Chapter 2- Rez

I just need one more idiot to completely spiral. 

It's minutes past ten p.m., cold out, and I should be heading home since I've been up for close to twenty-four hours, smoking morons in Sicily, yet I'm here, because as soon as my jet landed in New York, I was met with bad news. Not for me though, but the dumbass I'm about to ambush outside these gates.

While his fortune cookie reads that his end is near, his defense in the next few minutes will decide whether 'near' means tonight or next week... But he's definitely not surviving past this month. And while he can run, his options are very limited. There is hardly anywhere along the Pacific or Mediterranean he will ever feel safe from me. 

Yet he brought this on himself. Most people just try to not mess with me. But Death calls his name. 

I puff out smoke from my mouth as I lean back against the hood of my car, my rage burning just underneath my silence as I wait patiently- something I don't usually do, not when my hands want someone's blood this badly. 

Eventually, my endurance snaps and I turn to Monty, my Underboss."Tell Gallo Boiardi that if he doesn't get the fuck out in the next five minutes, I'm going to blow his house up to smithereens."

Three minutes later, the man is outside the gates, flanked by five guards. I give his sacrificial lambs a once over before meeting his eyes.

"Senator…" My voice is as cold as the evening air that whips at us. "It's so unfortunate."

"What are you doing at my house, Alvarez?" 

"You don't seem to realize how much trouble you're in," I say, stuffing my cigarette and folding my arms across my chest. "Tell me, did you think I wouldn't find out that you screwed my family over or did you think I wouldn't find out so soon?"

"I did nothing."

The balls on this bastard.

"You're a dead man," I tell him. "I hope you've written your will." 

While Gallo's fear peaks, he hides it with false bravado. "You don't get to threaten me, Cosa Nostra scum, when all I did was fulfill my own end of the bargain." 

"Did you? Let me remind you that you had a simple task which you failed at abysmally," I return. "You were supposed to grant us transport access without police interference-"

"I did-"

"Then why the mind boggling fuck is a million dollars worth of my goods in police custody?" I snap, my deathly calm making way for simmering rage.

"I have no idea how the police found out."

"I'm sure I do. You know, the only part of this that truly surprises me is that you collaborated with my rivals. I'd long suspected that you were a bastard and a spineless worm. This particular deal was a test. And obviously, you failed."

"Look, I'll admit that what happened to your merchandise is sad-"

"Sad?" The idea amuses me. "Maybe for you. Your family will miss you greatly. But what is really tragic is that they will think you died a good man, not as a sleazy doublecrosser."

"Now those threats are just uncalled for," Gallo says. "And I'd first be damned if I tolerate them. While I could get you arrested, I'm just going to ask you to leave, else my guards will be forced to remove you." For further emphasis, he takes a meaningful look at said men, like they could really save him from me if I wanted otherwise. Like I currently do. 

He doesn't seem to understand that even the devil stands back to watch my work when I start. My anger always dances on the edge of extreme ruthlessness, and deciding to boot him out of this world is even mercy compared to all the trauma-inducing ways I could have had him tortured. Trauma for the onlooker, because there's no way he's surviving it, much less talking to a therapist. He should be happy that in comparison, his death will be swift- mostly because I'm so furious at him the thought that he's still breathing pisses me the fuck off.

"All my enemies are dead, Gallo. And now you're one of them." 

"I won't take any more of this," he cries out in exaggerated outrage. "Leave now and I won't be forced to ask my guards to hand your ass to you." 

Fucking bold, I'll grant him that. "Which of them?" 

Almost instantly, the men surrounding him begin to drop one by one, short, truncated grunts leaving their mouths just before they hit the ground, courtesy of the snipers I have on the roof opposite his house.

And Gallo? He looks like he's going to have a panic attack, a seizure or a combination of both as his gaze goes to his so-called protectors, lying sprawled on the floor. 

"They never stood a chance," I tell him without sympathy. "Neither do you."

"Please-"

I can hardly believe my ears. "You're fucking begging?"

"I'm sorry. I don't know what pushed me to renege on our agreement. It must be the devil-"

Of course it is. Especially when it has to do with something that is entirely your fault. Gallo really knows all the most potent ways to incense me. He's gone at this point. 

"Well when you two meet, make sure to give him a piece of your mind," I say, pulling my gun out and levelling it at him. 

A loud shriek rolls out of his mouth instantly and it gratifies me. Now, could I have just signalled the snipers up on the roof to shoot him down and let him out of his misery at once? Yes. But building up his dread gives me greater satisfaction.

"Please, Alvarez. Don't do this. Don't do this!"

He's definitely singing a different tune than he was before, but it's a little late for common-sense now.

"I'll make sure to send my condolences to the family." I empty three consecutive shots into his head and a scream rises. 

But it's not from him... He's dead, and the sound is feminine- the kind that haunts you long after it has stopped echoing in your head. When I turn in the direction it's from, I see a woman standing by the edge of the connecting alley, eyes wide.

Corporate-type, five-foot-five or seven, jet-black hair, blue pools that you can drown in, with the kind of curves that would drive any man insane. And the fear on her face? Fucking addictive. She's pale with the type of shock that parts her lips in the exact kind of 'O' that makes you imagine everything you can put in there. Bring in the scream from earlier and she's buried me. 

But before I can do anything, she bolts, bounding along the asphalt on her high heels.

She's definitely a keeper. Naturally, I want to see her exert herself in other ways while wearing those four-inch stilettos. 

"A witness," Monty says beside me, a frown pulling his lips. 

"Find out where she lives."