by Sam Mariano
“Why?” Willow asks, her voice small. “How could you…?”
“He knew that coming after his children would be enough to ignite a war. He thought he could kill everyone off, make it look like Mateo just covered his tracks, and then no one would’ve been the wiser. Problem is, Salvatore was smart enough to bring it to us. To get all the facts before engaging a war. The facts weren’t on Antonio’s side.”
“But why me?” she asks, shaking her head again. “Why me?”
Shrugging apologetically, I tell her, “I can’t say with absolute certainty, but if I had to guess, he wanted one of his kids hit, just… not one he was close to, in case it all went bad.”
With a little guffaw of disbelief, she says, “So, I was just the most expendable option.”
“Do you have proof?” Ethan asks, features set in a thunderous scowl. “Do you have evidence that this is true?”
“I do. I have a whole folder. I’ll show it to you, if you need it. I wouldn’t make up something this heinous, believe me.”
“That son of a bitch,” Ethan says, shaking his head. He still looks surprised, but he’s clearly putting it together in his mind. Then, to Willow, he says, “This is why he came to my house. It wasn’t to defend you at all, it was to cover his own fucking ass.”
Ethan is angry, but Willow looks a little traumatized. I guess I understand. Hearing that your own father cares so little for you that he used you as a pawn in the name of business, that he had you kidnapped, terrified, abused—that he ruined your life to further his own agenda? That can’t be easy to swallow.
“I need to be alone,” Willow says.
She turns to leave, and I want to let her, I really do, but I remind her, “Willow… I really need you to call him.”
“No, you don’t,” Ethan says, shaking his head. Turning to Willow, he touches her shoulder and tells her, “Go ahead.”
“Ethan,” I say, meeting his gaze with an unspoken warning.
He meets mine, his blue eyes burning with vengeance. “You don’t need her to call him. You need me.”
Chapter Twenty Three
“He’ll show up if you call?” I ask, a bit skeptically.
Willow glances between us, then decides this isn’t worth an argument and heads down the hall, closing herself inside what I assume is their bedroom.
Ethan nods, patting the pocket of his jeans, feeling for his phone. “Yeah, he’ll show up for me.” Turning on his heel, he heads back to the living room.
I glance down the hall where Willow went—I don’t suspect she was faking her reaction, but it crosses my mind anyway. In her position, she could’ve retreated to the bedroom to retrieve a weapon of her own, or to call ahead and warn her piece of shit father that I’m coming for him.
Since I don’t think I have to worry about the former, I ask about the latter. “Would she call to warn him?”
Ethan shakes his head, grabbing his cell phone off the coffee table. “No. Not now. That asshole put us both through hell. I’d be thoroughly pissed off at her if she did something like that now, and she knows that.”
“You sure?”
“Yep.”
“I still think Willow’s the better bet. I know he won’t bring a heavy guard to meet her, I don’t know what he’ll bring to meet you.”
“I meet him unguarded all the time,” Ethan grumbles.
This is news. Eyebrows rising, I ask, “Why?”
Glancing back toward the bedroom, he says, “Let’s go outside.”
I figure he means the hall, but Ethan doesn’t stop until we make it to his car. He nods to the passenger side for me to get in, and though I’m not at all used to being a passenger, I do.
“Why hasn’t he killed me?” Ethan suddenly asks, staring out his windshield.
I shrug. “Salvatore said it was because you’re with Willow. You weren’t looking into it anymore and enough time’s passed now, he probably figured it wasn’t a major threat. If she ever left you, he probably would’ve, just to tie up the loose end.”
“That’s fucking awesome,” he remarks.
“Isn’t it?”
Ethan nods. “So, how do we do this? Do you have more people coming, or what?”
I shake my head. “No. I’m gonna take him out myself.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Ethan says. “What if he doesn’t show up alone? I mean, I do meet him unguarded all the time, but that’s when he’s calling the meeting. If I’m calling it, even for a good reason, he might bring a couple people.” Before I can say anything, he says, “And if Willow called, he wouldn’t have come. Not right now, not with everything that’s going on. He’s in hiding right now. He’s not coming out unless there’s something on the line—and no, he obviously wouldn’t care if Willow was on the line.”
