On second glance, no. It wasn’t Domenico. Fine features, but not fine enough. Broad shoulders, but a little too soft around the midsection. No, no. He was all wrong.
Sergei shook himself. Why the fuck did he care? He had a job to do. Domenico Maisano had nothing to do with it. He had nothing to do with anything.
He rubbed his eyes and focused on watching for his target, not the man who’d inexplicably occupied space in his brain lately.
Nicolá didn’t leave until everyone else had cleared out. Hands in his pockets, eyes down, strolling down the steps and across the parking lot without so much as a glance around him. Funny how he was so good at varying his routine, so vigilant about situational awareness, and yet here and here alone, he let his guard down. Sergei wasn’t sure if Nicolá’s faith was admirable or stupid.
The pious wise guy was alone, which Sergei had expected. The rest of the family was a little more half-assed about attending church, and Nicolá didn’t dare show his face with that pretty Mexican girl no one knew about yet. Maybe Sergei was doing him a favor by eliminating the need for that conversation.
The mark walked toward his car. Gaze down, brow furrowed, keys spinning around his finger. Deep in thought, apparently. The priest must’ve had something profound to say tonight. Good—Nicolá could chew on that while he waited to meet God.
Sergei grabbed a map off the passenger seat, and got out. Effortlessly adopting that perfect American accent he’d honed ages ago, he called out, “Excuse me? Sir?”
Nicolá turned around. “Yes?”
Sergei waved the map. “I’m completely lost and my GPS battery is dead. Could you show me how to get back to the highway?”
“Which highway?” Nicolá dropped his keys into his trouser pocket and started toward him. “The 101 or the 103?”
“103.” Sergei spread the map across the trunk lid. “I’ve been driving around for twenty minutes, and I think I’m going in circles.”
The Italian chuckled. “Easy to do in this part of town. All right.” He tapped the map. “You’re right here, and you want to go—”
He froze. Slowly, his gaze slid downward toward the pistol Sergei had pressed in beneath his ribs. “What the—”
“Get in the car.”
The mark’s lips tightened. “You’re doing this here? In a church parking lot?”
Sergei shrugged. “Not my god.”
Nicolá’s eyebrows rose, his forehead creasing.
“Get in the car.” Sergei nudged him with the pistol. His accent slipped, but at this point, he had the upper hand, and this guy wasn’t going to live long enough to describe him to anyone. “You’re driving.”
The mark exhaled, and then nodded.
Slowly, both eyeing each other, they got into Sergei’s car. Sergei kept the weapon trained on Nicolá’s midsection as the Italian started the engine.
“What’s to stop me from driving into the ocean or crashing into a building?”
“Because you don’t know if I’m planning to kill you or not,” Sergei said coolly. “Or what might happen to Marguerite if I’m not alive to place a certain call later tonight.”
Nicolá sucked in a sharp breath, and Sergei knew damn well he’d won.
At Sergei’s instruction, Nicolá drove to the edge of town.
Sergei pointed at a deserted parking lot outside a supermarket that hadn’t survived the last recession. “Park here.”
The mark slowed down, but didn’t turn. “Why should I? You’re going to kill me either way, aren’t you?”
Sergei exhaled sharply. “Because a bullet to the stomach is one of the more painful ways to die?”
Nicolá’s eyes flicked toward the gun.
Impatiently, Sergei growled, “And Marguerite might—”
“All right! All right. Don’t hurt her. Please.” He cursed in Italian, and then pulled into the parking lot. He stopped, kept both hands on the wheel, and turned to Sergei. “If you’re going to do it, just be done with it.”
“I’m still waiting for orders. Cooperate, and you might walk away tonight. Irritate me, and, well…” Sergei lifted the gun slightly.
Nicolá regarded him uneasily.
“Listen,” Sergei said. “I’m not going to kill you unless you fuck with me. I wasn’t sent here to kill you.”
“Then why—”
“Because someone needs to hold onto you until a decision is made.” Sergei shrugged. “If they decide to kill you, that’s up to the Georgian. Not me.”
“The Georgian?” Nicolá went white. “They’re sending him after me? I didn’t do anything!”
“Not my problem. All I know is that I’m supposed to keep on ice until the final decision is made, and that how well you cooperate with me will determine how much he’s supposed to fuck you up before he kills you.”
Nicolá swallowed hard, as if pushing back a sudden wave of nausea.
Sergei held out his hand. “Keys.”
Expression blank, Nicolá killed the engine and surrendered the keys.
“Get out.” Sergei opened his own door without ever shifting his gaze away from Nicolá. Try anything stupid, and I’ll make you bleed until the Georgian’s ready for you. And remember what I said about your girl. Clear?”