Page 16 of Primo DeLuca

The man in front of Brizio had taken up a defensive posture, his lip split wide open and the side of his face already swelling from the gun slap he received. With his gun now shoved down the back of his pants, Brizio eyed the man from head to toe and was calling him forward with subtle flicks of his fingers.

I shook my head. If arrogance was a person, Brizio was the poster child. The man, only feet away from him, was smart enough not to go one-on-one with him, most likely sensing my cousin’s level of crazy.

My guy was still trying to figure out why he was on the bathroom floor. He held on to his lopsided face, his jaw shattered. I bent and reached for the burner phone he tossed at me and found one number programmed in it.

I tossed the phone to Brizio, who caught it over the shoulder of the man whose head was in danger of catching one of his bullets. He stopped his attempts to guild the man into a fight and retook his aim.

“Get that checked out,” I told Brizio while he gave the phone a quick once over before nodding.

Brizio was my right hand and was plugged into so many networks, legal and illegal, that his alias count rivaled mine.

“Stand up,” I barked at Mr. Stall. His memory appeared to be returning.

It took him several grunting tries, but he stood on wobbly legs, glaring at me with a look so hateful it would make the devil proud.

“Now,” I said, tucking my gun into the waistband of my pants. “Who the fuck do you work for? If you need it in sign language, my man can help you out.”

Brizio presented the man with a wide grin that flashed pure evil along with a sarcastic bow.

“We…” Mr. Stall sputtered, but I cut him off, lifting my hand and shaking my head. I saw the lie coming before he spoke it. Blood and saliva spilled from his mouth and hung in a long wet string down to his chest.

“I don’t have time for bullshit. I’ve got bigger and better assassins out there waiting to take my life. You either tell me who sent you on a suicide mission or let us go on and get these two kills under our belt so we can move on with our night.”

The one staring down the barrel of Brizio’s gun shook his head, his face drenched in pity. “We don’t know who hired us. We were wired the first payment and promised the rest if our intel helped lead to your death.”

Based on the level of dread entwined in the man’s words, he was more than likely telling the truth. Brizio nodded in my direction. He had a closer view of the man, and like me, had a knack for reading people.

“I hope you two have great life insurance,” Brizio stated, his tone matter of fact and uncaring.

“You don’t have to…”

Tap!

Bits and pieces of Mr. Stall painted part of the stall door behind him before his body landed in a dramatic trembling heap on the floor. The man’s blood spatter had reached back far enough to paint one side of the face of his buddy. Whatever the man was about to say stalled as he tried to breathe and blink away the blood splatter that had gotten into his eyes.

“Damn Primo. You hardly gave him time to be terrorized,” Brizio stated, his tone filled with amusement. His gaze lifted from the dying one on the floor and locked on the man with wide pleading eyes in front of him. The sight of his friend taking his last gurgling breaths while watching his own head contents motivated the man to beg harder for his life.

“I don’t know who hired us, but I can find out. Please. I can find out for you,” he promised.

I glanced at Brizio.

“I’m going to leave him in your caring hands. I need to figure out who sent The Malizioso after me.”

I aimed my weapon for emphasis at the last one standing but kept my eyes on Brizio.

“These two are obviously not The Malizioso, but if you can, find out who sent them.”

The smile on Brizio’s face spoke to his demented state of mind.

“I got this Capo. You go and keep your date with destiny. I’ll be in touch on this or that,” he stated, never taking his eyes off his prey, but tapping the pocket in which he had placed the burner phone.

This man was going to pray that I had shot him versus his friend by the time Brizio was done with him. I was trained to kill by specialized professionals, yet I didn’t get the kind of thrill out of it that I knew Brizio enjoyed.

I unlocked the door and for the third time tonight the noise of the club folded itself around me. Instead of The Malizioso crossing my mind, it was Nevah who popped into my head.

My phone came alive in my pocket, calling my attention as soon as I traded the noise in the club for the silent night lurking outside the back of the club. My teeth grinded into each other, knowing the call would be more shit being added to the shit pile spilling over my life.

“Yes,” I answered, not even bothering to see who the caller was. My vigilant gaze scanned my surroundings while I lurked in the darkness near a dumpster.

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