Dark Soul Vol. 5 (4 page)

What?
Bastard.
“No.” Silvio was surprised how that one word shut Stefano up. “I chose you myself. Battista knew I wanted you. We never were monogamous, but he figured since I was interested in you, it would be easier for him to get rid of me.”
What else do you want?

Stefano winced, lifted his hands, dropped them as if about to grapple with something and then reminding himself to be calm and not shout. “Okay. Then what do you feel?”

Silvio shrugged. “I can live with that.”

“That’s not an answer.” Stefano grabbed him by the shoulders, his passion now tinged with anger, desperation. He was extremely sexy like that, and Silvio enjoyed watching him struggle for his calm.

It was a losing battle, but Stefano fought it every time. Still, it was likely that Stefano would eventually come to his senses and walk away. The great sex—and it
was
great, not just good, even if it was pretty vanilla—would simply become a memory when he returned to his wife.

But Silvio had gone through all this before. Plenty of conquests, many of them married or partnered, and none had lasted. It wasn’t like he hadn’t looked before Stefano; it had been only a matter of time until Battista kicked him out of his bed. But they all had moved on with their lives. Besides, thinking beyond the current day didn’t make sense, not when living and breathing could be ended so easily.

When had he stopped making any kind of plans for the future? Not that he’d ever been good at it.

You die tonight, Spadaro.

He’d stopped making plans when Diego had caught him out.

Maybe Stefano talked of commitment because he felt indebted for the killing. Silvio shook his head. “You’ve got no obligation to me.”

“I
want
that obligation. That’s what commitment’s about. You . . .

cast your lot with another person, you care about them, you suffer when they suffer . . .”

Oh, he’s bringing on some real romance now.
“That would weaken you.”

“Shit, Silvio, I don’t care. I can be weak. That’s okay. I felt pretty fucking weak when those Russians fucked me up, okay? It . . . I’m over it. You were there for me. I won’t forget that. But it’s not just that.” Stefano tightened his grip on Silvio’s arms. “I desire you. I have a hell of a lot of respect for you. I want to protect you, and I want to give you all I have. All I can. But I need to know you’re open to that.

That you’re capable of that. You were, clearly, with Gianbattista. Can you be the same for me?”

It couldn’t possibly be the same thing. Dominance aside, Stefano was nothing like Battista. Silvio frowned. Stefano was begging.

He was also completely genuine. On the way back to his wife, but completely honest. “How would that be different from now?”

Stefano’s grip tightened even more, then he released Silvio’s arms.

Silvio’s skin tingled where Stefano’s fingers had dug into the muscle.

Stefano took a step back, and his gaze was steady. “Maybe I just want to hear that you love me, too.”

“That more important to you than killing for you?”

“Yeah.” Stefano snorted, half incredulous, half embarrassed. “It’s not the same. Shit, you killed people for me because you love me?

Really?”

Silvio reached for him and kissed him again. “Same thing.” That should be enough. The sooner they could skip this awkward part, the better. He still had a job to do, so he turned away to get his jacket. “I’ll just stop by the bungalow to get a gun. I don’t trust Viero.”

“For Chrissakes.” Stefano blew out an irritated breath. “Fine.

Take a gun. He
has
been an ass lately. He’s challenging me.”

“You figure this is a trap?”

“I don’t think so, but be careful.”

“Where does Viero want to meet?”

Stefano went back to his computer and gave him the address.

Silvio typed it into his phone and brought up the map. “Good access.

I’ll be in and out with no problem.”

“I’ll tell Augusto you’re coming, but not when.”

“Thanks.” Silvio dressed in his leather suit. “I’ll get the bike.”

“Call me when you’re there.”

“Yes.” Silvio reached over to get the helmet, already itching to be on the road. “Shouldn’t be long.”

“After that, come to the house.” Stefano looked worried and nervous as he fiddled the buttons on his shirt cuffs closed. Looked like he was already getting ready for the confrontation with Donata.

Maybe that would stop him from being so tense and looking so guilty when he was enjoying himself, whichever way that battle went.

“You think that’s wise?”

“It’s a terrible idea, but it’s the last option I have, short of trying to keep running from it.”

“Gotcha. I’ll be there.” Silvio would have reached out for another kiss, but it seemed too much like goodbye to him.

Silvio walked in through the back door of the building at the address Stefano had given him. A flat-roofed cheap prefab as sparse as it was ugly. The steel door was open; inside, food processing equipment was everywhere, restricting his line of sight. Good that he’d left the helmet out back with the bike. He followed voices to the left—this place looked like it had been shut down recently, likely due to the bad economy everybody kept bitching about.

Four men sitting on crates, two of them smoking. The oldest was Augusto Viero, and the others were Italians too, so most likely
capos
or made men, Viero’s al ies. They looked up when he walked into unprotected space. One pointed him out to Viero.

“Ah, Spadaro.” Viero stood and tossed his cigarette on the ground, then pulverized the stub under his heel. “Boss got no time for us, eh?”

“He does. He sent me.”

“Okay.” Viero grinned. “Busy man. Can’t fault him for not showing up at a place like this.”

Silvio looked around. “Where’s the body?”

Viero scowled. “All right. Come.”

Silvio glanced at the other three, who seemed reluctant or undecided about whether to follow him or not.

“It’s okay, you guys keep an eye open,” Viero said. “Come, let’s go.”

Viero led him further into the building, through what looked like a cleaned-out office, down a corridor. “Not sure what we need a
sicario
of your skills and experience here for, but, sure.”

Further down the narrow corridor. No doors left or right, so this wasn’t an ambush. But ambush or not, he couldn’t allow Viero to get the better of him. This was Viero’s turf and Viero’s men outside, and Silvio kept that calm and clear mind that Battista had taught him: aware, relaxed, and ready to strike on pure instinct. So far, that had kept him alive.

