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“Dario, I’m not in the mood for your shit today. Let’s get this over with so I can take some time off to deal with–” I catch myself before mentioning Gabriella and our upcoming wedding.
I can feel everyone’s eyes on me, and losing my temper, I shout, “Get on the fucking plane.”
When I enter the cabin, I take my seat. Angelo sits down beside me and gives me a questioning look. I shake my head so he won’t start asking questions.
I just want to focus on killing Miguel. That’s my main priority right now.
Once all the men have boarded, Dario says, “Franco’s babies are sick. They all have the shits.”
“Christ, poor man,” Angelo mutters. “I’d rather go to war than deal with three babies who all have diarrhea.”
“Can we not talk about shit,” I growl.
“Seriously, who pissed you off?” Angelo asks me.
“Just focus on the mission,” I snap.
The other men know not to push me any further, and after the private jet’s taken off and we’re in the air, Dario inspects the weapons we always keep onboard.
Once he’s done, he takes a seat again and checks his phone.
My thoughts turn to the past two weeks. The hotel burning down.
The attack on my men.
The attack on my men has been bothering me. Tommy said it wasn’t drug dealers but trained men.
If it wasn’t Miguel, then who would have the guts to gun down my men?
Dario lets out a sigh, then Renzo asks, “What?”
“Miguel hasn’t been spotted again.”
Fuck.
With my eyes locked on the oval window beside my seat, I ask, “Where was he last seen?”
“A set of traffic lights near one of his clubs.”
“He’ll probably be there until late,” Renzo says. “Which means we’ll have to wait him out.”
“Or we go in.” Looking at the other heads of the Cosa Nostra, I mutter, “I want this done as quickly as possible. We’ve wasted enough time on this fucker.”
“How do you want to do this, Damiano?” Angelo asks.
I play out a couple of scenarios in my head before answering, “We’ll all go into the club. Our men as well. We’ll walk up to the fucker as a family, and I’ll kill him in front of everyone. It will send a message not to fuck with us.”
Just in case someone else is behind the fire and killing of my men.
“And the witnesses?” Renzo asks.
I wave a careless hand in the air. “Let them talk.”
When we finally touch down in Miami, I feel fucking moody from the flight.
We head to the SUVs Emilio arranged for us and pile into the vehicles.
During the drive, I tap my fingers impatiently on my thigh, and when we pull up to the club, it’s quiet because it’s still early.
