Page 172 of Creep

Fucking hell. I looked up to hide my exasperation. The last thing I needed was her sentiment. I turned away and opened the door, looking around. The hallway was dark and empty. Perfect. All the partying was downstairs, which meant no one would be paying attention to her.

I turned back to find the girl already close behind me.

“Go,” I said, pushing her out.

She left and did as I asked, not looking back.

I went back into the room and got started, pulling out the sharp blade attached to my back. I pulled off the cover of the blade, the silver glinting in the light.

Then I got to work.

* * *

Late at night,Giovanni Tacchini could be found in his home, a fortress on its own, with guards posted in almost every corner. Sneaking in here was harder than getting into the strip club run by the Camorra, made even harder with the eleven-pound package in my hand.

I could hear it dripping.

Annoyance ran through me at the prospect of having any liquid from Gallo on me.

What a fucking inconvenience. I wouldn’t have bothered doing so much if I hadn’t wanted to leave an impression behind.

I got into the quiet house.

It was late.

Everyone had probably gone to bed, but not dear old Giovanni.

He was in his office, smoking a cigar, a habit well-known in his small circle. Didn’t he know predictability only made him an easy target?

Or perhaps, like Gallo, old age had made him arrogant.

Might make him a little harder to deal with than I had anticipated.

I sauntered into his office, catching him off guard.

“What the fuck?” he shouted, pulling his gun on me. The man was quick—I’d give him that.

I grinned. “Put that away and let’s talk, Tacchini.”

“Talk?” he asked carefully. “You came into my house, my office, and you want to talk? You’re fucking lucky I didn’t put a bullet in your head on sight.”

I shrugged. “You could have. Then you would have missed out on an opportunity to work with me.”

“Yeah? And why the fuck would I want to work with you?”

I didn’t answer him. I threw the package on his desk. Red liquid slowly ran out of the box I kept it in and seeped onto the stack of papers he had there.

He looked down at it, then back at me.

“A little gift from me.”

He didn’t say anything for a beat. I let my arms rest casually at my sides to show I wasn’t carrying any weapons. He held the gun with one hand and opened the package with the other.

I watched his face as he inspected the little present.

Miguel Gallo’s head.

The fucker’s eyes were half opened, his skin sagging a bit from not being attached to his body. What an unsightly fucker.

---