Page 19

18

ADRIANO

M y tires screech, barely clearing the wall as I blast around another corner.

Orvieto’s streets were not designed with cars in mind, let alone sports cars and high-speed chases.

To be fair, I wasn’t exactly planning on any of this either.

“Shit!” I yelp, throwing the handbrake and taking another turn to avoid the patter of gunfire from the back of the car ahead of me.

I swear, these assholes have no regard for anyone.

I was just trying to get Guiliano alone. In the back room. Ask him some questions. Maybe put a few bullets in him.

Should have been easy enough.

Two streets over, one street down, and I should be able to cut off?—

An SUV clips my tail end, shattering the taillight on the MC20 and making something inside my soul crack to the tune of $275K.

I may have grown up rich, but I’m not entitled or frivolous.

And I love sports cars.

Especially sleek masterpieces like this Maserati. Stupid of me to take it out, though. Should have known things would go south. Here I thought I would just be heading straight out of this little side job and Northward before the sun went down.

Instead, I’m chasing down a squad of heavies after midnight.

I am grateful for the sheer power and maneuverability of this masterpiece as I stomp the gas, veer into the turn, and send the blacked-out tank of a vehicle straight off the road, tipping the poor sons of bitches and dropping them upside down on the street below us.

Doing so, however, means my quarry, my target, gets a lead out on me, shooting off around a bend.

Fortunately, I studied the map on the flight over and learned every possible escape route. I know they turned down a dead end.

Slamming the stick shift into gear, I gun it, not wanting to give them time to set up a barricade, to dig in. Of course, that wouldn’t be an issue if Dom’s guy had filled me in to the fact that there would be an entire squad of mafia-type soldiers hanging out in the club where I was sent to find this weaselly piece of shit.

And that they all work for him.

Fucking Guiliano Carcosa.

Another hiccup that I couldn’t have expected as the target for this hit.

The guy is the biggest player in Italy for human trafficking coming through the East into Europe and the US. I should have known Dom would set me up for failure. That he’d send me into a fucking trap.

Maybe he thought he’d kill two birds?

He gets rid of me and one of his nemeses in one fell swoop.

Assuming I get a chance to actually kill the guy.

And that is the plan. It’s a cold reality of my life, something I’ve never come to like, unlike some of the guys I came up with. But it is necessary.

As long as I get to talk to the bastard first.

I need to see why Dom wants him dead. Because Falco, Dom’s contact, was cagey, ill-informed.

Not to mention high as a fucking kite. Can’t stand tweakers. Can’t trust them.

In any case, the lack of intel notwithstanding, there doesn’t seem to be a clear motive for Dom wanting this guy gone. Guiliano has been active for nearly two decades. The only reason my brothers and I never wiped him off the map was a clear divide of territory with some of our Italian rivals, and his connections with the Triad.

Alessandro always tried to avoid war.

Dom doesn’t seem to care.

More than that, however, there is a pattern emerging with the hits he’s sent Ciro and Ero on, the places they’ve robbed. He’s covering up something. Covering up his tracks, maybe?

Screeching to a stop, my instincts immediately go into hyperdrive.

The alley is long and thin.

No doors. No exits. Except for the gate at the end of the street in the archway. Service entrance for city works.

The SUV is stopped, parked haphazardly. Doors open.

Not a single one of the brutes in sight.

Where the hell did they go?

Slipping from the car, I strafe down the alley, my gun ready, my body in full tactical mode. Instinct and muscle memory are a hell of a thing.

No one in the SUV.

No sign they climbed the walls somehow.

“What the actual fu?—”

A scuffle echoes up from the darkened corner to my left and I pivot, creeping over toward the noise.

This whole situation reeks of ulterior motives, bad planning. Only on my part.

Guiliano’s gang knew exactly where they were going.

“I hate catacombs…” I grumble, edging up to the lip of the well-hidden gap in the cobbles. Steps only a shoulder’s width wide descend into pitch black.

Good ole Orvieta.

I take the first few steps before I cave and click on my flashlight, tipping the beam down but keeping my gun barrel up. Dripping water and echoes filter from up ahead, along with muffled whispers and the occasional footstep.

Great.

