Page 38 of Tortured Hearts
“Forgive is a strong word. I’d say they’re more likely tooverlookthem.” He shifts forward, his stare as sharp as his tone. “We don’t have time to think this through. Either way, Authority bullets are going to fly. You decide whether to fire them or take them.”
Damn it, he’s right. No matter what I do, I’m going to end up at the wrong end of the Authority’s gun. At least by taking the fight to the source, I control my fate.
Go big or go to Hell.
“I assume you have a trusted contactin New York?”
He arches an eyebrow. “What do you think?”
I think we’re about to walk into the lion’s den wearing fucking meat suits.
“What’s the lead time for an Authority sit-down?”
“Usually, a couple of days, but Marcello expedited things by calling his meeting. All four bosses are in New York.”
How generous. I’ll have to remember to thank him before killing him.
“Speaking of your boss,” I say, watching for any shift in composure. Anton may be a temporary ally, but he’s still my father’s underboss. “I assume an unscheduled trip to Staten Island won’t go over well.”
“Leave Marcello to me.”
“Meaning?”
He bristles. “Meaning leave him to me.”
He’s lucky I need him. This cocky attitude is several levels above tolerable.
“Fuck it. Make the call.” I finish my wine, my face stretching into a slow smile. “Looks like we’re headed to New York.”
Chapter Thirteen
GIANNI
Staten Island, New York
There’s a strained silence inside the Maserati as I pull beside a run-down apartment building in a “grab-your-mace” type of neighborhood in Staten Island. “Are you sure this is the right address?”
Anton slams a full cartridge of bullets into his gun. “You, of all people, should know not to buy into a façade.”
That hits a little too close to home.
Securing my gun, I open the door and step out of the car. Anton follows without argument. The moment we enter the building, we’re greeted by the Authority’s bouncer, a huge man with the personality of curdled milk.
Anton dips his chin. “Sergio.”
“Anton,” the guard acknowledges back. I glance between them, close to putting a bullet in both when Hell’s gatekeeper nods at our waists. “Hand over the weapons, and they’ll bereturned when you’re dismissed.”
I think the fuck not.
“I’m not walking in there without?—”
“Give him the gun, Gianni.” Anton’s movements are slow and robotic as he unclips his holster and places his Magnum in the guard’s waiting hand.
I gape at him. “Have you lost your mind?”
“I’m in Staten Island about to have an unsanctioned meeting with the Authority. What doyouthink?” he snaps. “Now, hurry. Your girl doesn’t have time for this.”
While walking into a room full of mafia bosses unarmed goes against every instinct, he’s right. So I force myself to hand over my gun to the dickshit in front of me, who tucks it into his jacket and motions us forward. Sixty steps later, he disappears through a battered white door, leaving the two of us standing weaponless on the other side.
