Page 110 of Chris

He never said whether he would kill the man to Abril—it felt more like an unspoken agreement between the two. Jorge needed to go. Not only for what he did to his wife and child, but because Abril needed no question to her place here once it was all said and done.

A man popped his head around the corner, down the hall. Near the staircase that led into the upstairs of the home. They used this house for the guards, and servants on the property. He didn’t recognize the man’s face, although even if he had, he still would have fired.

The more gone, the better.

Less work when the team got here.

Chris pulled back the trigger before the man even realized what was happening and stepped over the corpse when the noise started upstairs. The shouts in Spanish, orders, he thought, although he wasn’t sure.

Didn’t matter.

He recognized that voice.

Jorge.

A spray of bullets came in through a broken window five feet to his left, peppering the wall with more bullet holes. It looked like swiss cheese.

Damn.

Chris took the stairs two at a time, keeping that gun in front of him and ready for whatever was coming next. He took no time at all to find where the group upstairs hid themselves in a back bedroom with three large windows. With the glass gone, they were using the windows to rest their own assault weapons.

Four, he counted.

One glanced over his shoulder.

Chris grinned.

It was like staring into a fucking mirror.

Corrado.

“Brother,” he murmured.

Corrado returned his smile. “Chris.”

Their quiet exchange drew the attention of the other three men. Two, guards for the family that Chris recognized, and the other … Jorge. Corrado was quick to lean back along the windowsill, readjusting the aim of his gun before he pulled back the trigger twice in quick succession. Just like that, the two guards were done.

Jorge turned with his gun already aimed for Christopher. His eyes widened, shifting between Chris in the doorway, and Corrado on the other side of the room.

“Figured it out yet?” Chris asked, his own gun ready, blinking red light from the sights nailed to the spot between Jorge’s eyes. “Meet my twin. The Marcellos say hello, but me? I only want to say fuck you.”

He pulled back the trigger.

He didn’t care to let the man talk.

Jorge just needed to die.

Chris watched the bullet rip through the man’s head, sending him flying back into the windowsill where he’d been standing to shoot. His body damn near flipped out the window, but instead, hung there.

“How far are they away?” he heard his twin ask.

“Not far now, I imagine. And thanks.”

Chris looked Corrado’s way.

His twin shrugged.

“Wasn’t a big thing,” Corrado murmured.