Total pages in book: 247
Estimated words: 248926 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1245(@200wpm)___ 996(@250wpm)___ 830(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 248926 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1245(@200wpm)___ 996(@250wpm)___ 830(@300wpm)
“Good job as always, David. You need a promotion.”
“I agree.”
Maxwell called back, “I need one too. And a vacation.”
“You’ve been traveling with the French. Surely, that was a fucking cruise compared to us.”
Maxwell mumbled, “One would think, but they would be wrong.”
We reached the greenhouse.
David opened the door.
Maxwell and Jean-Pierre barreled in first with their weapons out.
Potted plants packed the room. Sunlight poured through the glass ceiling.
Positioned among the many plants, five of the Don’s enforcers stood with assault rifles and machine guns at the ready. They instantly opened fire.
Bullets whizzed and ricocheted off the glass and potted plants. Chunks of wood and dirt flew. Shattered glass rained down.
Maxwell and David returned fire, hitting one in a thigh and another in the shoulder.
Jean-Pierre disappeared behind tall vines.
I dove on the floor, pressed myself against a pot of bamboo, and shot one in the foot. He crashed to the floor.
Then, I got him in the head.
Some of the gunfire decreased.
“Two left!” Maxwell shot a guy in the chest. The man fell to the ground and then tried to raise his gun.
“Eh!” Maxwell shot him in the neck. “Stay dead!”
Jean-Pierre slung a cut off head our way. “Last one gone!”
Psycho.
The head landed next to Maxwell’s feet. He jumped back. “Motherfucker, you could have just said that.”
Jean-Pierre appeared by several rose bushes. “I prefer evidence.”
“And I prefer decapitated heads not rolling by my feet.” Maxwell walked away.
“The Don is definitely in here.” I rose from the ground and scanned the room. “Those were his main enforcers.”
We searched through the greenhouse, moving plants and flowers to the side.
Maxwell stomped through rows of plants. “Man, this place smells amazing. You would think it would be a rosy fragrance, but it’s something else.”
I sniffed the air and shrugged. “Citrusy.”
“Yeah, man. Like we are swimming in a cool, sweet glass of lemonade.”
I stopped at the bookcase lining the wall. “Hmmm.”
Bookshelf in a greenhouse? I don’t think so.
Maxwell’s voice sounded behind me. “Maybe, it’s because of all these fruit trees over here. Smells so good, I’m getting hungry.”
“Since the Butler has taken this time to shower,” David said. “You might as well sit down and have a lovely lunch, Maxwell. You can go in the Don’s kitchen and make a sandwich.”
I went up to the bookcase, pulled away a few books, and slung them on the floor.
Annoyance laced Jean-Pierre’s voice. “My cousin is the reason why we are safely in this house.”
“Is that what you think?” David chuckled. “He ruined my plan.”
“In my cousin’s defense, we believed your plan was a suggestion not some concrete—”
“I say the plan. You follow.” David’s voice rose. “Next time, do not think! Just do!”
Maxwell spoke, “I think these are oranges over here.”
I yanked off another row of books and spotted a gold button in the back. “Interesting.”
“And these are lemons for sure. Shit.” Maxwell loudly inhaled. “This is why the room smells good. It could be the lemons.”
I hit a button and stepped back.
A beep sounded.
Then, the whole bookcase slid to the right, revealing a small room.
Perfect.
There, Don Fabrizio sat in a chair with his breathing machine next to him. A clear mask was strapped onto his face. The machine produced a low, rumbling hum. A cellphone lay in his lap.
His hand shook as he held a gun and pointed my way.
I sneered. “Put it down.”
Reluctantly, he dropped the gun to the ground.
I studied him.
Today, the Don wore a yellow suit, vest, and jacket with a pale yellow shirt. However, his dark red tie made him look like a lemon that was bleeding at the top.
I raised my gun.
“Wait.” The Don held his hand in front of him. “Wait. I have information on Fela.”
Jean-Pierre got to my side.
I aimed at his face. “What information?”
“Fela is coming here to meet with me.”
I lowered the gun. “When?”
“Now.”
Jean-Pierre and I exchanged glances.
“I-I swear to you.” The Don pointed to his lap. “Check my phone. You will see our messages.”
Jean-Pierre stepped forward, picked up the phone, and walked off. “What’s your code to get in?”
“0556.” The Don watched me. “I can help you get Fela. He is your true enemy.”
“Yet, you planned to meet with him.”
“You killed my sons.”
“Because they tried to kill me.”
“Kazimir, you are young, but one day you will grow old, look past power, and see the importance of family.”
“I see it now.”
“Yet, you continue to make enemies of everyone—”
“They come for me.”
“And you welcome them.” The Don pulled off his mask and wheezed. “I heard the Mouse is pregnant. You must make friends in Italy if you plan to keep your child safe.”
“You should remain silent. I could simply shoot you. . .” I grinned. “Or I could take my time.”
The Don pursed his lips and placed the mask back over his face.
Maxwell walked over. “Can I ask him something?”
I shrugged. “Go ahead.”