Total pages in book: 197
Estimated words: 199143 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 996(@200wpm)___ 797(@250wpm)___ 664(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 199143 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 996(@200wpm)___ 797(@250wpm)___ 664(@300wpm)
“I appreciate you never made trouble for me and mine here. I never got the chance to tell you that.”
“And I’m sure,” Charles replied drily, “that you didn’t call today to do it, either.”
“You’re right. I called to tell you Gabbie is giving birth. Her first child. A boy. I thought you might like to come to New York and say hello. Catch up.”
The man on the end went quiet.
Dante gave him a moment before he added, “The longer you take to apologize, the harder it will be for her to forgive you. Oh, I’m sure she’s forgiven you for herself ... but that’s not you, is it? You’ve not heard her forgiveness given to you. I bet it’s a lonely life you live. Most of your family’s gone now—lucky bastard you are to have lived through all of this, but for what ... for what, Charles, when you’re living alone. I am extending you the chance to no longer do that. Please, accept.”
“And what’s the strings, Marcello?”
“The past.”
“What about it?”
“It stays there, Charles.”
It took the man all of a half of a second to reply.
“I give me word, Marcello.”
“You can call me Dante. All my family does.”
The Chicago War
Damian | Lily
Hits and Kisses
Damian pulled the leather driving gloves on one at a time, tugging them firmly to make sure they were in place. It was almost like a ritual for him before a killing—something that he found put him into a different headspace.
There was no husband here.
No expectant father.
No forgotten child.
No Capo.
No Damian.
Just an Outfit man doing business.
A business he was rather good at.
Killing.
His thoughts drifted back to an earlier time, a time when he was living in even more seclusions and without outside influence than he did now. He remembered that call from the boss all too well—his first order for the Outfit, his first kill.
Terrance had a guard that had been caught spying on his granddaughters during private moments. He wanted the man to understand the depth of his wrong doings and sins.
Damian did it all with a fucking smile.
After, however, when he was back home alone, Damian found himself restless and overthinking. More so than he had ever been before.
That lessened over time.
The kills got easier.
The jobs became simpler.
Just another blank face.
Stepping out of his Porsche, Damian sent off a text message to his wife.
I’ll be home soon, his read.
Lily answered back a few minutes later. Just leaving Abriella’s place.
Don’t wait up for me, he texted back.
Damian knew her response before it even came through.
You know I will anyway.
Yeah, he did.
And that was exactly why he loved his wife.
Damian slid his phone back into his jacket pocket, and began his stroll across the street toward the apartment building on the other side.
Another enforcer for the Outfit would lose his life tonight.
It wasn’t all that much of a loss.
Darryl, as Tommas had said, had been far too close to Joel to allow the man to live. Loose ends were only good for one thing: fucking shit up.
Damian didn’t leave loose ends.
No man’s soul was worth twenty-five to life.
None.
*
Damian put his ear to the apartment door, and listened for any sounds of movement within. He heard nothing but the buzz of a television set. Sliding a small compact case from his pocket, he flipped open the side and chose the tool he wanted to use. Keeping an eye on the long, dark hall of the third floor, he checked for people that might come out of their apartment and see him as he slid the long, tapered end of the tool into the lock.
A few quick jiggles of the tool, and Damian felt the spikes drive into the proper position for the tumbles of the deadbolt. He turned it slowly, not wanting to make any noise. Once the lock was open, he turned the knob and pushed on the door. Inside, the apartment was dark except for a flicker on the far wall that gave away where the television was positioned in the next room.
Quietly, Damian closed the door and put the tool back into his pocket. He’d made a few calls after he’d spoken with Tommas, and he knew that Darryl wasn’t running the streets at his usual haunts. Damian assumed the enforcer must have gone home.
Pulling the gun out from the waistband of his slacks, Damian grabbed the long silencer from the inside of his jacket. He spun the silencer into the barrel, making sure it was tight and good.
No one needed to interrupt his business because of the sound of a gunshot, after all.
Damian learned a long time ago how to walk without making a sound. It was useful in his business, and it allowed him to come and go without being seen. He made his way down the hallway, and checked around the corner where the television was playing a rerun of a comedy sitcom.