Chapter 7 Bruno
brUNO
Tracking the mysterious woman down was a challenge, but luckily, the Triad already had information I could use. Once they presented me with her phone number, it wasn’t hard to track her location and wait to catch her alone.
She kicks out her legs and manages a soft cry of alarm until my hand is over her mouth, muffling all of her noises.
It’s not the first time I’ve killed someone and surely won’t be the last, but I’m rusty.
Snatching someone off the street in broad daylight isn’t the smartest move, but hopefully, the obscene randomness of it will work in my favor.
I just need to get her behind the trash can and shoot her. Quick and clean.
Exactly what she deserves for kneeing me so hard in the balls last night.
Her legs fly out and her feet seek purchase on anything nearby, so I guide my stumbling steps to stop her gaining a foothold to use against me.
Tightening my arm across her middle, I use my weight to force her deeper into the alley until the bustling engines and passing horns of the busy New York City streets become soft background noise.
The perfect score to accompany a back alley murder.
Her teeth catch on my middle finger, but I rip my hand away before she can tear a chunk of my flesh out.
She yells in anger, but it trails off into a pained whimper as I throw her as hard as I can against the wall.
With no way to support herself, she almost falls, but she’s fast and the woman quickly throws a punch in my direction.
Her knuckles glance across my ribs as I narrowly sidestep and throw my elbow back into her face.
It hits, sending her head back against the wall with an audible crack.
She sags forward, but rather than attacking me with the same fervor as last night, she goes on the defensive and wraps one arm around her ribs to protect herself.
Wait…
Something’s different.
She’s not as fast or as strong as she was last night.
She’s weaker. Slower. Experience in prison warns me against believing such a display as hesitation.
It’s how I ended up with a shank between my ribs and three weeks in the med bay.
She could be tricking me into lowering my guard, so I surge forward and pin her to the wall with my arm across her shoulders and my gun pressing against the soft, exposed skin of her waist.
She glares at me with fire blazing in her eyes and blood trickling from the corner of her lip where my elbow cut that soft, red flesh. “Go on, then,” she snarls with bloody teeth. “What are you waiting for?”
“Is that it?” I joke breathlessly. “All the fight is gone?”
Her dark brows knit together briefly and her eyes dart about my face, then the shadow of recognition follows as a surge of angry drivers blare their horns at one another in the distance.
“You.”
“So you do recognize me.”
“Maybe.”
I should kill her right here, right now. But something is stopping me. “Surprised it took you so long.”
She slams her knee into my crotch before I can say anything else and I stumble away from her as my balls ricochet up into my fucking throat.
Tears of pain spring into my eyes and a strong pull of nausea stretches like taffy through my gut, followed by a pulse of weakness that sends my gun slipping from my fingers.
Holy shit.
She’s got boney fucking knees and I think she just popped one of my balls.
No matter how often I get kicked in the nuts, there’s no getting used to this pain.
Seeing her advantage, she surges toward me with fists flying, but I take a defensive approach this time while trying to get the tears out of my eyes and my testicles back where they belong.
She tries to punch me and I dodge. She runs at me and I sidestep. What blows she does land are softer and I do everything in my power to stop us from seriously hurting one another because she’s clearly injured. That was me, wasn’t it? Last night.
She’d been like a firecracker thrown into a bonfire and I hadn’t thought much about how badly I hurt her, but seeing it now, plain as day, makes me feel guilty.
Fuck knows why. I don’t do guilt.
“Come on!” She yells after her fifth punch fails to land. “What the fuck are you playing at?”
We stumble to a halt, panting, and remain on opposite sides of the alley. “What, are you bored?”
“Don’t give me that shit,” she snarls. “You piece of shit. You attack me, drag me down, and press a gun to me and now, what, you can’t take a punch?
Motherfucker!” She surges at me again, and while her knuckles collide painfully with my jaw, I’m mostly able to sidestep and we switch alley sides.
My gun lies on the ground several feet away.
There’s no way I can get to it without her reacting.
“Listen,” I gasp, still tasting my balls at the base of my throat. “It’s just business.”
“Business?” She straightens up but clearly still favors one side of her body. “I don’t fucking know you. We don’t have business.”
“Not directly,” I reply. “But the Triad want you dead.”
She wears her anger like a glowing badge of honor, and I watch her muscles coil, ready for another strike until she registers my words and hesitates. Her eyes dart up and down me and she frowns. “You don’t look like Triad.”
“Looks can be deceiving.”
“Bullshit. Triad are like family.”
“Sure.” She’s not wrong. I learned that pretty swiftly in prison after a broken jaw. “But they accept outside help when it suits.” Also a good lesson from inside.
“Why?” She demands. “I’ve never even crossed paths with the Triad.” She straightens up suddenly and barely conceals a wince. “They don’t even operate in New York.”
“They do.” I sag back against the brick wall, finally catching my breath since she doesn’t seem ready to tear my throat out anymore. “They’re just quiet.”
I can see the gears turning behind her eyes as she searches her thoughts and memories for when she could have gotten onto the Triad’s radar, never mind in their crosshairs. An answer I can’t provide since I’m just supposed to kill her.
Instead, I’m here talking to her and unable to put my finger on why. Every single time she breathes in and her lower lip tightens with a pull of pain, guilt warms my gut. Is this because of Mary? One visit from her and she’s softened me up.
Fuck.
“Who are you?” she asks suddenly. “And why the fuck are you trying to kill me?”
“I’m not trying,” I say, cautiously easing my thighs apart to adjust to the painful throbbing between my legs. “I’m still going to. This is just a slow simmer buildup.”
Her eyes dart down to my crotch and she lifts one brow. “Really.”
“Really.” I nod quickly. “My name is Bruno.”
“Bruno what?”
“Del Prete.”
