His: Tony: The Sabatini Family by Fiona Murphy (sneezy the snowman read aloud TXT) 📕

“Simpson, and he owes Johnny fifty large.” Joseph shows me the screen of his phone. On it, is a picture of a skinny guy who looks like he’s been up for days on a bender. Black hair, eyes, and a scar on his right cheek. I nod once I’ve committed his face to memory.

“He thought his dad dying would net him a payday, so he borrowed against it. There were two insurance policies, but only one of them worth twenty grand was paid up. The rat bastard is going CI on Johnny with the hope something he gives the feds will buy him a new life. Johnny’s contact in the FBI says the guy hasn’t given them shit, but what he has given them could get them a phone tap if they went in front of the right judge. The contact is pushing for them to get the wrong judge. The right one is due back from vacation in two days. We need to ice him now.”

“How clean does this hit need to be, is what I’m trying to figure out. Johnny said make it look like a robbery, get his wallet, and put a bullet in him. With all the traffic on the street and cameras, I can’t do it without someone seeing something. I’m thinking I need to get into his place and hit him there. With the wife there, I’ll need to use a silencer. Which screams it’s a hit.” Closing my eyes, I focus on slowing my breathing. Touch the ice, breathe it in, let it wash over you. Exhale cold. Inhale colder.

The alert is loud. I don’t open my eyes. Joseph sighs with relief. “Johnny says do whatever needs to be done to keep him from talking.”

Joseph hands me a silencer. I take it and pull out my Sig P226 from my ankle holster. Threading on the silencer, I eye the quiet street. It’s almost eleven now, most of the lights are off inside the houses. Taking off my suit jacket and tie, I hand them to Joseph.

“You’re wearing your bulletproof shirt, right?” Joseph asks, always looking out for me.

Nodding, I undo the top two buttons. Without the silk jacket, also bulletproof, I don’t stick out quite as much if someone were to glance my way. The shirt is dark blue and won’t catch the light. All my clothes are cut to fit—they have to be. Even if they weren’t made to be bulletproof, my measurements are not off the rack.

I take off my watch and hand it to Joseph. The gold Rolex attracts too much attention. I would have long ago gone with a less flashy watch, except it was a gift from Dominic—bought with his first big payday. Anytime I considered changing it out, I remembered his pride when he gave it to me and couldn’t bring myself to take it off.

“Boss, he should be leaving the restaurant now. It only takes him about ten minutes to get home.” Vito warns me as he hands me my leather gloves, made for me and always worn for hits like this.

“Give me fifteen,” I mutter as I get out of the car, putting on the gloves.

Hands in my pockets, I make my way down the street to the home of the hit. It takes three minutes for me to get inside. There are fences on both sides of the property but not the front. Head down, I go around the back. As usual, Joseph’s description of the way in is spot on. I pull my Adamas knife from around my forearm and use it to get the door open. In less than thirty seconds, I’m in. Slithering into the quiet, unlit kitchen, I close the back door without a sound. I shut my eyes, count to twenty, then open them—orienting my eyes to the low light.

Making my way down the hallway, I pause outside the closed door of what is easily the bedroom as there is an open door to a bathroom across from it. My hope is she sleeps through it all. I don’t want to kill her, but if she wakes up and finds me, then I have to.

There is a lamp on in the living room. I find a spot and wait.

Less than five minutes later, movement outside the window catches my eye. Pulling my gun, I point it at the floor and wait. At the snick of the key in the lock, I flick off the safety. He opens the door. His hand goes out to the light switch. The lights go on, he sees me. All the air goes out of him. But he doesn’t look surprised.

“Hi, Frank.”

He opens his mouth. I don’t let him talk. I pull the trigger, center mass in the chest. Interesting, he goes face down instead of on his back. Whatever way he lands, it doesn’t matter. I move over him and finish him with a second shot to the back of his head. His body barely jerks from the impact. A glance back down the quiet hallway, nothing. I unthread the silencer and step over his body. Dropping the silencer in my left pocket, I bend down to return my gun to the holster on my ankle. I’m out the door sixty seconds after he entered through it.

As I walk back up the street, there is no movement from the houses along the way. I’m back in the Escalade. Joseph hands me back my watch. It’s been less than ten minutes since I left the car. I strap it back on, then reach for my gun and the silencer and hand both to him. He’ll dispose of them tonight.

“Call Johnny, tell him it’s done.”

Joseph nods.

I close my eyes as the ice floats away.

Fifteen minutes later, Vito stops. “Home, Boss. You want some company?”

Shaking my head, I open the door and slide out.

I unlock the wrought iron gate around my home, then make my way up the wide steps of the porch.