Page 32

Arosso

I’m in the car with Captain Dall, speeding to our first location where I have a car for him to take.

It hurt more than anything to leave Quinn sleeping in the night.

I knew white wine was her kryptonite, and I knew her wearing that dress would induce a sexual session I’d never be able to control.

The combo? She’s out like a light so I can finish this thing.

Love you, kid.

Sorry it had to be this way.

“You want to go over it one more time?” I ask Patrick.

“Been running stings for my entire career, Arosso,” Patrick says. He fits right into the mob with the trench coat and hat I bought him. Let’s see if he can actually pull this off.

“Humor me.”

“Pull up to the game one block away, give the bouncer the brick with the note, turn back to your car and wait for Nikolaj and Ferraro to eventually exit. Radio you as soon as they’re on the move,” Patrick says.

“If the bouncer asks who I work for, say no affiliation. Just someone paying a long overdue debt.”

I nod, breaking eye contact and internalizing that this is really the end.

“Still can’t believe you got a cop uniform so easily,” Pat says, jarring me from my moment of silence.

“It’s easier to pretend than you think.” I hunch my neck and act like a blue-collar policeman, like he is.

“Prick.”

We both cackle.

“Hey,” his tone changes. “Thanks... for this. For someone like you, I’d imagine it would’ve been much easier to put a bullet in my head, and the fact that you didn’t… means you must really care for my little girl.”

“I do. I know I shouldn’t… and I know it’s all fucked up. But that’s life sometimes.” I shrug.

“Mph,” he grunts in agreement.

Once we reach the location, I hand him the keys to a prim black-on-red BMW and offer my hand to shake.

“No hard feelings, Captain Dall. And when this is over, I know I don’t have to say it, but keep Quinn safe. Your world isn’t going to be the same after this.”

He nods curtly.

“And keep those fucking gloves on. You might have a career dusting for prints, but I have one making sure you don’t find any. Might be hard with that belly, but be a fucking ghost tonight.”

He hoots at me. “Yeah, yeah. See you on the other side, Arosso.”

I nod back at him as he exits the car.

“Try to keep my house intact,” he says.

“Can’t promise you that.”

He shuts the door and I peel away. The clock’s ticking.

Fifteen minutes go by. I’m going ten miles an hour over the speed limit with one earpiece in my right ear, connected to the miniature radio on my belt. Patrick tested to make sure we’re on the same frequency, and I’m getting ready for the ultimate play of my life… literally.

All of my muscles constrict randomly, as if my body knows I’m betraying it. Like I told Quinn, I wish there was another way. But John Scar gave me the intel. Eight dirty cops within the bratva ranks, and I’m sure they’ll all be accounted for tonight given the severity of the message.

Every Russian in the tri-state area is scouring for Captain Patrick Dall. Little do they know, he’s right under their noses.

I pull a block away from the Dall household, and check the four silenced pistols strapped to my legs and waist. Unzipping my duffle, the sniper rifle is fully assembled, but I undo the scope and stick it in the front of my belt for easy access.

I’m sorry, Quinn.

Exiting the car and quietly shutting the door, I sprint for the backyard to get to the roof I’ll be scouting from to get a bird’s eye view of Quinn’s home.

Brick is infinitely easier to climb than shingle, which is why I chose this house.

I scoped it out weeks ago, checking the pristine interior of fine materials, signaling to me this isn’t a builder’s grade quick flip house.

It’s actually someone wealthy who lives here—which gives me hope this building will be an easy climb.

It is.

In one minute, I’m already up. I didn’t even have to take off my gloves. I’m careful to be light on my feet, despite the two bedrooms set up downstairs. I know how far footsteps can echo.

Sneaking up to the edge of the roof, I have a clear view of the Dall household. It brings back memories. Climbing her roof and scaring her senseless in her room. It was comically evil, and bittersweet, because I loved watching her sleep. I’m her underworld protector… And this is my final task.

I lean over the ledge and pull out the scope, then touch one finger to the silent radio button.