She’s in the process of stepping forward when she freezes and her sparkling, angry eyes narrow to slits. “Del Prete?”
“Yup.”
“As in Domenico Del Prete?”
“My one and only father.” Unfortunately.
“Father? Shit, I didn’t know he had a son. Since when do the Italians work with the fucking Triads?”
“It’s a long story.”
“Is that why you were there last night spying on my business?” One hand moves to her hip and rests there while the arm closest to her injured ribs remains loose by her side, ready to protect at a moment's notice.
“Spying is such an ugly word.” Each moment that passes eases the pain and I straighten up. “I’m protecting my interests.”
“Bullshit.” She steps forward once. “The Irish and the Italians have had an alliance for years and now you’re telling me that you’re Domenico’s son and you’ve been spying on us? And you’re trying to kill me because of the fucking Triads? You’re not protecting anything.”
Shit. I didn’t know she was Irish. It’s obvious in her accent now that she’s actually talking and not barking hatred at me, but they gave me absolutely no information on her. I had no idea.
“It’s not what you think.”
“Then you have ten seconds to tell me exactly what this is or you’ll have to kill me.”
“Or what?”
“Or I’ll drag the truth out of Rocky. Hell, I bet even his father Matteo will have a sit down with me about this.”
“Wait—”
“Tell me what the fuck you’re playing at.”
“I don’t know you.”
“You know me well enough to try and kill me!”
“It’s not like that.” This situation is unraveling faster than I can control. What was supposed to be an easy assassination has turned into something much messier, and even though I’ve been in prison for the past fourteen years, I know the Irish reputation. Killing her would be a death sentence.
“Then I don’t give a shit,” she snaps heatedly.
“Next time you try and kill me, you'd better fucking commit.” The fire is back in her eyes and that sharp tone cuts with the force of a real blade. In a half-second, she’s sprinting toward my discarded weapon and I have no choice but to tackle her to the ground.
We land in a heap and her pained grunt cuts through me like a hot knife, making me hesitate.
She uses this to her advantage by rolling over and smacking her palm up against my jaw.
I briefly see stars and narrowly avoid another blow to the balls by rolling away.
I only make it a foot before she’s standing over me with her boot pressed against my chest and my gun in her hands.
Aiming right between my eyes.
“Bastard,” she snarls.
“Wait! Please, wait, it's not what you think!” I beg quickly, throwing both my hands up as if they can do anything to protect against an incoming bullet. “Human trafficking!”
She hesitates, her brows lifting. “Wh… Excuse me?”
“I… listen, I was in prison, alright? And while I was in there, the Triads helped me so I kinda sorta owe them. But I also heard them talking a lot about the black market and human trafficking while also using my father’s name as if it were some kind of currency, okay?
” The words pour from me like vomit, jumbling over one another in a desperate attempt to escape before this woman ends my life.
“So when I got out, I started looking into things because I think someone is trying to frame him and whoever that is clearly has big plans for what will happen when he falls. I’ve been tracking some missing shipments, some drugs and guns that have vanished off our books with no trace.
That’s all! That’s why I was there last night, because that warehouse had three missing drug piles and I didn’t know you were Irish!
I’m trying to get in with the Triad and they called me and asked me to kill someone, that’s it! ”
The gun clicks and I screw up my eyes waiting for the inevitable shot.
It doesn’t come.
Suddenly, the weight of her foot is gone from my chest. I crack open one eye and she’s standing a few feet away, dismantling my weapon into pieces and tossing it bit by bit into the nearby trash can.
Holy shit.
“I don’t know if I’m more amused that you just screamed human trafficking at me or that you spilled everything so quickly.”
“How else was I going to get you to not shoot me?” I reply with a burst of quiet, nervous laughter. Climbing slowly to my feet, I don’t take my eyes off her. “So… does this mean we’re at a truce?”
“My name is Saoirse, by the way,” she says, tossing the last of my gun into the trash and turning to face me. “Since you’re in the habit of trying to kill people you don’t know. Get a name next time.”
“What can I say, it’s been a while. Back then, a picture was enough.”
She snorts softly and rubs her knuckles against her left temple. “You think someone is trying to frame your father?”
“I’m certain.”
She nods slowly. “We’re looking for the same thing, to an extent. Tell me more about this human trafficking?”
“The Triad have their fingers in a lot of honey pots. I heard a bunch of talk about black market dolls. That Del Prete was supplying and buying. I thought it was drugs at first until I made a friend and they told me dolls is slang for people. And my father, he would never be involved in such garbage. So I think someone is using his name for clout and power to do something really fucking shady. All I have to go on is—”
“Missing drugs and guns,” she finishes for me. “Hmm.”
“So we’re after the same thing?”
“I…” Her eyes meet mine and while the distrust is clear, she nods. “I’ve been looking into a few things and they might be connected, yeah.”
“Well, why don’t we work together?”
“Because you tried to kill me,” she snaps.
“And you nearly shot me, so I’d say we’re even.”
Her gaze lingers on me for a long minute and when she sighs, it seems to deflate her a little. “If our situations are connected, then maybe it would be wise. If trafficking is resurfacing, I need to make sure there isn’t a single Irish root connected to this mess.”
“Soooo…” I wander closer and smirk softly. “We work together?”
Saoirse’s eyes narrow and her button nose wrinkles upward. “Temporarily. Fine. But only to end this as quickly as possible before these rumors damage more than your balls.” She winces. “And my ribs.”
So I did hurt her. Shit. Why do I feel as bad as when I pushed Mary on the swing and she flipped off like a limp fish?
“So, we’re good?”
She briefly glares at me. “We’re wobbly, but let me make one thing clear, Bruno. If you try to fuck me over or I get even a single hint that you’re up to something I don’t like? I’ll kill you. And I’ll be smiling as I do it.”