My mind races to process this new information while I slowly lean toward the gun. It’s barely out of reach, and I don’t know if I can get to it without making more noise. I’m a pretty good shot—Dad’s seen to that—but I’m no expert. I’m not Ian, who can accurately hit his target even in motion and without much visibility.
“You forget that Tony doesn’t have the rank to give anybody orders. He’s a fucking soldier running around like a capo or underboss, making decisions he has no goddamn right to make,” the killer says. His voice is calm and smooth, triggering a memory from recent months. The same voice came from the man who stood against my Bug in the school parking lot telling me he needed to speak with my dad. Leo Scavo.
“Tony represents our future.”
“If Tony is our future, then I want none of it.”
“I’ll make sure your mother remembers you as a man of honor,” the man tells Leo as he cocks his gun. Even standing behind Leo, I can see how angry he is. His neck turns red, and his shoulders straighten like he’s preparing for a fight.
If I don’t do something to distract the unnamed man, he’s going to kill Leo, and I’ll be in a worse situation than I already am. Thinking quickly on how to handle the situation, I stretch my arm out for the gun but come up short by no more than three inches. I’m leaning too far to the side and lose my balance, falling on my hip. The rustling of the fallen leaves and twigs beneath me redirects the attention of both men.
The man I don’t know narrows his dark eyes and lowers his gun until I’m staring down the barrel. Leo steps off to the side and moves to cock his gun as discreetly as possible. From his new angle, he’s better equipped to take the other man out. The stranger keeps his gun pointed at my head but turns his body and face toward Leo.
“Prove to me that you’re still a standup guy,” he says to Leo.
I may have grown up with a rowdy motorcycle club and not a mafia family, but a lot of the language is interchangeable. This guy has already called Leo’s loyalty into question once and got away with it, but doing it twice is no doubt dangerous. With any luck, Leo will take this guy out like he should. If it were my dad, he wouldn’t stand for such an insult.
Sure enough, Leo raises his gun and points it at the guy’s head. “I owe you nothing. Do not forget that.”
The man steps forward, creeping closer to me, and with his attention still on Leo, he smiles. It’s a sick combination of amusement and arrogance that I can’t stomach. He seems to think Leo is the betraying the family because he’s not on board with Tony’s agenda. I may not be privy to even half of what’s going on between the club and the Mancuso crime family, but I know the basics. Tony is the reason Alex had to leave New York. Without his bullshit temper tantrum, nobody ever would have had to know that Alex made the mistake of trusting the wrong person. As far as I can see it, if Leo isn’t onboard with Tony, then he’s not really that much of a threat to us. He told me the man he shot would have taken pleasure in hurting me. Other than keeping the peace—and right now that means keeping me alive—Leo had no reason to kill that man. He could have let him hurt me and then used him to help get to Michael, but he didn’t. He didn’t have to kill him right then—he chose to. Maybe, just maybe, Leo isn’t really the enemy after all.
“Then you’ve made your choice.” The man moves to redirect his gun toward Leo.
I have to act now, or I’ll lose my chance. Reaching for Jeremy’s gun, I lift it quickly, unlock the safety, cock the barrel back, and train it on the man who is set on killing the only person who might be able to stop the bloodshed.
The man’s eyes slide over to me and widen in surprise. Shock registers on his face for just a moment before he masks it with a cool indifference and corrects his aim to Leo’s chest. Leo has been still all this time, seemingly waiting to react to whatever may happen around him. There are three people, and all three of us have a weapon and know how to use it. Unless two of us can manage to form an alliance, these woods are going to get very bloody very fast.
“Put down the gun,” I say to the man across from me.
He ignores me and snarls at Leo. “You would prefer the company of trash over your oath.”
I really do hate to be called trash. People in fancy cars and pricey suits always want to judge us because we would rather live it up in comfort without pretense than to force ourselves to pretend as though were something we’re not. And I’m fucking sick of it.
I squeeze the trigger with my pointer finger, aiming the gun at the guy’s chest. I know better than to shoot for any reason but to kill. That’s one of the first lessons dad taught me when he first introduced me to the guns back when I was in kindergarten. Before that, we had always had guns around the house, but I knew better than to ask to touch one. It’s not a toy. It’s a weapon designed for destruction.
My bullet lands in the guy’s shoulder, more than six inches left of my intended target. Leo raises his gun, and without a moment’s notice, he’s fired and landed two more bullets into the guy’s chest. His body falls backward, and his gun spills from his hand.
CHAPTER 25