Me and five baddies alone in the dark. Steeling my nerves I let my objective mind take over, locking into that ice-cold state that’s seen me through worse than this.

Careful steps, quiet.

Disorganized. That’s the word I would use to describe every crackpot scheme we’ve been rolling out since he took over the family.

And that’s not like Dom. Not like he used to be.

It also makes no fucking sense for him to try and dispose of me so close to my wedding, so close to the goal he laid out for Gloria and I to produce him an heir of his blood. Maybe he changed his mind. Found another sperm donor for Gloria.

Never mind the whole thing is sick as hell.

The slightest movement of air to my left has me stepping back, to the side. A pipe swishes where my head just was.

Followed by a growl at their miss and the sound of the assailant reaching for his holster. Should have had it out, dipshit.

Close my eyes. Prep for the dark?—

Clicking off and dropping my flashlight, I sidestep another swing from the guy waiting silently to my front right. Tap, tap. My muzzle flashes, showing me two more, at the end of the hall. Another crouching behind a crate, taking aim.

Dark.

Drop to my knee, pivot.

My palm slams down on the hand reaching for that gun in the same movement, sweeping my gun into his gut. Tap, tap.

I’m already moving, staying bent over, letting the crumpling bodies behind me cover my noise. No way the guy laying in wait expects me to close on him this fast.

Stop. Hold my breath.

“ Stronzo …” he mutters, just on the other side of the crate, clattering for his flashlight.

Click .

“Boo.”

“ Cazzo —” His scream is cut off by my knife in his throat; following through the stab, I lay him out flat on his back, scooping up his rifle. No sense leaving a good weapon. Not that I plan to spray bullets in confined quarters.

Last resorts, and all that.

More movement up ahead, lights blinking and reflecting from around the corner. And voices.

Way too many voices.

Taking a deep breath, I rise, cracking my neck.

Step, step. Pause.

From cover I peer around, once fast, then slower, lower.

Three more waiting for me at the junction.

This is taking too long.

“Oy! Vieni qui, ho bisogno di aiuto! ” I pitch my voice down to mimic the guy I just killed, grunting in pain.

“Valdo?” a deep, gruff voice approaches.

I stay perfectly quiet. Perfectly still.

He steps around, blinking into the darkness. Second shadow gives away his partner. Third would stay behind to watch their back, guard Guiliano’s retreat.

Slash the throat, the knee, spin, step.

I throw out both of my arms, low, taking up as much space in the tight turn, blocking the second guy from raising his gun, keeping him between me and the one at the end of the hall.

“Ay!” he shouts, just before I put my forehead into his mouth, charging him backward. Recovering from the spray of blood bursting from his lips, his eyes widen as he hears the same thing I do. The cocking gun, the shout behind him. “No, no, no!”

He tries to shout it over his shoulder, to warn off his cohort.

Thanks for the body shield, fucker.

Momentum carries his body through, almost right into the shooter, forcing him back a step.

As soon as the body goes down, I leap. Straight forward.

Ceiling is a hair’s breadth away.

Watch your head …

Slapping the gun aside, I take his first strike on the side of my arm, tucked in tight. Still knocks the wind out of me. Hits like a sledgehammer.

Where the hell did they find a suit jacket to fit over this mook’s arms?

Makes Batista look like a shrimp.

Need to hit him hard and fast.

My knee pistons forward, my hands scooping his neck dragging his head down onto it?—

Only he doesn’t budge.

Stars explode in my head as he lowers that gorilla dome and headbutts me, resisting my downward pull and knocking my knee out of the way with insane strength. Two enormous fists twist into my collar, my jacket, and I’m off the ground, jerked to the side and flying through the air. Still seeing spots, I tuck, rolling my shoulder to minimize the impact.

The tumble still hurts, reverberating through my ribcage, knocking the wind out of me again. At least he put some distance between us…

Three thumping footsteps announce him covering the gap.

Flopping onto my back I raise my hands, looking up, watching the barrel of a gun rise. Sucks that the last thing I’ll see is a behemoth in a suit. A grin spreads across his wide, puckered face.

“Damn, you’re ugly .” It’s the only thing that comes to mind.

