Page 59 of The Disputed Legacy

SAUL

Iknew that voice. That smarmy asshole never sounded any different. I’d first heard him at that café the Romanos shot up. Then I noticed him hiding when Hugo and I went after the men who’d killed our spies.

Keeping a tally of my enemies was a cumbersome chore.

Knowing who was who from which family was often a messy puzzle.

But this motherfucker?

I stepped out in front of Willow, blocking her and pushing her back into her apartment.

This motherfucker had just signed his death sentence, scaring her.

She’d gone so stiff when she opened the door. Fear shone from her eyes and a faint tremble made her lower lip wobble ever so slightly. Merely seeing her so scared lit an unspeakably powerful anger to flame inside me.

But hearing this man’s voice and knowing a goddamn Romano was trying to harass her with some bullshit call about a disturbance or noise?

That was too much.

He was trespassing at the wrong time, the wrong place.

As I revealed myself, he hardened his expression. Challenged and facing off with someone he couldn’t push around, like he wanted to with Willow, he tipped his chin up.

Defiant.

Ready to fight.

Prepared to take me on.

“You?” A little smirk crossed over his face as he focused on me.

“Yeah. Me.” I narrowed my eyes, channeling all my irritation from the past week into stepping out into the hallway in such a manner that I was advancing toward him like a fighter. He wouldn’t be able to interpret my stalk as a casual approach. I was meeting him in the middle, then forcing him to back up.

“Stay inside,” I ordered Willow as I got this man further from the door. “I’ll handle this.”

The door closed, and the second I heard her lock it behind me, I charged at the imposter. He wasn’t a cop. Just a Romano, dressed like one.

He didn’t waste a second in trying to take me down, either. In the hallway of a building where too many civilians could see us or be wounded, I didn’t want to get my gun out yet. Willow could step out and see me fighting this supposed cop, or worse, shooting him. Any other tenant could notice this fight and call for help from the “real” cops.

Locking into an instant wrestling position, I rammed him down the hallway until his back slammed against a wall. He might not have counted on my reacting so quickly, with so much force, but he was going to get what he’d asked for.

Fuck around and find out.

He was getting one last lesson in life about that.

“You piece of shit,” he snarled.

“What the fuck are you doing here? Looking for me?” I punched him hard enough for him to fling back into a stairwell. No one screamed at the metal door slamming open. It was empty. Without having to worry about any witnesses, I could rain my fists on my enemy as much as I wanted.

“Not looking,” he got out when he staggered back. Blood dripped from his lip. He panted heavily as he tried to get his bearings from my strong start. “Just hunting for another bastard to bring in.”

I scoffed. “You’re not taking me anywhere.”

His reply didn’t track. If a Romano saw me, they’d want me dead. Not captured. They’d made it too clear that they wanted to end my family, and as one of the top men leading it, they’d want to eliminate me. Anton Kozlov had a part in getting Nik captured, but with him gone, it seemed that Dominic Romano was interested in death, not hostages.

“Oh, yeah?” he taunted.

“Yeah.” I wasn’t playing around with his bullshit. Before he could lunge at me, I got my gun out and fired. Once. The silencer kept this on the down-low, but as he fell to the floor of the landing, a neat red hole between his eyes, I heaved out an annoyed exhale at the fact that I’d need to deal with his corpse.