clearly couldn’t handle gore. Me, I lived for it. “Get me a whiskey,” I ordered Gian.
He holstered his gun and headed for the bar while I lit a cigarette and crouched beside Tony’s body. Setting my machete on his back, I took a long drag on the cig, retrieved my phone from my pants pocket and dialed Lorenzo.
He answered on the second ring. “Talk to me.”
“It’s done.”
“What?” I could hear the frown in his voice.
“Tony.”
He paused for a long moment. “How fucking dead are we talking?”
I exhaled smoke through a grin. “The scrape him off the floor kind.”
“Christ, Remo.”
“He signed his death warrant the second he chose to get into that truck.”
“Elio’s going–”
“Who gives a fuck what Elio does,” I bit out. “He should’ve done a better job raising his son to respect his family.” After Mother’s death, her brother, Elio, joined the Cartel as opposed to supporting Lorenzo. Despite crossing over, he’d maintained his distance, choosing not to view us as enemies. Now, his moral code was about to come crashing down. “The end justifies the means, Renz.”
I could hear him pacing before he said, “get a clean-up crew out there, I’ll handle Elio.”
“You should let me handle the–”
“No,” Lorenzo snapped. “Just get it done.” He cut the call as Gian approached, holding out my whiskey.
My grin wide, I took the drink, tossed it back in one go and handed him the glass. “Get me another and the clean-up crew.” He reached inside his jacket pocket for his phone. “Tell them, that should be delivered to his father.” I pointed to Tony’s head, aware I was going to piss off my brother and change the family dynamics with our uncle. Phone to his ear, Gian walked back to the bar while I cleanedVeritàwith a pocket square. “We did good today, partner. Fucker didn’t see you coming.” I was edging the material into the grooves, making sure to get all the blood out when I felt it.
Eyes on me.
My fingers paused mid-wipe, that stone cold certainty I knew well, descending into my stomach. Slowly, I lifted my head, scanning the room, allowing that eerie sense of being watched to guide my gaze for a moment. When no one seemed out of place, I stood, fisting the square and headed for the entrance. There, I inspected the shadows. Nothing moved.