“In position,” I say.

“ Copy, ” Patrick’s voice comes through. “ Package delivered three minutes ago. No sign of Ferraro or Nikolaj. ”

“Copy.”

I sit patiently thinking of Quinn, whom I’m leaving behind. Will she forget me in a year’s time? She’s young and has a whole life to live.

Have you forgotten about your late family?

The answer is very clearly no , which gives me hope I’ll be remembered.

Ridiculous that I’m worrying about legacy now of all times.

The Valentinos will remember me for what I am—underground special forces of a different generation.

I grew up in the mob’s golden years, but not for my family.

The Valentinos had to scratch and scrounge for their food.

Now it’s their golden years when I’m retired.

I huff.

Always seem to be off-rhythm with fate. Timing was only my specialty on jobs, not in life.

What will it be like in the end? Will my vision go dark?

Will I see my daughter again in the afterlife?

That idea kept me sane for the longest time…

but being so close to the end, I’m not sure. Especially for a man like me.

I’ve killed by the dozen. Even if my code is intact, the big boss up there might not see it that way. The other mobsters used to joke— when we die, hell is where the party will be, so don’t worry, boys .

I laugh at that. More than half of them bit the dust in gruesome ways. Maybe I’ll be playing poker alongside them with flames scorching my backside soon.

“ Eyes up, Arosso, ” Patrick’s voice comes through. “ As predicted, both Nikolaj and Ferraro are walking quickly to a car. Brace for activity. ”

“Copy.”

My heartrate slows as I’ve trained it to.

Given the neighborhood is used to police presence surrounding the Dall house, having the cops show up shouldn’t cause a panic.

I made a tactical wager that the crooked cops would be called here first. In case any nosey eyes wander, they’ll think it’s official police business.

I reach into the duffel bag and run through the photos John Scar dropped off to me. Black and white pictures of the officers I’m looking for. My guess is they’ll be pulling up in unmarked cars mostly. Let’s see.

Vvvvssh!

An engine roars down the block with silent siren lights spinning.

That’s my cue.

Attaching the scope to the rifle, I drape a white cloth over me that’s the exact color of the snowy roof ledge.

The car screeches to a stop—double-parked—as a man with a scar on his cheek gets out, cigarette lit. That’s one of them. And I have a perfect shot to the head. If I was an amateur, I’d take it. But he’s just the bait. Need seven more to show up before I make any moves.

His partner exits the car next.

Six more.

They’re inspecting the house carefully since no lights are on. They’re wondering whether they’ve been duped.

Another unmarked car pulls on the side of the house—across the street from my stage home. Three more expected goons reveal themselves. It’s like gathering all the spies in one location. I’m doing the Jersey PD a massive service, here.

All for you, Quinn.

The last car shows up. Marked. I can’t get an ID on them because their hats are pulled low in their police uniforms. Only one is in a trench coat as a detective. Assuming it’s them, that accounts for all eight.

Ferraro and Nikolaj show up last in a tinted-out limo as the cops surround the house. Nikolaj gives the order, and two cops kick down the door. Ferraro and Nikolaj draw their weapons and head in after the two cops, as two others watch their backs, stepping in from behind them.

That leaves four previously identified crooks on duty outside. My first targets.

Shthroomp! Shtrhoomp!

Two down.

Before they can even react, I switch my aim to the next.

Shrthroomp!

My headshots are perfection from this distance.

Shrthroom!

All four are down before they could reach their phones. And now it’s time to sprint.

I stuff the rifle back into the duffle, zip it as quietly as possible before throwing it over my back, then I’m off.

Hopping over the side of the roof used to pull less at my joints, but it’s like riding a bike.

I’m not as cautious making noise now that the first part of the job’s over.

It’s more about speed. Finding grooves in the bricks is the key.

When I’m about eight feet from the ground, I let go and rush for the door.

These police uniforms are terribly uncomfortable—no wonder the pigs are slow as hell.

I sprint straight in, ignoring the bodies because this process will be quick. It’s the middle of the night, so hopefully no one goes walking their dog.

