Chapter 32

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

TRISTAN

W hen it’s time for the meet, I sit in the front window of the electronics store across the street from the Trentini Family’s bar. It’s tucked away in a dimly lit alley, the kind of place you wouldn’t notice unless you knew it was there. The neon sign flickers, casting an eerie, intermittent glow that barely cuts through the darkness.

Two hulking figures guard the entrance. Their faces are shadowed, hands resting casually near their hips where I know guns are holstered. The heavy, reinforced door has a small, grated window that slides open for a quick once-over before anyone is let inside.

The windows are tinted, hiding whatever’s going on inside, but the muffled sounds of music and laughter seep out. A few luxury cars are parked out front, glistening under the streetlights, their presence starkly contrasting the rundown surroundings. There’s a sense of controlled chaos about the place. You can feel the power and danger emanating, a warning to those thinking of causing trouble.

Soon, men begin to emerge, heading for their cars. None of them are Trentini higher-ups, which means, most likely, they’re all still in the bar.

I text Raffie, wondering if he’s betrayed me, wondering if I even give a damn. Whatever happens now, I have to go in there. I have to end these bastards. All the stuff they’ve done—trafficking, pushing drugs on poor neighborhoods, the murders, the pain—has to stop.

Are they there?

A moment later, he responds, Yeah, the don, the consig. Hell, even the lady cop is there. Are you sure about this?

It’s too late for that. You better make yourself scarce or sell me out. Now’s your chance.

I’m not an idiot. I’m getting the hell out of here.

A few minutes later, I see he’s telling the truth. A wiry, jittery figure emerges, walking down the alleyway from the two burly guards. I grit my teeth, getting myself mentally prepared.

What choice do I have left? I tried to do it the right way, the honorable way.

I tried to be a good man, the person Maya deserves. I tried to walk the straight and narrow, but sometimes, the world won’t let a man do the right thing. Sometimes, to make things good, you have to do bad. That’s how this all started with the dog home.

Heading for the door, I feel the pressure of my gun pushing against my lower back. I turn off my feelings. I switch off any thoughts about Maya. I forget about any notion I might be a good man.

One of the guards turns to me as I approach. Even if I’m just as big as he is, something in his body language tells me he thinks he’s going to be able to brush my ass off. He raises his hand, smirking, and the other doesn’t even bother facing me.

Sure, that might have something to do with how I walk like I’m one drink away from being hospitalized. “ Whatsortaplaceisthisthen?” I spit it out all as one word.

“Listen, guy,” the man says, taking a long drag from his cigarette. “Just get on your way, eh? You don’t want no problems here. Trust me.”

“Wait a second…” The second man slowly turns, his eyes narrowing. “Do I know you?”

I move far more fluidly than these men anticipated. That’s what saves me and has saved me so many times. Hesitation gets people killed. Punching one man in the nose with my gun, I leap at the other almost at the same time. The result is one of them gasping as he clutches his bloody nose and the other staring at me in disbelief as I drive him against the wall.

“Don’t make a fucking noise.” I take a step back, switching my pistol’s aim between them. “We’re going to do this slow. People will die tonight, but play it smart, and it doesn’t have to be you.” Reaching into my back pocket, I take out some flexible snap-on handcuffs. “Put these on. Now.”

The men do as told in a way that would make their bosses ashamed. Or maybe it’s the devil they see in me. Or they’re just smart enough to know their bosses don’t give a damn about them anyway.

“Put them on each other. Hands behind backs.”

“This your kink?” one grunts.

I adjust my aim, and that gets the job done. When they’re both cuffed, I reach into my other pocket and take out the syringes.

“If I were you,” I growl, “ I’d walk as far from this place as you can before it kicks in. Or I can shoot you here. Your choice.”

They tremble, but they don’t move. They know there’s no use fighting. I’m doing this for the city. For my dogs. For Maya, my dream.

I walk down the hallway toward the room at the back. Music comes from the main bar, but the door at the end is slightly open, showing a sliver of light. As I get closer, the door suddenly opens.

My instincts snap me into place. Moving quickly, I press myself against the wall of a nearby corridor, my back to it, watching as Officer Ramirez walks away. She’s got her shoulders back, looks pissed. I’m glad she’s leaving. I don’t kill women.

Once she’s gone, I move toward the room. Voices come from behind the now half-open door.

“…any damn thing we want, and there’s nothing they’re going to do about it!”

“You’re right, Tony. Anything.”

“No kids? Ha. If I want to create an army of fucking toys for the rich and powerful, I will.”

“You’re right, Tony. Just maybe go easy on that talk in front of the men. Some of them have families.”

“Are you talking back to me now?”

“No. No, sir.”

“Good.”

When I kick the door open, they look so weak, so pathetic. Shame twists as I consider how I contributed to these men’s riches. I helped them justify it and excuse the evil.

“Who the fuck a?—”

My bullet cuts through the don’s, Tony’s, face, and then I hit the consigliere twice in the chest. Voices start shouting behind me. I spin, drop to one knee, and fire two more shots that hit their mark. The man hits the floor with blood spurting from his neck and chest.

“Everyone out!” I roar and hear them scurrying away, desperate to find someplace to hide.

They act tough. They act like they know what it means to fight and bleed. But I saw my friends die. I heard my dog’s final howl. Do they seriously think they ever stood a goddamn chance?

“Puh-please,” the don whispers from behind me.

I spin, staring down in shock. He’s got a bullet in his face, but somehow, he’s forming these words.

“Ooh-rah,” I grunt, putting a bullet in the center of his head, my ears ringing.

Now, it’s time to burn this place to the ground.

“Stop,” somebody yells from the end of the hallway.

I turn to find… Oh, shit, maybe fate is real. It’s Carlo, the bastard who drugged my Maya, my dream. He’s aiming his pistol at me as he tries to look like he’s ready for this. But I’ve been prepared far longer—ready to kill him the moment he dosed Maya.

“No,” I grunt.

“Are you nuts?” he yells. “I’ll blow y?—”

He fires a shot that misses me by mere inches, as I drop to my stomach. I hit the floor hard, but it gives me the angle and the time. Emptying my extended magazine, I fill the bastard with bullets.