“I don’t know, but it wasn’t them. It could have been—”
“Which one of you killed him?” Felice bellowed as the men were shoved out onto the deck.
They all balked, staring at him and gaping.
“No, no!” The one who’d sounded the alarm said. “I saw blood.” He pointed a shaking hand at the pool, which had extended far enough across the deck to be visible from inside. “Saw blood! Didn’t kill!”
“Uh-huh.”
“The hell you—”
“Felice,” Dom said in Italian, “you don’t know it was one of them!”
“And you don’t know it wasn’t.”
“For God’s sake—”
“All right. Fine. Maybe he did. Maybe he didn’t. But somebody on this boat did, so he can be a fucking example in case they’re thinking of trying it again.” With that, Felice turned and calmly unloaded a single round into the gut of the man who’d sounded the alarm.
The poor man howled in pain and crumpled to the deck.
The other two surged toward him, but Felice’s men stopped them.
“Get back to work,” Felice snarled. “Or you can have one too.”
Shaking, the men looked at each other.
“Back to work!”
They scattered, hurrying back to their staging area.
Felice scowled at the writhing, moaning man, and stalked back inside. “Security. We’ve got someone on board, and I want him alive.”
Dom crouched beside the wounded man and pulled out his pistol. “I’m sorry about this.” He tucked the gun up under the man’s chin.
The man groaned feebly and grabbed Dom’s arm. For a moment, Dom thought he was going to push his hand away, but he guided it upward. To his temple. Their eyes met, and the desperation hit Dom in the gut.
“It’ll be over soon,” Dom said quietly.
The man released his arm, and his eyes slid closed.
Dom pressed his finger into his own ear, the one closest to the bleeding man, and fired.
The body jerked, and then the man was still, but inside the boat, fresh chaos erupted. Two of Felice’s security guards appeared, guns drawn, but Dom put up his hand.
“Relax.” He gestured at the body. “Just putting him out of his misery.”
The men exchanged glances. They lowered their guns, but didn’t holster them.
Felice stormed back out, shoving the men apart so he could get by. “What the fuck?” He threw up his hands. “Dom, what the hell are—”
“We’re not animals, Felice.” Dom rubbed his ringing ear. “You made your point. There was no need to let him suffer like that.”
Felice sighed sharply. To one of his men, he said, “Have the captain take us back out to sea. I don’t want a body floating in the harbor.” To the other, “Tell them”—he jerked his thumb over his shoulder—“to toss their buddy when we stop.”
The men left the deck, and Felice glared at Dom. Gesturing at the body, he growled, “You almost put a fucking bullet through my boat, you know!”
“Put it on my tab,” Dom muttered.
Felice’s nostrils flared. Under his breath, he muttered, “Piece of shit,” and went back inside.
Alone, Dom exhaled. He glanced at Privitera. Then at the dead Korean.
Corrado was going to hit the roof. He loathed Felice’s disregard for their immigrant labor. And one of their own being offed right under their noses? On a boat?
Dom’s gaze slid toward the interior of the boat. The back of his neck prickled. Someone had done this, and whoever it was, they were still on board. Any other time, he might’ve suspected Felice, but he and Felice had been all but joined at the hip since they’d pulled away from the cargo ship.
Which meant it could’ve been anyone else. Literally anyone.
On his way back in, Dom kept his pistol handy. Safety off. Round in the chamber.
Couldn’t be too careful…
Chapter 19
Sergei was running out of time. He hadn’t anticipated being on the boat this long. It was supposed to be a simple job—kill the mark, jump ship, swim to the rendezvous point to meet Baltazar.
And now they were heading back out to sea. This was going to be a long swim, but he didn’t have a choice. Not while Felice’s men were tearing the boat apart in search of him. He needed to get to one of the aft sundecks, but there was a security guard between him and his escape route. And the boat was moving now.
He swallowed. If they stopped, and that fuck was still between him and the water, then there’d be two dead Italians on board. No way was Sergei getting caught.
As the boat approached the harbor, the boat slowed, and Felice ordered the shaking Koreans to do their jobs. Sergei winced as they dragged a crab pot outside, but he didn’t have time to worry about them now. He had to get off this boat.