Total pages in book: 260
Estimated words: 245483 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1227(@200wpm)___ 982(@250wpm)___ 818(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 245483 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1227(@200wpm)___ 982(@250wpm)___ 818(@300wpm)
I grin. “You know I don’t.”
He nods as I turn and walk quickly down the street.
The block is quiet. It’s a pretty normal-looking residential street on the South Side. The buildings are large brownstones some with flowerpots on the steps, but they’re all in pretty bad condition. This is the neighborhood the city forgot about, and so crime is rampant.
It doesn't surprise me that the Don comes here to play poker. The Rossis have safe houses all over this neighborhood. It’s their main turf. Besides that, he grew up in this place. He probably still has friends in the old neighborhood, and I’m betting he’s playing with them right now.
I check my watch as I walk toward the building. Eight minutes to go. I find an alley between the buildings and head down toward the back.
I scout around the corner, and it’s completely quiet. It takes me a second before I spot the fire escape. I walk over and climb up onto a dumpster before jumping up and grabbing the lowest rung. It slides down with a metallic grind. I dangle there for a second, watching, but nobody comes outside.
I pull myself up and climb. It takes me a few minutes, but finally I crest the roof and find myself standing above the block. I check my watch one more time. Three minutes to spare.
I get into position at the edge of the roof and crouch down to set up my rifle. I have a silencer at one end, a high powered scope, and a tripod on the front. I rest the tripod on the ledge and adjust the scope until it’s perfect. The distraction should separate them enough. And with the fire escape, I’ll be gone before they can get to me. Just one kill. The others can do whatever the fuck they want.
My heart is beating fast. I take a few deep breaths to calm myself, holding onto my rifle. I scope out the front of the deli and it’s deserted, though that doesn’t mean anything. There are clearly three mafia trucks parked outside. They’re the only nice cars on the block.
I hold my rifle, waiting. I’ve done this hundreds of times before. I’m a damn good shot, and I never miss. I’ve never killed a Don before, but he’s a man like any other. One bullet to his skull, and he’ll go down.
Seconds tick past, and then minutes. I check my watch with a frown.
He’s late. Eleven minutes pass, and then twelve. There’s no fire down there, hell, there’s no sign of my father.
When fifteen minutes come and go, I’m beginning to worry. My blood races with anxiety. Something happened down there. He’s never late like this, not on an important hit. Maybe he’s a piece of shit in our daily lives but when we’re out on a mission together, he’s as dependable as anything else in this world. He’s a fucking rock.
Not tonight. He’s late for the first time in our career together. I have no clue why, or what’s wrong. We didn’t set up walkies. I didn’t even think about them because we never use them, but of course that was a stupid decision.
I turn and look back at the roof. I’m secluded, and I realize that my only way off is the fire escape. There’s no entrance to the roof from the actual building itself.
A sound catches my ear. I look around, frowning. It’s a low chop, a sputtering noise. It takes me a second to identify it.
It’s a helicopter, flying low, directly toward me.
Suddenly, it clicks. The spot I’m in, the phone call, my father’s lateness. It all makes sense.
I grab my rifle and whirl it toward the helicopter, taking aim. I fire off two shots, but it keeps coming faster than I expected. I have to reload as it screams toward me, descending onto the roof. I curse myself for not bringing something that holds more ammo.
My father. That fucking bastard. Panic and anger rise up in me as I prepare to fire off more shots, desperately trying to defend my impossible position.
Wind whips my body. It’s going to fucking land a few feet away from me, and I’m suddenly cut off from the fire escape. I wasted my chance to try to escape by shooting at them like a fucking fool. There are some bullet holes in the front glass, but the pilot seems unharmed.
Four men with high powered rifles jump out of the helicopter. They’re screaming at me, but I don’t hear them. I fire off two more shots, clipping one guy in the shoulder before they’re only feet away from me. I drop my rifle to the ground and throw a punch at the first man that comes at me. My fist cracks into his jaw with a meaty thud. I feel satisfied for half a second until someone hits me in the back of the head and I fall forward.