Nick took off his suitcoat, and several of the men in the warehouse reacted with surprise. It was unusual for a don to bloody his hands. He was above that work. Nick certainly had been; Alex had heard stories of Nick’s brutality, but they were old stories. In his time, the don delegated. He did his work behind a desk, or at a table.
They all watched Nick roll his cuffs, and no one said a word to change his mind. In fact, Donnie went to a cabinet and brought out a white coat, a lab coat, and Nick slipped it on, covering his clothes.
He went to Tony’s tool table and studied its contents. “May I?” he asked.
“Of course.”
He picked up two unused latex gloves and slipped them on. Then he selected a long, thin, sharp knife that Alex recognized as a boning knife. He went to the man, who had enough awareness to scuffle his feet, which barely touched the floor, and try to get away.
“When I reach hell, I will find you there and spend eternity making you pay,” he said, his voice clear and calm, without emotion at all. “But for now, this will have to do.”
Then he pushed the blade into the man’s bleeding chest. Near the place where the tattoo had been carved away, he opened a flap of skin and muscle to expose the ribs. He sliced through one rib, then another, and pulled them forward, making an opening.
That was when Alex understood what the don meant to do to kill this man who’d killed his daughter.
The pain had enlivened the sniper, and he screamed through it all. Blood from all his facial wounds had loosened the duct tape over his mouth, and the screams were loud enough to echo against the various metal surfaces around them.
When Nick put his hand into the man’s chest, the screams went high. When he put his hand around the man’s heart, they stopped at once, like a switch toggled to off.
But the man still lived. He could only make aborted attempts at breath, pathetic little grunts, but he still lived. Nick pulled his heart from the hole—the fit was tight, and the organ dragged over sharp bone and sliced open, and yet still the man lived.
Nick squeezed. The man’s eyes bugged.
And then he died.
Nick dropped the heart and walked away. The mauled hunk of meat hung there, and Alex thought hysterically of an earbud dangling from its cord.
The don had gone to the sink. As he washed he said, “I’m going home to my family. Tony, call in a crew and get this handled.”
“Already on it, don.”
“Good.” He dried his hands and removed the lab coat, tossing it into a bin near the sink. Folding his cuffs down, he went to Tony. “You swore you’d find them today, and you did. You’re a man of honor, Tony.”
Tony tipped his head. “Thank you, don.”
Nick went next to Angie. He set his hand on Angie’s still-bare shoulder and gripped it hard. Angie lowered his head and put one hand over Nick’s. They were almost an arm’s length apart, but Alex had the sense of an embrace. Comfort and support. Friendship.
Then Don Pagano turned to Alex. Alex still felt shaky, in some ways even more than before, but he wasn’t afraid for his life anymore. He could breathe as he faced this ruthless, ice-cold don.
“It’s time to go home, Alex. I’m sure your mother wants you home.”
“Yes, she does.”
“But I think Lia would want you with her. You gave her comfort tonight.”
Alex didn’t know what to say, or if the don expected him to say anything. But there was something in his mind, so he said that and hoped for the best.
“I told her I’d stay with her.”
A hint of a sad smile ghosted over Nick’s mouth. “And then I drew you away. Would you like to come home with me, Alex? I’ve had my family taken home. Or I’ll take you to your mother. It’s up to you.”
Alex wondered if that was really true, or if he would be making a bigger kind of choice than where to spend the little that remained of the night.
That was just too damn much to think about, in a night overflowing with terrible things and big thoughts, so he said the truth. “I want to be with Lia.”
Lia’s father nodded. “Call your mother on the way, let her know you’re safe.”