Both of us laughed, and her eyes sort of laughed with her. Everything lit up. Even the atmosphere around us became weightless.
“I can’t even remember everything he said that night since a lot of it didn’t make sense at all. But before he left, he did say something which he had never said before. Something he’s never said again since.”
“What did he say?”
She stared at the glass of wine in front of her. “That he missed our mom.”
“He doesn’t speak about it much?”
“Only when he’s angry or uses her as an excuse to be a dick.” She leaned back in her seat. “But never in a way that taps into how he feels about her…no longer being with us.”
I glanced down at her hand, her fingers twirling the stem of her glass. “I lost both my parents when I was young. Car accident.” Why was I talking about myself? “Went to live with my uncle at Fort Lewis.”
“That’s how you became a marine?”
“There wasn’t anything else I wanted to do or anything I was good at. Turns out I had hidden talents that proved quite useful to the marines.”
“What kind of talents?”
I sat back, wiping my fingers with the napkin, pursing my lips. I took a deep breath. “I’m a pretty good shot.”
“Oh.” Her eyes narrowed, intrigued. “Were you like a sniper or something?”
“Or something.” I inhaled again. Saying it out loud would be too damn nostalgic, like the words had the power to thrust me back in time—a time I didn’t want to relive ever again. I’d rather burn an eternity in hell than go back to the past.
There was a slight breeze. Dark clouds hung in the air, hiding the pinks and yellows of sunset. There was something ominous in the air. It was like the weather could smell the death, the chaos.
I had been lying in this position for hours, scouting the area, checking every corner, every crack, every possible hiding spot. There was no movement, no sign of life. It was like the entire place had been lost and forgotten—the perfect spot for a deal like this to go down undetected and protected by tall, vacant buildings.
We’ve been on this guy’s ass for so fucking long. Federico Esposito was notorious for his hand in human trafficking—thousands of women and children passing through his dirty fucking fingers. Edoardo Esposito's father was head of the Sicilian mafia known for his dealings with illegal firearms. He was considered the big fish until his oldest son’s dealings came to light.
It took years of meticulous planning to bring us to this moment. We formed alliances with other criminals and put some of our guys’ lives at risk by letting them infiltrate the world’s darkest trade so we could have this one shot at catching this guy. One shot. That’s all we had. If anything had to go wrong today, we could kiss catching Federico goodbye for good. Not to mention the huge fucking target everyone who worked on this operation would have on their backs. Especially our guys on the ground—our allies.
Speaking of which.
The loud rumble of engines broke through the silence, echoing all around us. A sea of black came riding down the street, the echo of metal vibrating off the walls and broken windows. It gave me fucking chills watching the Harley Davidsons pull up as one giant force to be reckoned with. At the front was their president, a huge-ass motherfucker who parked his hog, followed by the VP and sergeant-at-arms flanking him. They were like a goddamn army of their own. The American Street Kings, led by their president, a man who went by the name Granite. It was rumored that he had some business arrangement with the police commissioner, and it was through those ties we were able to reach out and form an alliance of sorts. We had been working closely with them ever since this operation had been put in motion. They might have been hardcore motherfuckers who got their hands dirty with their own illegal dealings, but when it came to women and children, they would bring the heavy artillery and not think twice of coating their hands in blood.
“Man, that never gets old.” Johnson was my spotter, the man who had my back while I kept my eyes on the target. “I think I might have been an American Street King in my previous life.”
I snorted. “Highly doubtful.”
“How long have we been working on this operation?”
“Plus, minus two years.”
“And in those two years, you haven’t once told me how you ended up working for the FBI?”
“Short answer, I joined the marines and somehow caught the attention of a recruiter. The rest is history.”
“You know,” Johnson started, “I think I would have preferred the longer version.”
“Yeah, well, that’s all you’re getting.”
I adjusted the scope of my rifle, assessing the surroundings as Granite was joined by his enforcer—Dutch—the man who protected Granite with his life.
These men might be criminals, but I had a tremendous amount of respect for them after working with them for so long.
A black Bentley came around the corner, followed by two SUVs. My breathing was calm, and I settled into a steady position, watching them from a broken window on the top floor.