Dominic
“Leave it to me,” I deadpan, already reaching for my coat. Matteo’s face twitches with a question he doesn’t dare ask. Why am I going to investigate an operation between three rival gangs?
Matteo’s surprise is understandable. I never get involved in trivial issues such as this. But today I want to have fun.
“What about the other meeting, Boss?” Matteo cocks an eyebrow at me, his hands still resting on his sides. It is obvious he means the more important meeting, but what thrill will I get from that meeting?
Sitting with a bunch of boring liars rehearsing the same line to court my favor doesn’t particularly interest me. And today I’d rather choke on the barrel of my own gun than entertain it.
“Reschedule.”
As I leave the mansion, I head toward my car and climb in, watching the escorts from the rearview mirror trail behind me.
Isabella. She’s all I can think about nowadays. How, like a good girl, she’d worn the less revealing clothes I ordered. How her face turned too indifferent when she mentioned her father, which could only mean she was trying to mask how she truly feels about him.
I should wonder about the dynamics of their relationship. But that’s none of my business. Securing the contract is my sole focus.
But I still haven’t decided if I want to fuck her or fuck herup.
With that, I fist my hand on my thigh and anticipate chaos. Minutes later, I’m perched on the rooftop, rifle in hand, and watching the scene play out through the lens of my weapon. They’re in an uncompleted building a few feet away from the rooftop.
The three gang leaders sit along a round table, a briefcase before each of them. There are twenty guards scattered asymmetrically around the table.
Manuel, with the bald head and neck tattoo, moves first, opening his briefcase to reveal a stack of cash. There’s a smug smile on his face…as if he’s the star of the show. The other, unfamiliar guy’s eyes widen with relief…not greed. Means he’s desperatefor money. Then he opens his briefcase. White, crystalline substances grace my vision.Drugs.
I take in his open palm on the table. I furrow my brows when I see that it’s not rough. Not the callous pattern of a gunman or even a knife fighter. Definitely a pen. He’s representing someone. I file that away and assess the third person.
Santino is seated like the rest. He hasn’t opened his case yet, but there’s something in his gaze. He watches the other two talk with a look I know too well. Mistrust.
Somehow, he doesn’t speak much. Just glances between the other two as if he’s criticizing. But that’s not even the best part.
His finger twitches every time Manuel moves, and not just any finger, his trigger finger; he’s waiting for a slip up… ready for anything.
Perfect victim. I cock my gun.
I stopped doing business with Manuel and Santino since they became sloppy and greedy. And they haven’t retaliated. Not even said a word.
Usually, I wouldn’t be bothered by three low-life men’s gang meeting. But if they’re willing to break bread together after a period of silence, it only means the gangs have a larger agenda.
Somehow, a gut feeling tells me it’s my mafia. But I won’t let their plan, whatever it is, manifest.
Locking my target, I press the trigger. Not to kill. Not yet.
The bullet breaks the window and hits Santino on the shoulder, not enough to kill…but enough to set him off.
I sit back and watch with a smile as chaos unfolds. Just as I calculated, Santino’s gun is out before his mind can catch up as he fires a shot at Manuel. Manuel bleeds from his stomach, but his guards quickly cover him and fight back. Then bullets start to rain on all sides.
No one will suspect an outside hand. The seed of distrust I’ve sown with one bullet could fester into a lifelong rival war.
Watching men unravel is a finer pleasure than watching them die.
A vibration in my pocket claims my attention, causing me to look away from my masterpiece. My face quickly sets into a frown as Matteo’s name comes up on the screen.
“What?” I grunt.
“Boss,una delle nostre spedizioni è scomparso(one of our shipments has gone missing),” he answers hastily.
Fuck! A surge of anger rushes through me. Without wasting time, I pack my rifle and slowly move toward the staircase.
