Thirty.
An hour.
I couldn’t take it any longer and tried the door. He hadn’t locked me in. I padded to the top of the stairs, listening for any sounds. There was nothing. No music. No conversation. Nothing. My nerves still raw, I walked down the stairs, slinking around the doorways in my search for him. He was nowhere. I finally heard a sound coming from the great room.
When I reached the door, I knew what I was hearing but I had to see for myself.
Slumped onto the couch, a brandy snifter in his hand, Michael sat stoically, staring at the television. His choice? The very movie I’d been watching.
And even from where I stood, I could swear there were tears in his eyes.
Michael
Murder.
That was exactly what was on my mind. I should say I hated to admit it, but that would be a damn lie. Maybe vengeance was the correct term.
Retaliation.
The need was clawing its way to the surface.
“I found out where Saltori is holing up,” Grinder said quietly as we stood outside Dominick’s house.
I merely glanced in his direction.
“He’s got a place in San Diego,” Grinder continued.
“Of course he does.”
“I got a couple soldiers heading down that way. What do you want me to do?”
“Sit on him. I want to know every activity, every visitor. When he shits, I want to know about it. When he goes out to eat, I want to know what he puts in his fat belly.”
My capo opened his eyes wide. The man needed to get used to seeing me like this. “You don’t want to go through with the… elimination?”
“Not yet. I’ve received new information that I need to check out. Feds are likely involved. We need to be cautious.” Even controlling the local police department, I couldn’t stop the actions of federal agents. This is a juicy case for them.
He nodded several times. “Just so you know, some of the business is slipping. They’re getting soft. One shipment was hijacked, my guess is by some of Saltori’s men. He’s concentrating on the drugs.”
The most profitable. I whipped my head around, ready to exact revenge. The asshole wasn’t going to fuck with me. “What. Happened?”
Grinder held up his hands. “I know what you’re thinking. It happened last night. One of the bastards involved was captured, but too much of a whiner. Didn’t say anything before he croaked.”
Inhaling, I could almost smell the stench of death on the man. We didn’t need some punk gunned down because he wouldn’t spill his guts. “And the streets?”
Shrugging, he looked uncomfortable. “Chatter. Bunch of shit.”
I lifted my sunglasses, staring him directly in the eyes. “Meaning?”
He continued to hesitate until he saw something in my eyes. That moment of ‘don’t fuck with me.’ “A lot of the boys don’t think you’re the right man for the job. That’s why they’re slacking off.”
I bristled initially then chuckled darkly. I had to regain some level of respect. “To be expected. I’ll take care of that. Do you trust the man watching Francesca?”
“Rocco will do a good job. One of our… your best men, boss.”
I shook my head, planting my sunglasses back in position. “Then Rocco needs to make certain he does.” I could tell my comment made Grinder uncomfortable. He wasn’t used to my brusque demeanor.
I’d shut off that part of me almost five years before, but as usual, my father was right. You couldn’t hide your true personality. I was and always would be a killer.
“Absolutely, boss.”
“Let’s go.” I had some other business to take care of, including figuring out who the person was in the picture Shane had presented. There was a partial license plate from another vehicle, also grainy in the photo but it should get me started in making an identification. I had the distinct feeling that the person holding the gun held volumes of information.
I’d insisted on driving myself to the meeting, forcing Grinder and Tony to ride in the SUV, asserting my command and taking Grinder’s Charger. I needed to feel the power beneath me, the rumble of the Hemi engine keeping my mind on edge. The two phone calls had been disturbing, one more so than the other.
The police had threatened Grinder with sudden incarceration given his ‘many’ infractions if he didn’t tell them where I was hiding. Their terms. Mine was lying in wait. He’d caved almost instantly, a fact I would deal with later. Fortunately, Shane had been able to step in. His assignment to my father’s case came with perks, including whatever information he received. My only hope was that the FBI would work closely with the local cops, allowing me to hear additional details.
At least Francesca had kept her word, remaining in the shadows while Shane was present. Seeing the photograph was damaging, more so that I cared to admit.
We had a new player, which meant that if Louis Saltori was involved, he’d hired an unknown assassin. I had to be cautious, more so than ever, which could mean pulling back on the hit. I was raw and angry, ready for a fight.
The second phone call had been devastating. John Paul was dead. My initial reaction was an executed contract on his life, but the man had determined his own demise, walking out into the ocean just before sunset after slinking away from his soldiers. There was some sick irony in the concept, although my guess was that he knew he would either die a horrible death by the cancer or be dragged into hell by Saltori’s men. Either way, a shitty manner of death.
I needed to share the news with my father, even if he remained in a drug-induced coma. He had a right to know and certainly not learn the devastating information about John Paul’s death from some shitty reporter or upstart police officer.
I felt some sense of pride in the manner that John Paul had taken his own life, although I could barely accept what had occurred. He’d been one of the strongest people I knew. Sadly, there was no one around me left that I cared about.
With the exception of Francesca.