Page 44 of Corrupted Heir (Mafia Kings: Corrupted 1)

“I’ve texted the shooter’s mug shot and address to you. Any chance you want backup?”

“No, not this time.”

***

I pulled up in front of the decrepit four-story walk-up. The brick was old and crumbling in spots. Faded and broken shingles littered the ground. This place was a dump.

Two children in ragged clothes played on a makeshift hopscotch a few yards away, and a man sat on the steps of the building next door, smoking a joint. He had an old-fashioned boom box next to him, and it blared out garbled noise that I was fairly certain was supposed to be music.

Perfetto. The garbled noise would help cover up the sound of gunfire—even from the fourth floor.

I waited until I was inside the squalid building to pull out my Sig then climbed the old linoleum-covered stairs. In the hallway, more music came through the walls from one of the apartments, but as I neared my destination, the sound grew quieter.

There was no noise coming from inside De Carlo’s apartment. It was possible he wasn’t home.

I turned the handle slowly, expecting to find it locked, but it wasn’t.Coglione.

The door opened without a squeak, like it wanted its occupant to suffer for his own stupidity. Inside, the scent of gone bad food and filth overwhelmed my nostrils, so potent it stung my eyes. A narrow garbage-littered hallway led to a tiny kitchen on the left and to a living room on the right.

No sounds came from the kitchen, so I crept toward it to make sure it was clear. The room was empty, though it was a wonder the room hadn’t been overrun by vermin. Dirty dishes in the sink and on the counters. Old food spilled on the floor.

I strode back toward the living room, and there he was. The back of De Carlo’s ugly head. He sat on a brown threadbare sofa with his arms sprawled across the back of it and a beer in one hand. Since the sofa was faced the other way, he couldn’t see me. Not yet.

No weapons sat on the chipped and stained coffee table in front of him, but the gun was here somewhere. The gun he’d fired inside Fallon’s apartment. The gun he would have used to kill her had I not gotten her out of there.

It would have been so easy to put a bullet in the back of the fucker’s greasy head. One shot to his brain stem. But I wanted answers, and having to draw this out didn’t bother me in the slightest.

I raised my Sig and fired a bullet right through De Carlo’s hand. The bottle he held exploded as he roared and then shot to his feet. He gripped his hand tight to his chest while his glazed eyes met mine.

“What the fuck?” Recognition dawned in his eyes as the crimson pooled in his chest.

“I was about to ask you the same question. Have a seat,” I said then fired a shot into his kneecap.

He crumpled to the ground as he screamed. With one hand and one leg out of commission, he scrambled back awkwardly.

“It was nothing personal, man. I gotta work, same as you.”

I scoffed. “If you’d come at me, De Carlo, I would have paid you the same respect. I would have put a bullet in your head, and the score would have been settled. But I saw the bullets you fired. Very messy. Very… indiscriminate, wouldn’t you say?”

He looked at me like he couldn’t figure out what I was talking about. Maybe I needed to use smaller words.

“You shot up that apartment like you didn’t care what you hit, but I cared, so now we have a problem.”

His eyes widened. “The girl? I didn’t shoot her. I swear, no one was there.”

I chuckled. “Of course, no one was there, but that isn’t the point. You didn’t know she wasn’t there until you’d finished shooting up her apartment. Correct?”

He pressed his lips together. His whole face had turned red with pain, and his hands shook against his chest. “So, you’re just gonna kill me slow?”

“I could,” I said with a shrug. I wasn’t squeamish. Slow and painful didn’t bother me. “Or you can give me a name, and I’ll make it quick.”

There wasn’t a third option.

He was inching his way toward the TV stand against the wall. The scratched doors were crooked, but I had a feeling there was a perfectly functional weapon stashed inside.

I raised my gun and made a fresh hole through his shoulder.

More screams. More blood. “What do you want?”

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