“ Pozitsiya scobodna? ” I call to the first room, asking if the room is clear. I’m taking a risk, because I’m not sure if their protocol is to speak in Russian.

“ Da. Why are you— ”

Shloompt!

Another silenced shot from my pistol goes off just as I confirm the cop as one of the crooked eight. In the next room, I hear Nikolaj lecturing Ferraro that this better not be a waste of his time.

“ Someone is fucking with us, and I don’t like it, ” Nikolaj’s muffled voice comes through.

I sneak closer with a pistol out, knowing there are three more Russians and one Ferraro I have to kill before I give myself up to Niko.

“ There’s no sign of the pig. No offense.

” Nikolaj laughs at Ferraro. “ I meant the other pig. Oh, don’t give me that look.

It might be true for you soon, Mister Ferraro.

A pig for slaughter, as the expression goes.

” He struts around angrily. “ This is your last stop if we don’t find this fucker.

Either him or his daughter—Yuri’s orders, hm? ”

Nikolaj moves deeper into the house, giving me an opportunity to tuck myself into one of the darker corners.

“ I told you I’ll find him, Niko, ” Ferraro grumbles.

“ You also said you wouldn’t play any more at my casinos, Ferraro. ”

I can hear Nikolaj slapping Ferraro’s fat face lightly.

“ If he isn’t here, you’re going to have another twenty-four hours to produce, otherwise, we’re going to start collecting fingers to satisfy our boss, eh? ”

The cop bodyguards are dead silent as Nikolaj dolls out his threats. And once they decide to turn around, the last few months begin to flash through my eyes. The little dates, the shed, the wine… even those stupid fuzzy socks I can’t stand… it’s all telling me I’m making a huge mistake.

Well, it’s either this, or kill her father. Either way I’d lose her.

So, the noble route it is.

My heart calms even in the face of death. After this next move, I’ll be executed.

Thmp. Thmp. Thmp.

Footsteps come my way.

“Shut the lights behind you. We don’t need any nosey neighbors looking inside,” Niko says.

My heart stills almost to a stop. I am nothing.

A ghost.

When the last cop goes by, I catch his face and fire.

Shrthrmmp!

The body slumps as the next one turns. I shoot again.

Nikolaj goes for his gun, but I take the last cop in my custody and hold firm.

“Weapons down.” I step forward into the light.

“ You. ” Nikolaj dumps his gun, knowing I have the jump. “The one from the card game. I knew something was off about you. Tell me, what do you want?”

“An exchange,” I say, then shift the gun to Ferraro when I see him slowly reaching. “ You. I think you’ve done enough.”

He freezes in place. “What do you know about me? Who the fuck are you?”

I notice the hostage I’m holding is shaking like a leaf. One glance at him and I realize he’s not one of the bratva. He’s one of those fucking rookies Ferraro would keep on watch for Quinn.

“I’m the one speaking,” I say. “Remove the gun on your belt, and the one on your ankle… slowly.” Once he does what he’s told, I kick the guns away and turn to Nikolaj.

“You say your boss, Yuri, wants revenge. Well, what if I gave him the one who murdered his cousin twenty-three years ago, and the one who botched the high-box operation for you. Would that suffice? Seems like that fat prick just needs his fix.”

Nikolaj takes a step closer, and I straighten my arm, telling him I’ll pull the trigger.

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about,” he says. “You sound like a madman.”

“Ask him,” I say.

The truth is… I’m panicking. The whole point was to rid the PD of bratva, but the one I’m holding… fuck … I’m one short. This kid probably just got dragged into Ferraro’s antics. Maybe he wants in. But he’s not a part of the operation.

“I—I remember you,” Rodney says in my grasp.

I clock him with the bottom of my pistol to shut him up.

“Oh, you do, do you?” Ferraro says.

Something’s off. Why don’t either of them seem panicked?

Then I realize why when the cool cylinder of a silenced gun pokes at my back. “Party’s over, fucker.”