The silverback’s underbite twists into a growl at my insult.

Right before he goes stiff, his mouth dropping open in shock. Then tipping over me, falling.

Oh no, no!

Thump.

“Mmmf!” I grunt, taking the dead weight of the massive thug right on top of me. Over one thick shoulder I see a dark form materialize out of the shadows, watching me with a bland expression.

“You’re late,” I snap.

“You’re out of practice. Sloppy.”

“Says the asshole who dropped a body on me. Do not tell Ciro about this.”

“Don’t be ashamed, Adri. Everyone needs a weighted blanket every now and then.” Ero steps past me, not offering me a bit of help.

“Stay in your lane!” I grumble, rolling the body off me, dragging my aching body back to my feet.

“Stay on my six.”

“Giving orders now?”

“Sh.” Ero holds up a hand, halting our progress.

The room up ahead opens up, light from above illuminating the circular enclosure. Dark arches break the wall across from us, at least four other entryways.

“Trap?” Ero whispers, calm as can be.

“Definitely a trap. But they don’t know I have backup. Where is Ciro, anyway?” I hiss back, glancing up into the high-walled room.

Ero just shrugs, glances right, then left out of our shadowed cover. He nods for me to take the lead. Better for him to stay out of sight in case they jump me.

Just as I step out, I see him, Giuliano, standing across from me, just inside another doorway. The light illuminating the cylindrical space is stark, from a streetlamp above. The fresher air tells me the roof overhead is open to the night sky, an access point for the catacombs.

“You Diamantes, you are always pigheaded. Foolish.” Giuliano chuckles, taking a step closer, his stance relaxed, his hands empty. “Don’t know how to keep noses out of other people’s, eh you know, fatti gli affari tuo. ”

“Business, yeah. Which is exactly what I wanted to talk to you about, but you bolted. You know, I remember the Carcosas used to be hospitable.”

“You remember wrong, Diamond Dog.”

“Yeah, well I remember right that you used to know how to stay in your territory. It’s the only reason my brother ever let you keep breathing.”

“Your brother, yes. I like him, before. Then he goes, vigliacco , coward. Territories change. Bosses change too.”

“Sometimes those things are connected,” I posit, taking a chance that my hunch is correct.

Giuliano smirks, raising his eyebrows. “Sometimes things also get you killed. You always were smart one, Adriano. Seems to me you should have been the one making the calls. Now, you work for a two-faced, no, a three-faced snake.”

“You’d know better than anyone what it’s like to be in his pocket, wouldn’t you? What’s the matter, Giuli? Dom did you dirty? What did he promise you if you helped him take over, had his back?”

“You said it. Territory. Makes my line of work a lot easier.” He’s candid. Honest. Not trying to play me at all. Which means he’s either confident that none of this matters, or he’s confident I won’t walk out of here for it to matter.

“All the same, he sent me to kill you.”

“Of course he did. But not to renege on our deal.” Carcosa flicks the spent butt of his cigarette to the side, a signal. Ten heavies armed to the teeth step from the other doorways, fanning out around me.

Well. That answers that question.

“Care to fill me in before you fill me full of lead?” Ciro is never going to let me live that line down if he can hear me.

What can I say?

I like a little old-school movie drama.

Giuliano laughs, sliding his hands into his pockets. Smug bastard.

“This is like movie villain, right? You make me spill plan to you, keep me talking while partners close in, yes?”

“Sure, if I had any partners to call in.”

“Hm. You don’t lie so good. Him, he don’t hide so good,” he snickers, pointing behind me.

Glancing back I spot Ero grimacing, his hands tucked behind his head as he steps into the dim light with two more thugs at his back.

He’s supposed to be the sneaky one. Well.

Anytime now, Ciro …

Shoving both of us to our knees, Carcosa’s men disarm us, pat us down.

“Now is time when you offer me deal, try to negotiate, yes?’

“ Qual è il punto ?” I shrug. “You don’t want anything we have to offer. If anything, you’ve got one up on him. His consigliere, one of his favorite hitmen. Both at your mercy.”

“Really?” Ero growls under his breath, flicking an angry glance at me.

