Page 2 of Sin & Secrets

“I’ll cut him off at the next intersection,” Martino barks.

I jam the stock into my shoulder to keep it steady as Martino maneuvers us into position. For a single beat, I allow myself to breathe out.

“INCOMING ON YOUR LEFT!”

Teo’s warning couldn’t have come a moment too soon. I turn in time to see the headlights tearing toward the intersection and jump on instinct. I hit the unforgiving tarmac in a roll just as a spray of bullets pounds into the car door.

A third bike swerves to avoid T-boning the Mercedes, clearing it by less than an inch.

I gasp into the throbbing pain in my side as I force myself to stand.

“Teo. Tell Martino to take out the second bike,” I order as I pat myself down, cursing at the tear in the side of my new suit. “I’ll deal with this.”

The Mercedes takes off to give chase to the second rider as I haul up the assault rifle I had cradled against the impact with the floor. This time, I’m squaring off against my opponent on foot.

Finally recovered from the near collision, the third bike turns back to me just as I begin my approach. A spray of bullets blows up dirt from the tarmac a few yards in front of me. I check my gun as I continue to walk forward.

The bike accelerates. The bullets are hitting the ground only a few feet away. Now only inches.

I dive at the last possible second, and I can almost feel the instrument of my death slicing across my skin.

The bike flies past, unable to react in time.

Zip.

My shot goes straight through the rider’s skull. He slumps off his bike as it comes to a stuttering stop a few yards away.

“Nicely done,” Teo says in my ear.

I grimace slightly, finally taking note of the seared flesh beneath my ripped suit. Thankfully, nothing seems to be broken, but the friction burn will take an annoying amount of time to heal.

Wincing, I remind myself that it would have been far worse had Teo not warned me. Not for the first time, I thank whatever gods are still out there on my side for bringing Teo Vitale into my life.

“It’s not like Alessandro to mess up,” I say as I approach the downed Super Duke KTM 1290. I let out an impressed whistlethat my enemies would invest so much in taking out little old me.

“Permission to give him an intolerable amount of shit for this, boss?”

“Granted.” It would be more effective than whatever punishment I could devise anyway. “I didn’t realize Alessandro couldn’t count to fucking three.”

But despite his failings today, the self-proclaimed “stealth master” had found other ways to ensure he made himself invaluable to the Guild. I’m unsure if I want to know how he secured the intel for this job.

I kick the body of the dead goon away from the bike—Cartel, if the markings on his neck are any indicator. Clearly, the Tunnel Eaters didn’t want us getting our hands on their lead informant.

“I’m heading to intercept the target alone,” I announce as I mount the bike, not waiting for Teo to try to talk me out of it. It roars to life beneath me within seconds, and I take off toward the rendezvous point.

It’s only a few minutes away, but every second that passes only makes the window of opportunity that much smaller. Even as I pull up to the pier, I can see the telltale outline of a speedboat on the horizon, careening toward my target.

The man on the pier watches his incoming escape vessel fervently. He either doesn’t hear my approach, or chooses not to turn around as I close in.

“Apologies. Traffic in Brooklyn is awful this time of the night.”

My target whirls around in alarm, and my heart sinks.

Carmine Bellini.

We knew it had to be someone from my father’s inner circle, but Bellini had never seemed like the feeding-intel-to-the-enemy type. He was a wallflower at best, and a cowering idiot at worst. But I suppose that’s accountants for you.

Perhaps since my father’s “retirement”, he thought leadership had gone soft enough for him to get away with playing his own games.

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