I eye him, then lower my beer and twist off the top. “Good.”
As much as I’m still pissed, I believe him. And it’ll be up to Valentine to decide whether she forgives him.
Nero moves to lean against the counter next to King. “So how about you finally clue us in on what’s going on? Why do you suddenly need the help of The Alliance?”
This is the whole reason this all started, so I tell them.
I explain how each man has been hit. How someone is targeting my family without leaving behind any calling cards. How the cowards are coming onto my turf, and how I’m going to make them pay.
“I can handle Chicago,” I tell them. “But when we find the man behind this, I’m going to need backup. Because it’s not a local. I’m not sure if the person behind this is even in this fucking country. But we’re close. And when I get a name, I’m going to wipe them from the face of the earth.”
Nero takes a pull of beer. “Sounds fun.”
“I’ll admit, I’m looking forward to it.”
“How close are you to finding them?” King asks me.
In answer, my phone dings with an incoming text.
I slide my phone out of my pocket and look at the text from the unknown number.
“Just got closer.”
Living Room Guy told me his handler’s name. I knew there’d be no contact for him in the phone, but this text is him.
Unknown: Check in
I open the message and click to add an attachment.
Me: sends photo of the dead man with his chest caved in
Me: You had my attention, Casey.
Me: And now I have yours.
I open a different chat and make sure my men back home saw that he messaged.
Rather than worrying about the hitters’ phones being traced, I just had them cloned to this untraceable one. There’s no guarantee we’ll find Casey through this text, but we’re already halfway to nailing down his location.
I move back to the chat with Casey, but he hasn’t replied. And I doubt he will.
Hopefully he’s too busy shitting himself.
“What’s that?” Nero asks, suddenly at my side, pointing to the photo I sent.
“A dead guy.”
“No shit, dumbass. Let me see.” He holds out his hand, and I set the phone in it.
Nero sets his beer on the kitchen island so he can use both hands to zoom in on the photo.
Then he holds the phone closer to his face.
“Need a minute to borrow King’s bifocals?” I snort.
“Fuck off.” Nero’s face is still close to the phone screen. “You’re a year older than I am.”
“Sure.” I take a long drink of my beer. “But clearly my vision is better.”
“I don’t wear bifocals,” King mutters, but it’s lacking heat because they’re now both bent over my phone, looking at the corpse of Shower Guy.
King straightens to look at me. “What did you hit him with?”
“Yeah.” Nero moves the photo from side to side, still zoomed in, like he’s looking for clues on the floor. “There’s no blood under him, just in that hole.” He points to the spot just left of the man’s sternum. “So it’s not like you used a bazooka on him. That would’ve gone through.”
“Sometimes you just gotta stick with the classics,” I tell them, then slide the brass knuckles out of my pocket.
King’s brows raise. “Seriously? Who even has brass knuckles anymore?”
Nero reaches out and takes them from me, sliding them onto his own hand, then looking back down at the photo. “So you put these on, then wallop the dude in the sternum until what, the ribs crack off and into his heart?”
“Someone knows his biology.”
Nero clenches his fist around the knuckles. “I know how to kill people.”
“What a surprise,” I deadpan.
Nero grunts. “Can I keep these?”
“Fuck no.” I open and close my hand in a gimme gesture. “Your slender little fingers don’t even fill it out properly.”
King snorts.
“Slender?” Nero rears back, offended. “Just because I don’t have big-ass sausage fingers doesn’t mean mine are slender. You fat fuck.”
King laughs this time.
I just shake my head. “Jealousy is an ugly color on you, Nero.”
I’m far from fat, and Nero is far from little, but I’m the thickest guy here.
Nero grumbles something under his breath as he pulls the brass knuckles off his fingers and slaps them into my hand.