The sun shone brightly over the arch, and Lorenzo looked away from the glare. He checked his watch. Carlo and Renaldo could not fail. The fucker had to be at the Traiano. It was the only place to take a clear shot. His gaze swept the others. His men were at every corner of via dei Rettori, and a few had arrived early to post in the surrounding buildings. He and Giovanni had agreed on this plan. Still, he felt on edge having his cousin’s life in his hands. Would his cousin be as trusting if he knew what his actions had cost Papa Tomosino? He could not fail him or the family again. There would be no more family blood on his hands.
Bonaduce’s men were oddly situated a distance apart. Two of Bonaduce’s top enforcers faced east, as if expecting something or someone. The narrow street facing Lorenzo and his cousin was sandwiched between buildings, one a hotel the other appeared to be an apartment home of some kind. In the distance was Traiano. He’d visited the hotel on occasion and was well acquainted with it. Had Carlo and Renaldo made it in time? A gleam sparkled from the roof and caught his eye. A reflective glare sparkled again with a slight turn of his head. The odd location of the flare made the hairs on the back of his nape stand on end. The roof was flat, nothing to it, so what could it be? Thanks to the distance he questioned his eyes and his suspicion. Lorenzo glanced back at Giovanni and then to the Traiano.
Cheung nearly took the shot. The men stepped closer to the arch, and the movement could have caused a misfire. He steadied his aim again and relaxed. Bonaduce kept pacing away. Twice one of the Don’s sons stepped too close to his target, and the old Don was less than discreet in pulling his son away from Giovanni. Time was up. He had to take the shot. Killing a man this powerful and notorious would gain him much respect in the Triad. Giovanni Battaglia led the Cammora with an iron fist. It was time for someone to squash him with one. “Die motherfucker,” Cheung said, and a millisecond before he pulled the trigger, the tall man next to Giovanni shoved him hard in the back. Cheung fired. The bullet hit Bonaduce’s son. The young boy was blown several feet back taking the force dead center to his gut. Immediately everyone dove and Cheung recognized his mistake.
“Fuck! Fuck!” He grabbed his rifle and ran for the side of the building. He’d have only minutes before all hell rained down upon him.
“Are you okay?” Lorenzo asked.
The shove sent him face first to the ground. Giovanni could taste the grit of dirt and blood on his lips. He spat in disgust. He struggled to rise, a bit winded. The noisy wails of Don Bonaduce who cradled his dying son in his arms rattled him. He glanced back and several of his men were engaged in open warfare with Bonaduce’s men.
“Stay down, Gio! I’ll get you out of here.”
“Son of a bitch!” Giovanni grunted and glanced at Bonaduce who continued to shout the young boy’s name. He did not seem in fear of another assassin’s bullet. The death shot was meant for Giovanni.
“We have to go. The polizia are on us. Now, Gio! Now!”
Without delay he got to his feet and ran for the car waiting for him. His men would deal with the fallout. He couldn’t be caught at the scene. “How close are we to catching the assassin?”
“Close. He took the shot from Traiano. Carlo and Renaldo won’t fail us. I was right about the location.”
Giovanni smirked. “Then it goes down just as we planned. Exactly as we planned Lorenzo.”
“It was risky, Gio. Doing things this way. Fuck! You could have been killed.”
He cut a glance to Lorenzo as his cousin looked over to him smiling. It felt like the old days when they didn’t care about risks. They just took them in stride. “I’m good as long as I got you by my side cousin.” Giovanni said.
“Always. Always.”