34. Angelo

Chapter 34

Angelo

I sound like a fucking chronic smoker and my head's pounding so hard it's like an unbalanced washing machine is trying to rip itself to pieces inside my skull. I check the chamber of my revolver and flip it closed as Seamus pulls up and parks outside of Tommy's condo.

"Maybe you should stay here," he says, frowning at me as he checks his own gun. Four more black SUVs spread out around the property, a mixture of Quinn and Bianco soldiers behind the wheels led by my brother Davide.

"Fuck that." I give him a hard look. He's probably right, but I'd rather die than stay behind.

"Seriously, you look ghastly. That goddamn line across your throat. It's like your head's about to fall off."

"And fuck you."

He laughs and shrugs. "Whatever, bro. Your call." He seems amused as he waits for the sign from Davide to get moving. "I hear the girlfriend saved your life."

I lean back into my seat, impatient and taking the chance to rest. Skinny tried to cut my fucking head off with some piano wire just two hours ago and I'm still recovering. Claudia's back in the oasis where she's safe, and Elena tried to convince me not to head back out, but there was no way in hell I'd let anyone else raid Tommy's place without me.

"Brained a guy with the edge of a drink tray." Apparently, she hit him a few times. There were bits of hair and blood all on the edge. That made me proud as hell of her.

"Damn, you found a good one. Does she have a sister?"

I sigh and close my eyes. "You have no idea how complicated that is." Then I look at him. "But seriously, if there's a woman in that condo, she has to be kept safe. Spread the word, alright?"

"You got it." Seamus fires off a few texts to the other teams. "You fucking Biancos. I don't know why you didn't just kill this Tommy fella from the start."

"I had it under control."

His eyebrows raise. "Yeah, looks that way."

I grunt and ignore him. Hindsight and all that. It's easy to say we should've taken Tommy down the second we realized he was working behind our backs, but there was good reason to wait.

He and the Serbians are up to something, and if we kill him, we may never find out what it was.

Doesn't matter now. Tommy crossed the line when he sent Skinny after me, and now it's time to finish this.

I get a few minutes to gather myself. I'm far from my best, but when the text comes and it's time to move in, I keep up with Seamus. We hustle into the condo building and the doorman is gently encouraged to lie on the ground with his hands on his head. Davide finds the concierge key to Tommy's place and we take the elevators up to his floor.

My brother's in the lead with his right-hand Emilio, both of them big and wearing body armor. I'm next with Seamus right behind me. We reach the door and though Davide's a big bastard and could probably knock it down with a spirited cough, he quietly unlocks it instead.

He opens it and I step past Emilio, my gun raised as I clear the first room.

The entryway leads to a big, modern living area next to an open kitchen. It's spacious and clean, immaculately clean, with only a few magazines on the coffee table, all of them gossip rags. The kitchen looks like it's never used. A pack of cigarettes on an end table. Nice paintings hang on the walls. I recognize Degas, Van Gogh. There must be a few million worth of art in the foyer alone.

But it's quiet. The men spill inside and start clearing the rooms. Tommy's nowhere, not upstairs, not in the gym, not on the balcony.

Frustration bubbles through my guts. I start flipping through shit in Tommy's bedroom. We take a laptop, a few phones, and find some cash wrapped up in a scarf in his closet.

"Nothing," Davide grunts at me. "He got another place?"

"Not that I know about." I'm tempted to punch the fucking wall. "Search the place. Grab anything useful."

"Will do." Davide squeezes my shoulder. "It'll be okay, brother. We'll find him."

I nod and walk away, too pissed to stick around. Seamus looks like he wants to follow, but a look lets him know that I'm not in the mood for company. I take the elevator down alone and storm back to the car, already exhausted and on edge, and all I want is to find Tommy so I can put a bullet in his fucking head.

But he knew we'd be coming for him. The second Skinny didn't come back out from that alley, he knew. I'm guessing he's holed up with Serena somewhere, maybe under the protection of his Serbian business partners, or maybe already on the run to another country. Davide's right—we'll find him. But I'm impatient, and I want him now .

There's a tap at the window. I look over, about to tell whoever it is to fuck off, and find the barrel of a gun pointing at my face.

Roc's standing at the other end, frowning at me. He gestures with his free hand: open up.

