Cowboy Gangster 02 - Gunnin' for Love (CMS) (MM) (19 page)

♦

Dawn was a faint, distant promise on the horizon, dominated by the lingering night. The city lights in the distance remained aglow in the darkness shrouding the metropolis. The clock on the nightstand informed him it was fifteen minutes past four in the morning. Way too early to be up and alert. Typically he was still fast asleep at this hour with a couple more to go before his alarm woke him. His bed was made, untouched since the previous night. He wondered if he would ever sleep in it again.

Standing in the window wasn’t the wisest thing for a man of his
vocation
to do –especially tonight. But retribution wouldn’t be as quick as a sniper shot to the head. Only the lucky were awarded such treatment. His death would be slow…and particularly violent. Death would become his sweetest dream long before it came true.

None of that matters. Gianni is safe. You did what you had to do.

He stood unmoving, watching the private drive that led up from the neighborhood street. The modest, modern home was set back to itself and well-constructed. Nearly sound proof. Whatever happened to him inside these walls would be for his own – and his tormentor’s –ears only.

It was four-thirty when the car turned up the drive, headlights off, and parked without approaching the house. Shadows among shadows, he watched the men exit the car. Two men. He didn’t have to see their faces to know who had come for him.

The bedroom light was off, cloaking him in darkness. The men couldn’t see him, he was sure of it. They walked right up to the front door –and knocked. They had some major cajones, he had to give them that. He left the window and walked out of the bedroom. The door would be forced if he didn’t answer, and no reason to unnecessarily cause Gianni the added expense of having to fix the front door when it came time to sell the house.

His throat began to close as he stepped into the short entry hall. He would never see Gianni graduate from high school, never see the glow in his eyes when he fell in love for the first time for real. Never know the joy of being a grandparent.

But Gianni will still get to experience life. You were a good father, he will remember you fondly and tell his children about all the good times the two of you enjoyed together. Your spirit will be kept alive in the heart of your son.

Blinking back his tears as a glimpse of Gianni’s future flashed before his eyes –a full, happy life –Carlo Venetti answered the door.

♦

The barrel of the handgun was against Venetti’s forehead the second the door came open, Cochise shoving the man backward, gripping the weapon with an itchy trigger finger.

Clint stepped inside and closed the door. The Italian’s hands raised slowly, his eyes wide and damp –fearful, yet understanding his fate was sealed. He had been expecting them. And that fact told Clint the man knew of Cory and Shay’s fate, which would not have been possible this soon –if he hadn’t set them up from the start.

Even so, Clint wanted a verbal confession. “Yes or no,” he murmured as he casually checked the Beretta’s clip then snapped it back into place. He met Carlo Venetti’s frightened eyes with a stone cold stare as Cochise’s weapon indented his brow, causing the skin to redden around the tip of the barrel.

The man trembled. “Let me explain,” he whispered.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Clint nodded –then jerked up the Beretta and fired two quick rounds, blowing out the man’s kneecaps. Venetti screamed and dropped with a hard thump, writhing on the polished wood flooring, blood smearing beneath him.

Cochise shoved his foot down with force on Venetti’s chest, holding the man still. His body convulsed with pain, tears pouring from his eyes, his breath erratic and staggered.

“As it stands,” Clint said. “That’s two knee braces. You’ll be crippled, but possibly surgery can help repair some of the damage.” He walked closer and aimed the weapon at the Italian’s head. “But nothing can save you from a bullet in the brain.” His face hardened and chest tightened. “Just ask our boy Shay.”

“I-I didn’t have a choice,” Carlo stuttered, choking on his cries.

“What the fuck does that mean?” Clint growled.

Cochise’s head snapped around and he glared at Clint. “Who the fuck cares what it means?” he hissed. “The fucker set them up. That’s
all
that fucking matters.”

Clint held up his hand and looked at Venetti. “What do you mean you didn’t have a fucking choice?”

“He…” Carlo shuddered, his face twisting in pain, trying to breathe beneath the pressure of Cochise’s foot. “He…took my son…said he would kill him if…if I didn’t do what he said.”

“
Who?
” Cochise yelled and ground the sole of his boot into the man’s chest.

“I don’t know!” Carlo cried, gasping hard. “He…he didn’t give me his fucking
name!
”

“Did you meet with him face to face?” Clint demanded. “Did you
see
him?”

The man shook his head vigorously, coughing. “We spoke on the phone…he…he already had my son,” he whimpered. “I-I didn’t have a choice.”

“Could he have been one of your old family?” Clint asked.

“I-I don’t know. I…I guess….maybe…I don’t know.”

“You asked for me on this job first,” Clint spoke low. “Was
I
the target?”

“No,” Carlo whispered. “I-I was told to ask for you…knowing you wouldn’t do it. Corrigan…was the target.”

Cochise shoved down with his foot until Clint heard something
give
in the Italian’s chest cavity and the man gasped sharply, his breath surging. “And
Shay?
”

Tear spilled down Carlo’s temples as he stared up at the Egyptian, eyes bulging as he tried to breathe. “Collateral damage.”

“Collateral damage?” Cochise growled low –and Clint grabbed his arm, halting him as he started to shift his foot to smash the man’s head.

“I-I didn’t want to do it,” Carlo choked out desperately. “My son…I couldn’t let him hurt my son. I’m sorry…I’m so sorry…”

Clint clutched his weapon, his breath rushing through his nostrils and hand gripping the Egyptian’s strong arm. “Did he give your son back?”

“Y-yes…a couple hours ago.”

