Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 57707 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 192(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57707 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 192(@300wpm)
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
TRISTAN
Iwait outside Raffie’s apartment for the pizza guy to show up, then climb from my car and wander over to him. “Pizza for Raffie Trentini?” I ask.
The kid looks at me, probably around twenty, lean and suspicious. “Uh, yeah.”
“Want to make fifty bucks?”
That changes his mood, and I explain quickly. Together, we go to the intercom. He presses down on the button. After a minute, Raffie finally answers, his voice sluggish. “Hello?”
“Pizza for you, sir.”
“I didn’t order a pizza.”
“Rafeal Trentini?”
“Yes, but I didn’t order a damn pizza.”
Lowering my voice to a whisper, I tell the kid, “Say it’s bacon and sausage. Then say, if it’s a mistake, you’ll take it back.”
After doing as I say, Raffie murmurs, “Bacon and sausage … Hmm, that does sound like my order. Fuck it. Come on up.”
Once the buzzer goes, I grab the pizza and hand the kid the cash. Opening the door, I walk up the stairs, hardening myself.
I knock on Raffie’s door, then step to the side and open the pizza box. When the door opens, I drive the pizza directly in his face. He yelps and stumbles backward, reaching for something. I grab his wrist, squeeze, and feel his strength ebb.
“Fuck, please, no!” He stares up through layers of sauce, cheese, and toppings. “T?”
“Surprised to see me?” I growl, kneeling down next to him and taking out my piece. Leaning back, I swing the door closed, keeping my gun aimed at him the whole time. “I guess Tank told you I’d be in lockup, eh, big man?”
Raffie shakes his head, his hair sending splatters of sauce everywhere. “What? Tank? What are you talking about?”
I grab him by the throat one-handed, rage surging through me when I think about these Mob fucks showing up at Mayas’s house. Pushing the gun against his cheek, I say, “I thought I could handle this the civilized way. I thought I could walk the line, but with the Trentinis, there’s no line: just trafficking, sickness, and bloodshed.”
Raffie begins to gasp and shudder when I let him go, clawing at his neck. “T, please. Man …” he gasps. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
I drag him to the armchair and shove him into the seat, leaning forward. “So you’re telling me, Raffie, it’s a coincidence that the same day I pick up your little parcel is the same day I get hounded by the cops?”
He winces, looking down at the table.
“Don’t make me beat the truth out of you.”
He doesn’t say anything for a long time, seeming to consider his options. He must know I’m capable of ending him if it comes to that.
“Shit, man,” he groans. “I need to get off this shit. It makes thinking so hard.”
“I don’t care about any of that. Just tell the truth.”
“Tank approached me, all right? They got ten years on me. If I didn’t give you up, then … I’m sorry, T.”
“Tank is mobbed up now?”
“He’s been working with us for almost three months. I’m sorry, T.”
“Working, how? Like me?”
“Nah, cop stuff. Tipping us off. Hiding stuff. You know, the usual.”
“Are you paying him well?”
I wonder if that will make any of this easier. Maybe I can forget about the thick, blood-tinged air. Maybe I can forget the screams. Maybe I can forget Odin.
“Yeah.” Raffie scoffs. “Better than me.”
“Fucking hell, Raffie,” I growl. “I thought he might be doing it because he thought he was doing the right thing—climbing the ranks—like maybe he could take it down from the inside.”
Even through the cheese and the sauce, I can see Raffie’s confusion. “That’s naïve coming from you.”
“Maybe so,” I snarl, “but that’s over now. You’re going to help me.”
“Do what?” he says quietly.
“End the Trentini Family.”
It’s the only way of stopping the bastards from going after Maya, the sanctuary, and those kids, the ones they tried to get me to fight. How many more are there like them?
“You’ve got a death wish,” Raffie whispers.
I lean forward even further, casually passing my gun from one hand to another. “Maybe it’s a death wish I’ve got, Raffie.”
“What do you expect me to do? I’m not some bigshot. I may be a Trentini, but I’m low on the totem pole. A bastard. You can hurt me all you want, T. The Family won’t care. Hell, they might join in on the beating!”
“If you were to come to them with a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, they’d listen. All anybody in this city gives a damn about is money.”
“They wouldn’t throw me out the door,” Raffie says, “but do you expect me to do that?”
“You’re not dealing with Tristan now,” I tell him. “You need to understand that. You’re dealing with the Marine.”
He swallows, running his hands up and down his legs. He knows what that means. I won’t tell him everything, won’t tell him that this raging hate in me comes from the idea of anybody, ever, hurting Maya.