I unlock the doors. Slowly, he climbs into the back seat, the gun aimed at me the whole time.

"How'd you know I'd be here?" I ask, watching him in the rearview.

"Tommy had me keeping an eye on the place. I saw you guys roll up, and I was about to leave when you came back out alone. I figured I'd take the opportunity."

Fuck. Stupid. I should've been more careful. I'm not thinking clearly—my head's still cloudy from nearly getting choked to death.

"What do you want? Ready to finally put the knife in my back like you tried five years ago?"

His jaw flexes. "Tommy made promises. You don't understand."

"I took care of all of you. I paid you well, got you good jobs, made sure you all rose through the ranks like I did. I was a good fucking boss."

"Yeah, maybe, you were pretty good, but you're still a Bianco. Tommy, he's like us, he's from nothing. I can trust a guy like that. But you? No offense, Angelo, but we were always miles apart."

I stare at him and resist the urge to rage. We were fucking friends. No, we were brothers-in-arms. We killed together, fought together, bled together. I led them through hell and back, and I made sure they got rich. They were drowning in jewelry, pussy, and respect.

And they tried to take me out because I was born rich.

Fuck them.

"I don't know what Tommy told you, but he was wrong. You guys made the wrong call."

He laughs softly. "No shit. After it all went down, exactly one of us reaped the rewards, and it sure as fuck wasn't me."

"Then why are you still working for him?"

"Because what other option did I have? You came storming back into my life without so much as a conversation and I didn't have a choice. You think I wanted to be anywhere near fucking Tommy? The piece of shit had my balls in a vice because of what we did."

I move slowly and keep my hands low. My gun's in my waistband, and he can't see as I grip it tightly. "Why don't you just kill me, Roc? Since I'm a rich prick and I'm not worth shit. End it now."

"I want to make a deal." He says it through his teeth like it's hurting him. "Tommy's going to get everyone killed. I'm done with that prick."

"Now you're seeing the light, Roc? You regret your mistakes?"

"Fuck you. I'm trying to save my ass. You want Tommy? I can tell you where he is, but first I want some assurances. After this conversation, I'm leaving Chicago. I'm taking a bus somewhere far from here, and I want you to swear you won't follow me."

I look at him in the rearview and hold his gaze. This bastard never gave me this chance, not back in the day. "Tell me where Tommy is and you're as good as gone."

Roc nods once. His gun lowers slowly. "He's got a safehouse up north. It's this old butcher's shop on Argyle Street near North Mayfair Park."

"Nice neighborhood up there."

"Yeah, well, Tommy's been moving up in the world."

"How'd he do it?" I turn slightly, taking a risk. Roc stares at me and his gun doesn't move. The barrel's pointed at the floor.

He seems thin and old with dark bags under his eyes. I bet the fucker's been sweating hard since I came back into his life. I bet he's been thinking a lot about Vito and Paulie. I hope he's been suffering.

"Girls. Always been girls. Back in the day it was immigrants from abroad, just a bunch of poor fucking Eastern Bloc chicks selling themselves in crack dens. Then he got Cage and turned it up to eleven."

I let that sink in. Tommy's trafficking women. And suddenly it all clicks together.

Cage's extra money. And the third fucking floor. "He's selling the girls," I say to myself. "That fucking prick."

"Cage was a real windfall for good ol' Tommy." Roc sounds bitter. He must be pretty pissed that he got cut out of the deal. "Tripled their business overnight and only grew from there. You know how it is. Rich guys want to get their dick wet with inexperienced girls and don't give a shit if they're sex slaves."

"Don't act morally superior."

Roc shrugs and looks out the window. "Fuck Tommy. Fuck this life. I just want out, alright? You got what you need. Now it's done."

"Yeah, Roc. It's done."

He reaches for the door handle.

I raise my gun and shoot him in the face. The sound is loud, deafening. My ears ring as I pull the trigger a second time, blowing his jaw clean off. His corpse slumps sideways and his blood trickles down the back window. It clots on the leather seats.

I said he's as good as gone. And now he's fucking gone.

I lower the gun and close my eyes.

Now I owe Seamus a new car.

My headache's pounding like a motherfucker and all I want to do is go home and take a bath with Claudia.