Page 15 of Primo DeLuca

Chapter Six

Primo

Regretfully, I stepped into the crowd, fighting a cringe with each uncaring bump that landed against me. My eyes were pinned on Nevah's retreating back while she approached the front door, thinking she was getting away from me.

My shoulders lifted high from an irritating sigh at the feel of my phone vibrating. I answered it despite the rowdy buzz of the crowd.

“You have eyes on you. Two, following,” Brizio said. The ear piece I wore allowed his voice to come across above the noise.

“Head towards the bathroom. Trust me, they’ll be stupid enough to follow you. I’ll meet you there,” he stated before clicking off.

“Fuck,” I muttered, cursing this whole screwed up night. Nevah was the only bright spark to break through the darkness surrounding me, and she was darting through the front door in a mad dash to be rid of the likes of me.

Movement out of the corner of my right eye, gave me a glimpse at one of the men, dressed in a blazer and jeans in an attempt to blend in with the mixture of styles the club goers wore. If this was another attempt on my life, the notion of my hit being contracted to multiple killers was quickly becoming a fact.

My brow lifted in thought, wondering how much the contract was worth. How valuable was the price of my life to the requestor?

Thankfully, I had already put a plan in place for the new lady in my life. She still had no idea the situation she had easily stepped into would not be so easy to step away from.

As for the situation that was about to go down in the smaller of the two men’s restrooms, I was fully capable and willing to dance with the types of devils that came looking for my kind of trouble. They didn’t call me Hades for nothing. I would be in like company with whoever came for me.

The men blended into the crowd and although I didn’t see them, I felt their eyes on me and sensed them closing the distance between us.

A devilish grin quirked my lips. There was no doubt in my mind that Brizio was already lurking in some dark corner thinking about the many ways he could manipulate death and unleash destruction.

Leading with my shoulder, I shoved the bathroom door open and stepped into the windowless space. Once the door closed behind me, the vibrating volume from the club was instantly shut out, plunging me into stilted silence. The area was larger than two standard bedrooms, more than enough room to set a few things straight.

The fact that Brizio had the area sound and bulletproofed spoke for how often we’d had to handle some impromptu business.

At the sink, I pretended to wash my hands when the first man entered. This one wore a dark suit with expensive dress shoes. Based on his features, he was Italian. He glanced at me and dipped his head in greeting before stepping inside one of the four stalls without locking the door.

Ten seconds later, the second man opened the bathroom door, but he didn’t enter right away. He turned and scanned the hallway for anyone who may have had eyes on him. Once he turned inside, he reached behind him and locked the door.

The man and his friend couldn't have been more obvious about their intentions. The one at the door took steps to approach me but snapped around when Brizio jerked the door open and stepped inside. I hadn’t heard when the door was unlocked and apparently, neither did the man.

Brizio turned the lock, and this time the metal gave off an ominous click that sounded throughout the space and made the man in front of me tense.

My gun was aimed at the head of the one who thought it was a good time to step out of the stall. Brizio aimed at the one who was angling to have a conversation with me at the sink.

“If you want to be recognized at your funerals, I suggest you toss those guns and tell us who the hell you work for,” I commanded, my tone dripping enough acid to dissolve the air around us.

This was most definitely not The Malizioso and therefore had to be one of the families thinking they would catch us slipping in our own establishment.

The men complied with my command, removing their fingers from their triggers and lifting their weapons in surrender. Two guns clinked to the floor, one skittered over the slippery porcelain tile and stopped under the sink and the other slid under a stall away from its owner.

“Look, we don’t want any trouble,” Mr. Stall announced.

“Well it’s too fucking late. You got it,” Brizio stated, his tone hostile, edgy.

“We are just supposed to keep an eye on you and report it back to this number.” Mr. Stall aimed a finger at his jacket indicating he needed to reach inside. I nodded, giving him permission to proceed with his request.

A few seconds later, he produced a burner phone. Instead of tossing it to me, the man lunged forward with a superman punch that missed my face by an inch. The friend stupidly went at Brizio who rearranged his face when he palmed his gun to slap him with it.

The one fighting me made a quick upward attempt to launch another punch at my face, but I knocked it away hard enough to throw him off balance. With a quick spin, I gave my elbow the momentum it needed to disconnect his jawbone from his face. A sickening crunch sounded, ricocheting throughout the bathroom before he fell to the floor and howled like a wounded animal. The toe of my shoe caught the other side of his head, knocking that howl right out of his mouth.

“I’m quicker than I look, dumb ass,” I muttered.

The man was so disoriented, he clawed at his jaw before he slapped a palm against it, attempting to hold his face together. His body teetered from the blows, his eyes heavy, glazed, and unfocused. His mind was halfway in another dimension while I stood over him, ready to knock his thoughts clean out of his brain.

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