“Do you love her? Answer the question or I blow her brains out.”
With anybody else I’d think this was just dramatics. But not with Fergal Sweeney.
“Yes,” I say. “I love her.”
“Wow.” He lowers the gun. “That’s incredible. You really believe that, don’t you?”
“Three million,” I say carefully, spreading the cash out. It’s almost time. I have to count on his pride. I have to count on him being petty. I hope I’m right. I take out the wad of cash, knowing it’s the right one because it’s heavier. I need to prime Fergal. I need to make him angry. “Fergal, can I ask you something?”
He just looks at me and raises an eyebrow.
I heft the cash from hand to hand as casually as I can. “I want to know what it felt like when Hazel’s mom died in childbirth. I want to know what it felt like to watch your wife die in front of you.”
His face drains of color. His eyes narrow. A metal bite enters his voice. “Have you gone completely fucking crazy? You’re surrounded by my men and you ask me a question like that?”
“You have threatened to kill the woman who is carrying my child.” I shrug. “I guess I just want to get myself ready.”
Even Hazel’s looking at me like I’ve lost it, but not Benjamin. As though hypnotized, his eyes follow the cash going from hand to hand.
“How about this?” Fergal hefts the Desert Eagle at me. “How about I put a hole in your neck and we finish this conversation as you bleed out on the floor? Does that sound good? Goddammit, top throwing that fucking wad around—”
“Shit!” I exclaim theatrically, dropping it to the floor. I hope it doesn’t look obvious. It lands at Fergal’s feet. I wave my hand at it the same way entitled men gesture at waiters. “Pick that up, would you?”
Fergal’s pistol is trembling in his grip now. Veins bulge on his neck. “No fucking way. You pick it up, guinea fuck.”
“You know, Fergal, I’m starting to get offended.” I walk around the table. “And that gun is making me uncomfortable.”
“Would you prefer this?” He laughs, pointing it at his daughter again. “Just finish the counting before I lose my patience.” He lowers the gun, watching me intently, enjoying the humiliation of forcing me to pick up the cash. “That’s all you are, De Maggio, just a piece of lowly shit. Your old man was the same. Your little bastard of a brother would’ve been the same, too.”
I reach between the folded bills, my fingers closing around the knife. I would’ve preferred a gun, but even a small one would’ve been too bulky. I would’ve preferred a bigger knife, but this small, sharp scalpel was all that we could hide in the hollowed-out core of the bills.
“What the hell are you—oh, fuck!”
I leap at him with the blade, bringing it to his neck. Blood sprays out.
And then, as they say, all hell breaks loose.
It’s good that the Cartel took the Elephant’s hand. Because when he brings it up in a reflex of protection, he drops his gun. I feel the bullets hitting me in the side: three of them, burrowing deep in my torso, fired by his men. Blood erupts out all over my shirt and soaks it immediately. I feel my head get light but I don’t stop. I lean down, grab his Desert Eagle, and bring it to the Elephant’s head, spinning to use him as a human shield.
And, thank God, Benjamin is helping his sister. He’s dragging her over to the crates on the chair, firing over her head. Another bullet misses Fergal and pierces me in the thigh. I’m bleeding and the world is turning hazy.
I’m shooting, taking two men through the forehead, another in the chest. The recoil of the Desert Eagle almost dislocates my shoulder without my body steady beneath me. I have never been in so much pain in my life. I wonder if this is how Angel and Father felt at the end.
Outside, my men are firing. The air tears in two, like a thunder strike, when the Albino fires his sniper rifle. Somebody screams. I just keep dragging Fergal back down the warehouse, limping, wheezing, trying not to pass out as bullets kick up stones at my feet. Eventually, I get around the side of the cover where Benjamin has dragged Hazel.
I assess her. She’s unharmed. It’s a goddamn miracle but—wait, no, there’s a