clutching the guy by his collar, “we know you rented Dominic Alejandro a storage unit. Word on the street is that the Mexicans are looking to move into town. So just tell me what you know, and we can all be on our way.”
“It’s… it’s not what you think, man. You’ve got it all wrong. Alejandro doesn’t run with the Mexicans anymore, he’s—”
I rammed my fist into his face again. He wasn’t telling us anything useful. Maybe the fucker didn’t know anything or maybe he was just trying to cover his tracks.
If Gino had his way, I knew there was probably zero chance of this coglioni walking out of here alive. Gino and his guys didn’t leave loose ends. They cleaned up after themselves, always.
I could do it—I could be the one to drive Gino’s blade through the guy’s stomach and watch the life drain from his eyes—but a tiny part of me hesitated.
Death changed you.
I knew that from killing my father in cold blood. Every time your knife or pistol or even hands took a life, it took a part of you. And I knew if I walked this slippery slope with Gino’s crew, there might not be any pieces of me left to return to Verona with.
But I needed this.
I needed to expel all the anger and betrayal swimming in my veins. I needed to feed the darkness swirling around me like a thundercloud.
I knew it was a slippery slope… but right now, I didn’t care.
“Tell. Me. What. I. Need. To. Know.” I punched him again, blood spraying into the air as he spat out a couple of teeth. His body slammed back into the chair, his eyes shuttering. Only this time, they didn’t open again.
“Okay, Enzo, he’s done for now.” Gino approached me, laying a firm hand on my shoulder. “Go get cleaned up and get a drink. I’ll handle it from here—”
“You don’t need to do that, I can—”
“I said go. You’ve done enough, kid.”
I bristled, baring my teeth. Gino noticed, smirking. “You’ve still got a lot to learn about the world, Lorenzo. Take it from me, give too much of yourself too early, and you’ll never get that shit back.” Something passed over his mangled face. “Now go. I’ll meet you at DiMarco’s later.”
DiMarco’s had become our hangout the last few nights. The liquor flowed as freely as the pussy, and Zander was all too willing to indulge Gino and his men… and now, that invitation extended to myself.
I stormed away and grabbed a towel, wiping the blood off my hands. Then I snatched my jacket off the rack and shucked into it, before shouldering the door and spilling out into the dark alley.
My cell phone vibrated again, and this time, I dug it out of my pocket and checked the screen. It was hardly a surprise to see Nicco’s name.
Call me.
Tsking, I texted him back.
You need to relax. I’m fine. Everything is fine. I’ll call when the job is done.
My cell started blaring away, my best friend’s name lighting up the screen. I hit decline and stuffed it back in my pocket. I didn’t want to hear his concerns. I was here and Nicco was back in Verona, and right now, that’s the way it needed to be.
My father had killed his mom in cold blood. He’d let Nicco and Alessia and Uncle Toni believe Aunt Lucia left because she couldn’t hack being the boss’ wife. That wasn’t something I could just forget, and knowing Nicco the way I knew Nicco, it wasn’t something he could just forget either.
Time and space would be good, for both of us.
Pulling out a smoke, I lit it up and dragged in a deep lungful, relishing the familiar burn. The motel was a stone’s throw away from DiMarco’s. I figured Gino picked it, so it was easier to fall into bed after a long night of top shelf liquor, high-end pussy, and shooting the shit. But I wondered if he had an ulterior motive.
Zander DiMarco was a showboater. He liked to flash his cash and his relationship with the Family. He was a friend to anyone who entered his bar as long as their wallet was fat, and their tastes expensive. Men wanted to be like Zander DiMarco, to soak up a good time. And when the good times rolled, people got complacent. They started talking about things they shouldn’t.
I took off down the street toward the motel. My knuckles burned but I relished the sting. Pain reminded