padlock, but Gino produced some small bolt cutters from inside his leather jacket and made quick work of getting it off.
“Bingo,” he whispered, gently cracking the door open. “Close it behind you and keep your eyes peeled.”
“Got it.”
Darkness consumed us as we entered a narrow passageway. Gino pulled out a flashlight and guided us deeper into the abandoned building. At the end there was a doorway leading into a vast open space.
“Anything?” I asked, growing impatient.
“Fuck, you need to see this.” He disappeared inside and I followed.
“What the fuck?” My eyes went to the far wall. It was covered in newspaper cuttings, photographs, and string. Like one of those boards from a crime documentary.
“He’s been watching us,” I said, moving closer to the display. There were pictures of Morello outside his store. DiMarco’s and numerous other local businesses in and around Providence that had ties with the Family.
“This doesn’t make any sense,” I mumbled while Gino took photo after photo on his cell, probably to forward to Uncle Toni.
I reached out, ghosting my fingers over a recent photo of me, Nicco, and Matteo with Alessia. A chill ran down my spine. He wasn’t just watching Providence; this fucker had been to Verona. He’d been watching us. There were other photos of Uncles Toni and Michele. A newspaper article reporting on Nicco and Arianne’s wedding.
“Who the fuck is this asshole?”
Alejandro was supposed to be connected to the Mexican cartel in Connecticut. This didn’t seem like their MO.
“Someone who knows too much,” Gino said over my shoulder.
“But what’s the endgame? It doesn’t make any sense.”
Morello and DiMarco’s were business associates, they weren’t legitimate Marchetti businesses. Why mess around with the small timers, when with all this intel, he could come right for the head of the snake?
“We’re missing something here…” Gino mused.
But something caught my attention. It wasn’t a sound so much as a smell.
“What is that?” I searched the immediate area, tracking the familiar scent. It was the same coppery twang I remembered from my childhood whenever my father and uncles took us hunting.
The unforgettable smell of death.
“We should call for backup,” Gino said, but I was transfixed on finding the source of the pungent scent. With little natural light in the warehouse, I pulled out my cell phone to use the flashlight to guide my way. Old shelving was littered around the space, leaning against walls, and toppled over like a haphazard obstacle course. On the far wall there was a row of busted up lockers. I weaved through the mess aware of the sticky, squelchy sound underfoot.
“Gino,” I called, and he came running, grinding to a halt when I dropped the beam and illuminated the pool of blood surrounding the lockers.
“Do you want to do the honors?” he asked me, and I leaned over, yanking open the first locker.
“Holy shit.” The dead body toppled out, splatting over the floor in a spray of red mist.
“Fuck,” Gino hissed. “That’s Alejandro.”
“Wha—”
Just then the clatter of footsteps sounded from somewhere behind us and we both glanced in that direction.
Someone else was in the warehouse.
Had the guy doubled back? Or had that been his intention all along?
The question evaporated as a figure came out of nowhere, knocking into me and sending me crashing to the bloody ground.
“Enzo,” Gino roared as I tried to buck the guy off me. But with the blood acting as a lubricant, it was impossible to get any leverage.
“Surprise.” He glared down at me, trapping my body between his and the cold ground beneath me.
“Get the fuck off me.” I slammed my forehead into his nose, and he rolled away, grunting in agony. Gino leaned down and grabbed him by his collar, dragging him to his feet. But at the last second, I saw the glint of the blade.
“Gino, watch ou—”
The guy brought his hand high and jabbed it down in one fell swoop, the knife sliding into Gino’s jugular like butter. All I could do was stand there and watch as dark-red blood spurted out of his neck.
“H-help me.” He gurgled, clutching his neck with both hands, blood oozing down his gloved fingers, as the guy yanked his knife free and stepped away.
Gino staggered backward, swaying a little.
“Fuck, man.” I rushed to his side, hardly able to believe what was happening. My hands went to cover his, trying to stem the blood. But it was everywhere seeping through over my gloves like a red river. “Tell me what to do? Tell me…”