Page 19 of His Violent Vow

“And yet it’s fine for you to hire killers to do your dirty work,” Angelo reminded him.

Tomas stopped smiling. His face started to turn red. Tomas Barbaro always had a short temper. That never changed.

“Do you think this is a joke, Angelo?” Tomas thundered.“That we’re playing some kind of game?”

“Not at all. I’m just wondering what you think you’ll get out of this meeting,” Angelo answered.

They stared at each other for a few moments, silently sizing up their opponents.

“A truce,” Tomas finally said.

He extracted a soiled handkerchief from the front pocket of his suit jacket and used it dab the sweat on his forehead. A nervous tick. Tomas could never hide his tells well. That was why Tomas sucked so bad at poker.

“Go on,” Angelo said, pretending to look interested. He didn’t care if Tomas bought his compliant act or not. This meeting could only end in one way.

“It was my lieutenants who pushed me into hiring those assassins in the first place. Bad advice, by the way, and you have no idea how much I regret my decision. There’s always been bad blood between me and the Marino Familia. That can’t be erased,” Tomas explained.

A poor explanation, Angelo thought. No decent Don would admit they allowed their lieutenants—their underlings—to make decisions on their behalf. Tomas had just painted himself as a weak man.

“And what do you expect me to do? Step aside while you murder my wife’s family?” Angelo asked mildly.

“Exactly, fighting a war on both fronts is just a waste of men and resources for me and you,” Tomas said.

Angelo narrowed his eyes. Did Tomas really think he’d agree to such an arrangement, that he’d betray a new ally at the drop of a hat? Unlike Tomas, Angelo still possessed some shred of honor, certain guidelines he lived by, despite being the Don of his own familia.

“What do I get in return, if I agree to this madness?” Angelo asked. He’d let Tomas believe he was considering this crazy proposal for a moment. Angelo wanted to see what Tomas would do and how he’d react.

Tomas blinked, then licked his lips.“What do you want?”

“You owe me reparations,” Angelo reminded him.“You tried to kill me, after all.”

“Very well, Angelo. You may name your price after I deal with the Aldo and Marino Familias. Of course, I won’t lay a single hand on your bride. She’s yours to keep,” Tomas said. Tomas rose to his feet, Angelo did the same.“Shake on it?”

Tomas stuck out his hand. Angelo walked around the table. He had no intention of shaking it. From the corner of his eye, he spotted one of Tomas’s goons, his hand clutching a gun inside his jacket.

This meeting was nothing more than a farce from the beginning, a desperate ploy on Tomas’s part. If the hitman he hired failed, then Tomas probably decided he’d finish the job himself. The only way to accomplish that task was to do it up close and personal.

Angelo tightened his hand on Tomas’s fingers until it hurt. Tomas groaned, opened his mouth, probably to yell at his subordinate, not to shoot Angelo just yet. Tomas valued his safety and his life, after all. Tomas’s subordinate didn’t listen.

Tomas’s overexcited would-be assassin whipped his gun out. The first bullet caught Tomas in the arm. The second hit Angelo squarely in the chest. Angelo released Tomas’s hand and dropped to the ground. Pressure dug into his chest, right where his heart was. Angelo gritted his teeth but remained where he was, unmoving. Gunfire erupted as both his men and Tomas’s men fired at each other. The other Don dropped next to where Angelo was, exactly where Angelo wanted him.

“How do you like being dead, you traitorous fucker?” Tomas said to Angelo. Angelo closed his hand around his revolver. Tomas’s eyes widened as Angelo stopped playing dead. Angelo smiled at him, gun pointed at Tomas’s head.

“How’s this possible? You were shot in the chest, unless you were wearing—” Tomas couldn’t finish his sentence. He screamed when Angelo shot him in the left leg, then his gut. Tomas hit the dirty linoleum. Curses flew from his lips.

“Help me! I’m shot,” Tomas kept yelling but none of his men came to his aid.

Tomas looked wildly around him, panicked. Angelo saw what he did, most of his underlings were dead or writhing in pain on the floor. The rest, Angelo assumed, probably fled at the first sign of genuine trouble.

“Your first mistake was thinking I’d play right into your hands,” Angelo said, rising to his feet. He flicked away the dust from his suit.

“Mercy!” Tomas cried out.

“No,” Angelo simply said. He assessed the room. Two of his men had been shot, but their injuries weren’t critical. Leo appeared by his side.

“Seal this area until this bastard draws his very last breath. The pizzeria owner?” Angelo asked.

“Accepted our bribe with thanks. I also promised him we’ll return his restaurant the way we entered it—clean and pristine,” Leo reported.

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