Page 99 of Wrapped in Silver

Love you, kid.

Sorry it had to be this way.

“You want to go over it one more time?” I ask Patrick.

“Been running stings for my entire career, Arosso,” Patrick says. He fits right into the mob with the trench coat and hat I bought him. Let’s see if he can actually pull this off.

“Humor me.”

“Pull up to the game one block away, give the bouncer the brick with the note, turn back to your car and wait for Nikolaj and Ferraro to eventually exit. Radio you as soon as they’re on the move,” Patrick says. “If the bouncer asks who I work for, say no affiliation. Just someone paying a long overdue debt.”

I nod, breaking eye contact and internalizing that this is really the end.

“Still can’t believe you got a cop uniform so easily,” Pat says, jarring me from my moment of silence.

“It’s easier to pretend than you think.” I hunch my neck and act like a blue-collar policeman, like he is.

“Prick.”

We both cackle.

“Hey,” his tone changes. “Thanks... for this. For someone like you, I’d imagine it would’ve been much easier to put a bulletin my head, and the fact that you didn’t… means you must really care for my little girl.”

“I do. I know I shouldn’t… and I know it’s all fucked up. But that’s life sometimes.” I shrug.

“Mph,” he grunts in agreement.

Once we reach the location, I hand him the keys to a prim black-on-red BMW and offer my hand to shake.

“No hard feelings, Captain Dall. And when this is over, I know I don’t have to say it, but keep Quinn safe. Your world isn’t going to be the same after this.”

He nods curtly.

“And keep those fucking gloves on. You might have a career dusting for prints, but I have one making sure you don’t find any. Might be hard with that belly, but be a fucking ghost tonight.”

He hoots at me. “Yeah, yeah. See you on the other side, Arosso.”

I nod back at him as he exits the car.

“Try to keep my house intact,” he says.

“Can’t promise you that.”

He shuts the door and I peel away. The clock’s ticking.

Fifteen minutes go by. I’m going ten miles an hour over the speed limit with one earpiece in my right ear, connected to the miniature radio on my belt. Patrick tested to make sure we’re on the same frequency, and I’m getting ready for the ultimate play of my life… literally.

All of my muscles constrict randomly, as if my body knows I’m betraying it. Like I told Quinn, I wish there was another way. But John Scar gave me the intel. Eight dirty cops within the bratva ranks, and I’m sure they’ll all be accounted for tonight given the severity of the message.

Every Russian in the tri-state area is scouring for Captain Patrick Dall. Little do they know, he’s right under their noses.

I pull a block away from the Dall household, and check the four silenced pistols strapped to my legs and waist. Unzipping my duffle, the sniper rifle is fully assembled, but I undo the scope and stick it in the front of my belt for easy access.

I’m sorry, Quinn.

Exiting the car and quietly shutting the door, I sprint for the backyard to get to the roof I’ll be scouting from to get a bird’s eye view of Quinn’s home. Brick is infinitely easier to climb than shingle, which is why I chose this house. I scoped it out weeks ago, checking the pristine interior of fine materials, signaling to me this isn’t a builder’s grade quick flip house. It’s actually someone wealthy who lives here—which gives me hope this building will be an easy climb.

It is.

---