“You don’t seem thrilled,” he observes out loud.
I shrug. “You know me. I don’t like politics.”
Men bickering like children, trying to out-ass each other by any means necessary, all under the guise of noble intentions. What’s there to like?
“This is war,” Orso tells me.
I shake my head. “Don’t like them, either.”
Men sent to kill and die for another man’s dream. Where’s the fun in that?
Orso frowns. “Would it kill you to like something?”
“I like hunting,” I say. “And I like you.”
Truth, not ass kissing. I would never work for someone I don’t like, regardless of whether or not my mother’s in love with him. Orso may be a crime boss but he’s an honorable man. He looks after his own, gives people what they are due, and keeps his word. No bullshit. I respect that.
Orso grins. “And here’s what I’d like. One of the paintings, a Rembrandt, is at the home of Damien Esposito. Take it back. Give the stronzo my regards.”
In other words, kill the asshole. Of course. Why else would he summon a killer like me?
“Got it,” I answer.
Orso glances at Leo. “Take him with you.”
Leo grins. I frown.
No fucking way.
“I’m an assassin, not a babysitter,” I remind the crime boss.
Leo snorts. “Who are you calling a baby?”
“You,” I tell him straight.
Leo’s blue eyes narrow. “I’ll be seventeen soon.”
The number means squat. I’ve seen twelve-year-olds more adult than him.
“Do you know how to hold a gun?” I ask him.
“I know how to shoot one,” he answers cockily.
Maybe, but I bet he couldn’t shoot a bird down if he tried, much less blow a man’s brains out.
“Andrea taught me,” he adds.
I glance at the blond, pale-skinned bodyguard. He never mentioned that. Then again, he’s probably the best person here at keeping secrets.
I look at Leo. Well, if that’s true, he might have a chance of actually putting a bullet into someone. It doesn’t mean he’s ready, though.
I turn to Orso. “He’s not ready.”
“I was younger when I first tagged along in an operation,” Orso answers.
And so was I when I first took someone’s life, but we both know Leo wasn’t brought up the same way.
“He will never be ready if we don’t let him try,” Orso adds.
“He doesn’t have to,” I point out.
“I want to,” Leo argues.
I look at him. This is why he’s still a child.
“And what does Monica think of this?” I ask him curiously.
“What Mama thinks doesn’t matter,” Leo answers. “Like I said, I’m almost seventeen.”
Which means she doesn’t approve. Neither do I.
“That doesn’t mean you can just throw her away,” I tell Leo.
He meets my gaze squarely. “Oh, like you did?”
I draw in a breath. Cheeky brat. If he wasn’t telling the truth, I’d have already sent him flying across the room. But he is. I did turn my back on my mother. Well, I didn’t mean to. When I left the house, I thought she and the piece of shit I had to call my father were both dead. I thought he had killed her, so I killed him and then ran. Apparently, my mother survived. It took her nearly two years, but she made a full recovery and moved on, although I guess she never stopped looking for me.
“Enough.” Orso snaps a finger. “Cain, you will take Leo with you.”
Fuck.
“He will be armed for his own protection, but his job is mainly to bring the Rembrandt back. Once you retrieve it, hand it over to him and he will bring it to me.”
“So he waits in the car?” I ask.
The thought makes me feel a little better.
“No,” Leo protests.
“This isn’t a trip to the zoo,” I tell him. “Damian Esposito’s house will be heavily guarded.”
“All the more reason for me to go in with you,” Leo says.
I nearly laugh.
“You will stay in the car,” Orso tells him. “Wait for Cain.”
Leo throws his hands up. “Che cavolo!”
“Language,” Orso scolds him. “And by that, I mean not another word. You will stay in the car and do exactly as Cain says.”
Leo opens his mouth in an attempt to say something but then purses his lips. His jaw clenches as his face falls. His shoulders droop. His hands curl into fists.
Now he looks like a boy who’s just been told he can’t play outside in the rain. Poor kid.
I don’t feel any pity for him, though, nor do I get any satisfaction from seeing him this way. I still wish he didn’t have to come at all, but Orso has already made up his mind.
“That’s all,” he tells me. “Now, leave so I can talk to the others.”
I nod. Leo turns and walks away first, stomping across the room with his fists in his pockets. I follow.
“Leo,” I hear my mother call him as soon as I step outside the library.
He ignores her, continuing with his stomping down the hall.