“So what’s on the line?”
Ethan sighs, glancing back at the entrance to his apartment. “Leave that to me. I know what to tell him to get him to show up. I’ve been doing work for Salvatore for a while now. It started out legit, but… he started asking me to do more, and I needed the money.” Glancing back at me, he adds, “Willow doesn’t know.”
“She wouldn’t approve?”
He shakes his head. “She wouldn’t want me putting myself at risk.”
That’s understandable. Kind of hard for me to relate to, since all the women I’m around on a daily basis accept our lifestyle as normal, but I can see why outsiders would object.
“Well, what happens next isn’t your responsibility. You make the call, I’ll take care of the rest,” I tell him.
“The hell it isn’t. If I set this up and you fail, he’s gonna know what I did. Then he will kill me. You’ve got Mateo Morelli’s army at your disposal—why do this alone?”
“Because I don’t know who I can fucking trust anymore, Ethan. We’ve had some bumps in the road lately and I’d rather show up to this showdown not having to worry that my own fucking people are going to turn on me.”
“Oh.”
“I also don’t want him to see me coming. I bring an army, that’s not exactly subtle, now, is it?”
“Well… he usually brings Little John with him wherever he goes, but Little John went down with the Morelli attempt.” Glancing at me, as if this is news, he says, “You don’t shoot at a boss and live to tell the story.”
I meet his gaze dryly. “Thank you for that lesson in my own lifestyle, Ethan; I had no idea.”
“You’re gonna get yourself killed.”
“Not if he shows up without a guard.”
Ethan pulls his phone out, sighing, and stares at it for a moment. He’s full of reluctance, but oddly it seems less like he’s worried about crossing his father-in-law and more about me. Which, considering I’ve never met this man in my life, surprises me. Clearly I’m not accustomed to being around people who are still in touch with their humanity.
“What if we switch?”
Uncomprehending, I frown. “Switch what?”
“Assuming he brings a guard, and assuming you could take care of them quietly… what if I meet with Antonio? What if you take out the guards… and I shoot him?”
“You ever killed a man before?”
He shakes his head. “Nope.”
“This isn’t a good try-out.”
“I know what’s on the line,” he states, looking at me. “I won’t change my mind.”
“It’s not as easy as you might think,” I tell him. “Especially not the first time. Evil bastard or not, it’s not a fucking video game. You’re not prepared.”
“Well, maybe there’s no guard, then I won’t have to. Then you can take care of it. All I know is, we both have better chances if mine is the face Antonio sees.”
I go over his plan in my head, and I kinda like it. I don’t know if I can depend on him to pull the trigger when it comes down to it, but depending on the layout, this might be doable. Too many variables to be sure. I don’t know where we’re meeting, I don’t know if his guard will be dir
ectly near him or just keeping watch—there are a lot of fucking variables. It’s got better odds than mine though, assuming he has soldiers with him.
“All right,” I agree with a nod. “Let’s do it.”
Ethan gets out of the car to make the call, which I’m not terribly comfortable with. Could be he’s setting me up, but I don’t get that feeling from his vibe or his language. He specifically said he works for Salvatore, not Antonio—and Salvatore doesn’t have his own crew. He’s an underboss, same as Mateo technically should’ve been before Matt died, but we aren’t bound by the same rules of leadership as Salvatore’s family. If Ethan did work for Salvatore, he was technically doing work for Antonio, but he didn’t want to claim that because he doesn’t like the old man. You don’t naturally put that kind of distance between yourself and someone unless there’s a whole lot of dislike there.
I also just don’t think Ethan’s very deceptive. I had different expectations of the guy coming in—he doesn’t look so good on paper. But having met him, he’s actually pretty okay.