“But you have no value to Domenico. Or to me. Unless you want to be like him, turn, join my crew, eh?” The heavy-set, pig-faced flesh dealer grins mockingly, his shoulders shaking with mirth.

“I’d rather die, thanks,” Ero spits on his shoe.

Now it’s my turn to glare at my brother.

I was trying to drag this out. Not antagonize him.

Ero winks, flicking one finger so only I can see.

Guns ratchet back around us, every one of the stone-cold bodyguards taking aim. Giuliano’s smile turns deadly, derisive. “Last words?”

“Just tell me one thing.”

“Fine.”

“You said Dom was ‘three-faced.’ Who else did he play?”

“This, I tell you, Adriano. Dom turned his back on your family, his family, yes?”

“That’s one, then. Yeah.”

“For your brother, I tell this. He also turn on me, and on others who help him when he need to disappear.”

“And the third?” I ask, tensing my body.

“One thing, I said, for each of you. The third, I think I keep for myself, as insurance.” Giuliano frowns, his head tilting as a noise echoes down into the tunnels from a distance, through the tunnels, coming from everywhere at once. “What is that?”

“That’s our third face.”

The rumble rips up to a screech, the scream of an insanely loud motorcycle engine filling the air, turning every eye to the impossible sight up above us.

A bright-green bike soars overhead, out into thin air.

Carrying my little brother, laughing hysterically.

Panic slows down time around us, Carcosa’s men all shouting at once, raising their guns, bullets start to fly. Mostly from Ciro’s dual pistols as he lets go of the bike, diving hard and unloading on the circle of assailants around us in a spiral of death.

Ero and I are already in motion, explosively leaping from our places on the ground and dashing in different directions. He takes down one thug, then another, sprinting toward the wall.

I lose sight of him as I bolt for Giuliano, tackling him and charging as hard as I can, back into the archway door ahead. Just as the motorcycle smashes into the ground behind me, exploding in a cacophony of flame and violence.

Screams fill the air through the smoke as the blast takes me to the ground, Giuliano taking the brunt of it as I rolled in midair.

Ringing ears, bleary-eyed, I push the stunned, injured man off of me, stumbling back to the doorway, worry tightening my chest.

“Ciro?! Ero?!”

“Adriano! Hey!” Ciro’s chipper voice echoes as the smoke clears, revealing bodies everywhere, the wreckage of his Ducati still smoldering.

Looking side to side, I don’t spot either of my brothers until I look up, my mouth dropping open in disbelief.

Like two swinging pendulums in a clock, my twin brothers dangle above me, a cord strung over a beam high above clipped to a harness at each of their waists. Ero must have clipped himself in as Ciro fell, slowing his fall.

“You ever going to tell me how you two do that?”

“Do what?”

“Time shit like that so well.”

“Psycho twin connection, of course!” Ciro laughs, flailing about at the end of his line.

“It’s psychic , fuckwit,” Ero mutters, glancing around, realizing the problem.

“Right. Right. Well, maybe you can use your twin magic to get down,” I snip, turning back to a moaning, whining Giuliano.

“You fucking Diamantes…you are insane!” Blood is spattered all over his suit, soot and dirt smearing his swollen face.

“Don’t look at me. They’re the crazy ones.”

“You’re all dead, you hear me?”

“I hear you, Giuli. But that’s not how this is going to go.” I crouch down in front of him, tapping the butt of my gun gently against his forehead, stilling his attempt to rise.

“Finish it!”

“You first. Who else did Dom burn?”

“Let me live. I tell you.”

“Everything?” I pull back the hammer with my thumb.

“Yes!” he shrieks, his lips quivering miserably. “Everything.”

“And you disappear, never give us grief over any of this?”

“ Abbiamo un accordo … we have deal.”

“Ero, no—ah fuck!” Ciro’s shout precedes a loud thump behind me, the impact of lighter, more graceful boots right after that.

Biting down a snort, I drag Guiliano up to his feet, shouldering him out along the wall and plopping him down on a crate nearby. After a few moments of catching his breath, Carcosa looks up at me, at Ero to my left, Ciro dusting himself off on my right.

“Well?”

“When he was younger, before Alessandro was in charge, before he left…Dom was working for the FBI…”