“What about Dante? Will Shep go after him?”
Brandon slipped a black tee over his head. I chastised myself over the twinge of disappointment I felt at him being covered. “He was going to. I told him he can have any of the others, but that son of a bitch is mine.”
“What?” I blurted. “Why would you say that?” The last thing I wanted was Brandon doing something so dangerous. Besides, it sounded like Shep could handle it, even if he already had a daunting task on his plate.
“You’re right. I’m sorry. He’s yours, really. It’s only fair you should decide what to do with Dante since he was determined to make your life hell.”
“Whoa, back up a minute.” I held my palms up. “That’s not what I meant. I thought we were hiding from Dante, not going after him.”
He snorted. “What gave you that idea? I don’t hide from my problems; I face them head-on. So do you if you haven’t noticed.”
“Wait. What exactly are you proposing?”
“As far as I see it, we have two options. One, we negotiate a truce with Dante. I expect he’d agree to our terms because he now understands how dangerous Shep and I are. And in a way, Shep did him a solid by killing Franky. He’s promoted Dante to boss years ahead of schedule. Dante will continue in his uncle’s footsteps. He might even be more of a tyrant than Franky. Who knows? But a truce would mean minimal risk to us. Everyone who’s alive now walks away and continues with their life. Not a very satisfying outcome, if you ask me. Or two”—his eyes lit up with a devious smile—“which is my personal favorite. We put Dante six feet under so he can’t hurt an innocent person again. With that, Shep’s extensive hit list, and the damage we inflicted at Vixens, it would spell the end of the Wolf Street Mafia once and for all.”
I chewed on a fingernail. “Option two sounds dangerous.”
“It is. Dante takes his personal security seriously. He hires private mercenaries who are well trained and well paid. And Maxim is never far. We’ll have to deal with him, too.”
“You’re suggesting we wait until they’re in public and kill them?”
“That’s one way. He can’t keep hiding in his mansion forever or he’ll look weak. He’ll need to show his face so he can start convincing Franky’s supporters to convert their loyalty to him. Even though his security is top-notch, I’ll still find a way to get him. I’m a decent sniper shot. Or”—he scratched the back of his head—“we could lay siege to his compound. With a team of guys, we could take it.”
He spoke about taking out Dante as if talking about taking out the trash. I supposed for someone who’d spent most of their working life eliminating bad guys, this was everyday stuff. And even though I’d killed people last night, I wasn’t seeking an encore performance.
“Hold up, Captain America. There’s no need to start a civil war. And besides, you said Dante’s security personnel are paid guards, not part of his organization. They don’t deserve to die for doing their job.”
He cocked his head. “I guess. But they’re well aware of who they work for.”
I shifted on my feet. “And what happens if we fail? Or Dante finds out about our plan?”
“I don’t think I need to tell you what would happen if we’re caught. You saw what happened to Shep and Cameron.” He took a step toward me. “But we won’t screw up, Sage. There’s too much at stake.”
There was a lot to think about. So many potential outcomes of our decision.
I ran a hand through my hair. “It’s too early for this conversation. I can’t even think without caffeine.”
“You don’t need to decide right away.”
“All right. I’m going to take a shower. Think it over in there.”
“Good idea. Take as much time as you need.” Brandon nodded and returned to his laptop.
I grabbed a change of clothes and headed for the bathroom.
As the room filled with steam, I stripped and stepped under the hot spray. Using the hotel’s mini bottle of shampoo, I massaged the jasmine-scented lather into my scalp. I considered Brandon’s options carefully. Our decision would change lives, for better or worse.
If we negotiated a truce with Dante, our immediate problems were solved. I could finish my studies, Lettie would remain safe, and we could put this complete nightmare behind us. But Dante would rebuild and use that power as the Mafia always had: to rule with fear and cruelty. Striking a deal felt like winning the battle but losing the war. And could we even trust Dante to hold up his end of a truce bargain? Plus, I still had so much fight left in me. For Kieran, for myself, and for anyone the Mafia had murdered, manipulated, or bullied.
With the shoot-out at the club, we’d already inflicted serious damage to the Wolf Street Mob, and now we had the chance to finish them for good. All it would take was one well-placed long-distance shot from a sniper rifle. And with Brandon’s skills, I believed he could do it.
Except, when I considered Brandon’s two options, neither of their outcomes satisfied me.
I dried off, combed my hair, and dressed in dark blue jeans and an off-one-shoulder cream sweater I’d bought in the hotel’s boutique.
After the drive-by, I’d wanted to punish those responsible for Kieran’s death. Since then, my mission had become so much more. My own trauma had opened my eyes to the true horrors occurring in this city every day because of the Mafia’s wretched quest for power and money. Not only did I want to stop them, but I also wanted them held accountable for their actions. Healing was important for survivors. I’d had a sucky time of it and still had a long way to go. If bringing the perpetrators to justice helped me and others move on with our lives, then I wanted that, too.
A plan formed in my mind, but I’d never be able to pull it off on my own. There was only one person who could help make it happen.
Brandon.