Opening the car door, he drops back into his seat, actually looking a little excited. “All right, he’s gonna meet me.”
“You’re sure?” I ask, catching his gaze.
“Yep.”
I feel like I’ve been trying to kill this bastard half my life. It hasn’t been that long, but it feels like forever. It feels a little surreal to consider it might actually be coming to a close.
“Well, what did he say? Where are we meeting him? Does he expect just you?”
“Not just me. Me and two others, but all harmless. He won’t be on guard. I even made up a diversion so he’d send some guys elsewhere.”
“An obvious diversion?” I ask sharply.
Shaking his head, he turns the key in the ignition. “It went with my story.” Then, meeting my gaze, he says, “Relax, Adrian; this isn’t my first rodeo, either.”
---
We’re halfway to Castellanos when Mateo calls me.
I think about not answering, but Mateo hates being ignored.
“Yeah?” I answer, determined to at least keep it short.
“Adrian.” His tone is terse, and I instantly go on alert. “How far are you from the bakery?”
“The bakery?” I ask, eyebrows rising. “I’m nowhere near it. Why?”
“Fuck,” he mutters. “All right. Where are you? I need you to meet me somewhere.”
“I can’t meet you anywhere right now,” I tell him. “I’ve got my hands full with something else. Can you call Alec instead?”
“No, I don’t want Alec,” he says, more to himself than me. “All right, fine. I’ll take care of it myself.”
“You sure? I can probably call around and get you someone.”
“Nah, I got it.” Then, without so much as a goodbye, he’s gone.
I stare at my phone for a minute, thinking that probably requires my attention… but it can’t be more important than this. I consider calling him back to get more information, but I need to focus on my own thing. I’ll call him back as soon as we’re done.
Ethan glances over at me briefly before returning his gaze to the road. “Everything okay?”
“Hope so,” I reply, shaking my head. “I’ll be glad when all this shit is over, I’ll tell you that.”
“Yeah, I bet,” he says, nodding in understanding. “There’s gotta be a lot of excitement, doing what you do.”
“I don’t know if excitement’s the word I’d use,” I return, dryly.
“Thankfully I don’t typically do this kind of shit. I deal in information, not violence.”
“I much prefer to deal in information. If Salvatore doesn’t make the right decision and we have to wipe out his whole family, you should come work for Mateo.”
Laughing shortly, Ethan says, “Oh yeah, I’ll get right on that.”
I shrug. “He pays well.”
“He’s a paranoid sociopath.”
“You get used to it.”
Finally, we arrive. I’m a little puzzled to find the meeting place is a house—just a regular house in a suburban neighborhood.
Scowling over at Ethan, I ask, “You’re not dumb enough to set me up, are you?”
“Nope,” he says easily. “Just slightly smarter than that.”
“Because I can’t begin to explain to you the wrath Mateo would rain down upon you if you are. And you have a pretty girlfriend, so I’d think about that.”
Sliding me a distinct look of displeasure, he says, “Fiancée.”
“I’m never going to care.”
“This is…” He pauses, looking at the garage door and sighing. “This is my old house, and this is where he’s meeting us. I’m not setting you up, Adrian. Antonio Castellanos tied my 8-year-old daughter to a chair in this house—threatened to kill her. Had an asshole with a gun to her head. I can murder this piece of shit and sleep like a baby tonight, I promise you that.”
Well, shit.
“I guess he wasn’t invited to the wedding, huh?” I murmur.
Ethan rolls his eyes and pushes open his car door.
Once we’re inside, Ethan glances around the entryway and sighs. I don’t know if he’s thinking about the shit we’re about to do, or some sentimental shit, but after a minute he finally says, “I’ll be right back.”
“Where are you going?”
“Upstairs. I need to get a gun.” He shows me his hands, indicating they’re empty. “Didn’t bring one. And I don’t have a silencer.”
“I have an extra in my car, but we brought yours.”
He shakes his head, heading for the stairs. “Don’t need it. I can get one upstairs.”
