Page 50 of Wrong Pawn. Right Capo.

“Capo, Valente just left his villa in a black sedan. There are five cars flanking his.”

Hmmm. The man seems truly formidable, but he’s not half as impressive as the silent precursor.

“Stagli addosso (Tail them closely). Vi aspetto a Queens (I’ll be in Queens waiting).”

“Sì, Capo.”

Francesco and I evaluated this kidnapping as the most dangerous but feasible way to reach Valente. Three of my snipers are already positioned at strategic locations in Queens. One wrong move and all of Valente’s men are dead meat.

The only downside to this plan is that a lot of innocent people are going to get hurt… but only if Valente puts up resistance.

I finally reach the dining room. I grab an apple and some toast from the table as another idea starts to form in my head.

Nothing can go wrong with Valente’s operation.

***

The midday sun is fucking blinding, just like my need to burn every single bastard who butchered my family.

Sweat trickles slowly down my spine and the sides of my face. My arms are crossed over my chest, my gun tucked securely into my waistband, and my baseball cap pulled low over my face as I lean against the temporary barricade set up by my men.

They’re in reflective vests, moving around with lazy efficiency, signaling away civilian cars with the “Closed Road” sign in their hands.

The drivers blare their horns and curse at us, but they all reverse to take the detour, except for the black Mercedes inching slowly toward us.

My lips curl menacingly without the smile reaching my eyes. This is a trap, and Valente’s men just walked directly into it.

One of my men flags down the first escort vehicle, walking over to the driver, whose window slowly winds down to reveal his ugly face.

“You should turn around. The road’s closed.”

The driver snarls at him, “Road looks fine to me. Take the barricade out.”

This one is definitely looking for trouble.

Another man steps down from the car behind the escort vehicle. That should be the car Valente’s in.

He walks until he’s nose-to-nose with my man. “Do we have a problem?”

It’s time. Signaling my men with one flick of my forefinger, they spring into action, and suddenly the air is filled with the deafening sound of gunfire and the smell of gunpowder. My men easily outnumber his security detail as we catch them by surprise.

I move stealthily toward Valente’s car, snatching the shirt of the guard who’d been harassing my man and smashing my fist into his face.

Blood spurts from his nose and mouth as I shove him into the path of one of my other men; he’s not my main target.

I grab the handle of the car, reaching into it for Valente, who’s smartly trying to make his way out the other door.

A bullet tears through the car door inches from my head. Fucking annoyed, I grab onto Valente with one hand, signaling Francesco with my head to come and take him to the designated spot. Through the tinted window’s reflection, I immediately locate the source of the shot.

My jaw ticks when my eyes locate one of Valente’s men firing wildly, eyes wide, chest heaving up and down in fear. Fucking coward.

I put a round through his thigh with my other hand. He drops, screaming, his gun skidding across the asphalt.

Another man ducks behind the car, trying to reload his gun. He must be targeting Francesco, since he’s crossing over the road with Valente now.

My fingers close around the trigger, hitting him square in the shoulder. He collapses to the ground.

My men have taken care of the other potential threats, so I make my way behind Francesco, my crew flanking me.