Page 32 of Shotgun Daddy
“You’re right,” Matteo said. “We’ve danced around it too long, trying to play nice. You’re fully back in, Faustino. Equal say, equal weight. And your first task starts now. We need you out there, eyes on this meetup spot. Steel’s got the address. Watch, learn who’s in, then we plan the strike. And when we do, it’s shoot to kill.”
Vinnie, a stocky boss with a scar slicing his eyebrow, cracked his knuckles.
“Hell yeah,” Vinnie said. “I’m with you, Faustino. Let’s make them bleed.”
Faustino felt a surge of grim satisfaction. This was what he’d wanted from the start —no leash, no compromise, just the raw, brutal justice he thrived on.
“Good,” Faustino said, pushing up from the table, the chair scraping against the floor. “Owen, let’s go. It’s time to see what these traitors are cooking up.”
Owen stood, patting Faustino on the shoulder as they headed for the door, the jukebox’s hum fading behind them.
Trouble was brewing, but Faustino was ready. He was ready to crush those who were out to take him, Michael, and Matteo out. Not only that, but he was ready to reclaim his place at the front and center of the family.
The only question was how deep the rot went…
Faustino’s car idled across the street from a nondescript suburban house, its engine cut, the silence eerie.
The place was a two-story house with a patchy lawn, the curtains drawn tight against prying eyes. A single streetlamp buzzed overhead, unusual for the afternoon, casting a sickly yellow glow over the quiet cul-de-sac, the kind of place where neighbors minded their own business.
All said, it was perfect for a group of low-down traitors to meet in plain sight…
Faustino sat in the driver’s seat, his pistol resting on his thigh, eyes locked on the house. Owen sat beside him, loyal as ever,one arm slung over the passenger seat, his own gun tucked under his jacket.
Steel’s tip had been solid, as expected. Three figures had slipped into the house twenty minutes ago, their silhouettes unmistakable even in the dim light. Sal, Tony, and a wiry guy Faustino pegged as Frankie, one of the old guard’s enforcers.
Traitors, every one of them, plotting against the family.
Faustino’s fingers tightened on the gun, his pulse a steady. This was supposed to be a watching brief. Observe, report back, then report back so that him, Matteo, and Michael strategize. But the urge to kick in that door and blast them all to hell burned hot in Faustino’s chest.
In and out.
Down them all.
Problem solved…
Owen glanced at Faustino, reading the tension in his jaw.
“You’re twitchy, man,” Owen said. “What’s eating you? This job or something else?”
Faustino exhaled sharply, his gaze flicking to Owen.
“Both,” Faustino said, a wry smile on his face. “This shit with the family, it’s personal. But it’s Reece too. He’s up in that hotel, safe for now… but I can’t shake the feeling he’s a target. That guy tailing him yesterday? I’m convinced it’s got something to do with the move against us.”
Faustino had waited long enough. It was time to move. It was time to seize control of the situation in the only way he knew…
With his mind made up, Faustino reached for the door, adrenaline surging, when his phone buzzed in his pocket.
Faustino yanked his cell phone out of his pocket, expecting Matteo or Michael, but Reece’s name flashed across the screen…
REECE: Daddy, I got a last minute audition today! A TV pilot, I’m sooo excited! Please don’t be mad, I can’t not go. I just have to do this! Heading out now. Wish me luck XoXoXoXo
The words hit Faustino like a right-cross to the jaw. The boy had disobeyed his direct orders, left the hotel, and was stepping right into the open when he’d told him to stay put.
“Fuck,” Faustino snarled, slamming the phone onto the dash.
How could Reece be so reckless? But Faustino’s anger was drowned by a wave of worry. Reece was out there, alone, with traitors on the move and enemies circling. The grocery store stalker flashed in Faustino’s mind, and his heart flipped. Was this audition a trap?
Owen raised an eyebrow.