“Where-”

The front door burst open and Clint whipped around, weapon aimed at the newcomer –a black-haired teenaged boy. The kid’s eyes widened in horror. “Dad!”

“Gianni!” Carlo thrust out his hand, warding the boy off. “What are you doing here? I told you not to come back tonight! Go!”

The boy stood frozen, staring at his father. Tears welled instantly and streamed down his cheeks. “Dad…”

Seventeen, maybe, the kid had a strong build for his age and smooth features.

“No,” Cochise hissed. “
Stay.”
He pointed his gun at the kid and motioned him into the entry hall.

“No…” Carlo whimpered, crying. “No…why did you come back?”

The kid didn’t answer as he moved cautiously around his father’s body and stood near his head.

“I-I don’t know anything else about the man,” Carlo choked. “I swear, I don’t…please don’t hurt my son…don’t make him watch this…please….”

Clint walked over and closed the door then returned to stand beside Cochise. The man was a loose cannon with a short fuse tonight. Clint looked at the boy. “Did you see his face, the man who took you?”

The kid shook his head, eyes wide and filling up again. “I…I was blindfolded.”

Clint’s chest heaved. “Cochise…”

The Egyptian’s body went rigid so suddenly that Clint didn’t have time to register his intentions. His gun was aimed and firing before Clint could stop him.

The kid’s head snapped back and he went down, dead by the time he hit the floor.

“
NO!”
Carlo screamed. Or was its Clint’s own cry? “
Gianni! Nooo!”

Clint stared in shock at the dead boy, and slowly shifted his wide eyes to Cochise who now had his weapon trained on Carlo. “An eye for an eye. One of yours…for one of ours.”

Carlo shook violently, crying uncontrollably. “Why? Why would you…? He was just a kid…he didn’t have anything to do with this…
Why?”

A darkness crept into the Egyptian’s eyes. “He was in the way,” he murmured with an empty tone. “Guess that makes him collateral damage.”

“He was just a kid,” Carlo cried and grabbed for his son’s body, grasping his hand and drawing it to his face. He pressed his palm to his cheek, sobs bursting up his throat, convulsing his body, his emotional pain overriding the physical.

“So was Shay,” Cochise whispered coldly. “A
kid
–not fucking
collateral damage!”

“Cochise!”

Gunfire echoed repeatedly as the Egyptian emptied his weapon into the man’s head and face. Clint turned away, a sickness twisting his guts. When he heard the dry click of the weapon, he slowly faced the man, his eyes on Cochise and not the carnage before them.

“What…” Clint stared at him, chest heaving and head spinning. “What the
fuck?”

Clint was slammed against the wall hard enough to rip the air from his lungs, his own weapon shoved hard under his jaw and the Egyptian’s seething face in his. “You fucking
butchered
two men for
almost
raping your little fuck toy!” he raged. “But the man who got
Shay killed
–and Cory
almost killed –
you were going to let
fucking live?
” He jerked the gun away and swung hard, nailing Clint in the jaw with the butt of the weapon.

Blackness swarmed his vision but he somehow managed to stay on his feet.

“This is your
fucking fault!
Shay is dead because of
you!
And Cory –he almost died on the
fucking
operating table! Why the
fuck
didn’t
you
have his back?”

Clint stared at him, his head throbbing. The man blurred before him.

Cochise grabbed Clint’s shirt and slammed him against the wall again. “Where were you while Shay was taking a
fucking bullet in the head?
With your cock
rammed
up that kid’s
ass?
He is a
fucking liability
that cost Shay his life, and nearly took Cory’s as well!” He stepped back, releasing Clint. “And where’s your fucking belt? That fucking
buckle
that you treat like a goddamn talisman. You’d cut off the fucking hand of anyone who just
looked
at it like they wanted to take it…and you just fucking
give it away?
No fucking prize in guessing to who.”

Clint straightened slowly, watching the man.

“You’ve fucking
slipped
,” Cochise hissed. “And your
slip
cost us more than your little fuck toy is worth.” He stabbed his finger at Clint. “You get your
fucking head
in the game –and
get rid
of that
fucking kid!
” His thick chest heaved, breath surging out his nostrils. He threw Clint’s gun on the floor and stepped toward the door. “You owe Shay and Cory
that
much.”

He left the house, slamming the door behind him. Clint leaned against the wall, his mind numb as he stared at Carlo Venetti’s dead son. Cochise felt vindicated for what he’d done. Now. But he would suffer for the choices he made here tonight. Whether it materialized externally or not…he would suffer.

The Egyptian had never taken a kid’s life before he chose Gianni Venetti to correct the imbalance caused by Shay’s death.

♦

The drive back to the hospital was completed in tense silence. Clint stared straight ahead without seeing anything that passed before them.

Shay is dead because of you.

Clint’s chest tightened.

Where were you while Shay was taking a fucking bullet in the head?

Clint shifted his empty stare to the side window but still wasn’t registering the city around them.

He is a fucking liability that cost Shay his life…and almost cost Cory his as well.

Swallowing hard, Clint felt the impact of the truth that each word carried with it. He’d had a bad feeling about this job,
knew
he needed to be the one at Cory’s back…and still he’d let him go because…

Because you wanted to be with Axel.

He closed his eyes and began to shut down his thoughts…his betraying emotions. Had he really believed he could stand with one boot in each world –without paying the consequences? Not just on this side of the barrier. Axel’s assault was an attack on Clint, he could feel it. His inability –
unwillingness?
–to face reality had cost a precious life and put others at risk.