“Nothing stupid, Ethan.”
“I fucking get it, Adrian.”
I smile a little as he heads upstairs. I do want to keep an eye on him, since this is all unfamiliar to me and I’m not exactly on comfortable ground, but first I take a walk around the house, scoping out potential spots to hide, checking vulnerabilities, windows—all the usual bullshit. I’m a little confused when I get to the kitchen and see a pink vase of white hydrangeas on the table. Ethan bringing me here to meet Castellanos gave me the impression that this house is unoccupied, and the fact that he knows we’re about to dirty it up with blood and bullet holes doesn’t jive with anything else.
Ethan comes back down a couple minutes later, to my relief. I actually like the guy, but I’m still not inclined to trust him—not until Antonio’s dead.
“Does someone live here?” I ask, as soon as I see him.
“My ex-wife used to, but she and the kids moved in with her boyfriend,” he says, rolling his eyes.
“There are flowers on the table. You trying to sell the place?”
Instead of answering me, Ethan frowns, peering out the window. “Fuck, he’s here. All right, if he’s alone, we’re good. If not, at least one of his people will probably do a walk-through. I’d go to the kitchen, since they’ll probably walk in there first.”
I’m not used to being directed and I don’t really like it, but there’s not time to argue. I head to the kitchen, but I wish I would’ve had more time to prepare. I can’t look out the window and watch him come in, ‘cause chances are they’ll be looking.
It feels like the sound of the door slamming shut resonates through the whole damn house. My pulse kicks up, and being in the kitchen when everything’s going down in the living room is not my style. I don’t even know how long to wait. If no one sweeps the kitchen in the next minute or so, I’m going to creep back toward the entryway and scope out the scene.
Waiting is hard. It’s the longest two minute wait ever. And no one comes in.
I give up waiting.
He’s either alone, with an idiot, or Ethan’s double-crossing me and I’m in deep shit anyway. Whatever the case may be, it’s time to find out.
When I approach the entryway, I see Ethan and Antonio in the living room, standing in front of a couch. I creep along the wall so I can move closer, to the a
rea beside the stairs. I won’t be able to see from there, but I need to wait another minute to make sure he didn’t bring someone who may have gone upstairs first.
But then I hear the pop and the heavy thud. My heartbeat kicks up and I move forward, hoping that wasn’t Ethan who just dropped.
It wasn’t.
Ethan is doubled over, hands braced on his thighs, and Antonio Castellanos is on the floor, bleeding. Not dead though—he moves.
I don’t waste another second. Hustling over to the old man’s side, I meet his gaze, point my gun at his head, and fire.
“Sorry,” Ethan mutters.
I step away from the old man’s corpse to give Ethan a jovial pat on the back. “Don’t be. You’re basically my second best friend right now.”
He laughs a little at that. “I’m not sure that’s company I want to be in.”
“You okay?” I ask, seriously.
“I feel a little… vomity.”
Nodding, I assure him, “You always do the first time. Hey, look, you didn’t even have to kill him. I did that.”
“I really wanted to give him an awesome monologue first, let him know I was onto his bullshit, but I was too afraid he’d shoot first,” Ethan says, smiling as he rights himself.
“Monologues are overrated,” I tell him. “He’s dead, that’s what matters.”
“I know, but throwing your own daughter into sex slavery to try to take down a nemesis? He should’ve died knowing she knew that.”
“Now it’s over and she can move on,” I tell him.
Ethan sighs, pulling his cell phone out of his pocket and sending a text. “I’m gonna have to take her to the French Riviera to get her mind off things.”
Are we all going on victory vacations?
Actually, the French Riviera sounds really good. And Elise loves when I speak French.
“Hey, good call,” I tell him.
He looks at me questioningly, but I don’t explain. “Well, I’ll get someone in here to clean this up. But now that we’ve taken care of this, there’s one other matter to attend to. You need to take me to Salvatore. I don’t want to hurt him, I just want to talk.”