“How much do you charge for a kill anyway, Silvio? Your father was highly-paid.”

Oh, we’re on to business now.
“He was.”

“So, how much do you charge?”

As if starting negotiations with a hooker.
“Depends on the work.

Difficulty. Heat. And who’s asking.”

Viero grinned at him. “That Russian hit wasn’t cheap, eh?”

Silvio gave him a stare; Viero was unable to hold that gaze. He made it look good, casual, like he really needed to look at that heavy door when he opened it, but that was bullshit. “Yes. More expensive than the boss thought.”
I did take his desire, his passion, his love in
exchange.

“Damn. I do wonder, could I afford you?” Had to be something special if he wasn’t asking somebody in his own crew. Or something that could never be known. An extremely political hit, most likely against the rules. Another made man, without authorization from the involved boss or bosses.

“Mid-five figures. Fifty grand, give or take, for one body. I can do my own disposal.”

“That’s not too bad.” Viero studied him, but then looked away again. That was the normal response he got: that unnerved checking out and then quickly moving on. “I mean, you’re a freelancer without loyalties, right?”

Ah. Viero was aiming at Stefano. “I’m loyal to
Il Gentiluomo
.”

“Ah, yes, your mentor. Godfather, right? He and your father were close, weren’t they?”

Was that really what Viero believed? At some point, they had been, of course, but Silvio was in no mood to teach Viero any different.

He could believe that if he wanted. “The body. Where is it?”

“Sure. It’s not a pretty sight.”

“I want pretty, I go to a strip club.”

Viero snickered and pushed the final door open. Behind it was a large freezer, with some pigs dangling from hooks in metal rails. In a corner, crates that were probably contraband. Something about the pigs . . . Silvio glanced back and noticed the pig in the far corner had very long limbs and a less solid torso.

Human.

“Yeah, he’s over there. Poor bastard. Hanging out with the pigs.”

Viero laughed. “Not great company.”

Silvio stepped closer, deeper into the cold, noted where Viero was standing and made sure the man didn’t get behind him.

The body was naked and partially skinned. Front, back, shoulders and part of the upper arms. The blood had frozen in places, ice crystals making it look like erratically dried paint. Black frost. Silvio walked around the body, noting the cuts. Large knife, definitely wielded by somebody who knew how to skin an animal. “Who’s he?”

“Daniele Rossi. He’s a made man, member of my crew. He vanished just after the Russians went boom. I mean, great work that.

Loved the concept. Great execution. You’re really gifted.”

Flattery won’t get you anywhere.
“Member of your crew, and you didn’t notice he was gone?”

“I thought he might have gotten cold feet, you know. With everything going on . . .” Viero shrugged. “Can be easy to lose track.”

Silvio didn’t look anymore at the body. He’d seen everything he’d needed to see. “You a hunter, Augusto?”

“Me? No.” Augusto’s voice held a sudden, nervous undercurrent.

Silvio nodded. “Me neither. So you can’t tell me more about the execution?”

“Well, I did ask my boys. The guys out there?” At his nod, Viero added, “They say he was tortured. The boss mentioned that his kidnappers were ex-soldiers. Apparently, this shit here, this skinning gig, is done by Russian soldiers in whatever shithole they fight in.

Call it the ‘T-shirt.’” He laughed. “I mean, it does look like a fucking T-shirt, right? So they snatched Daniele off the street and tortured the shit out of him. Skinned him alive like that.”

“Yes, that’s what it looks like.”
Kind of.

Augusto relaxed just a tiny bit. “Yeah, that’s what we worked out.

Looks like that war isn’t over. People are still dying.”

“True.” Silvio considered the black ice crystals, the pattern of the cuts in the subcutaneous fat. Clean and controlled, the skin barely frayed or ripped. “You figure they put the body here as a warning?”

“Yeah, they know where we are.”

How convenient.
“This your place?”

“Not mine. It’s owned by an associate. There’s no direct connection.”

“Good.” Silvio glanced back at the human corpse. “Take him off the hooks and destroy the body. Can’t have the news spread. Make sure your guys don’t talk about it.”

“Nobody’s gonna say a word.”

“Good. They’ll need a good leader now.” Silvio remained standing in the room. In his leathers, he wasn’t going to get cold any time soon, but Augusto was starting to look uncomfortable, rubbing his hands and all but stomping his feet. “I’ll tell the boss that whoever did this knows a lot about him and us now.”

“Just asking, Silvio, just in case, but are you, what, part of this now?”

“I’m a freelancer.”

“You going to stick around?”

“Maybe. Seems there’s a job open for bodyguard. Seems it’s needed, too.”

Augusto shuddered in the cold and glanced at the door, but Silvio ignored the unspoken request. “Might be a good gig for you. Vince was a good one, but I figure he’s not coming back for a while, and with this new development . . .”

“Yeah.”

“Gives you a lot of access, too. Simple enough, to make some permanent decisions. You seem like a decisive young man. People say you’re as good as your father was. You know, considering the whole situation, I think this place needs some good, strong, decisive leadership and some good people who can solve problems. I don’t believe in waiting things out.” Viero looked at him fully now, eyes narrowed as if he had to concentrate very hard to keep that stare up.

“Do you understand what I mean?”

Flattery and treating him like an idiot at the same time. Silvio nodded. “That’s a quarter of a million.”

Viero whistled. “Yeah, considering the nature of the beast, that’s probably not overcharging, either.”

“It’s not just one; it’s everybody who’ll kick up a fuss. That’s another war. Quarter mil, and we’re in business. Want me to take care of the wife?”

Viero shook his head. “No women.”

Silvio considered that for a moment, but had to admit he couldn’t see Donata taking revenge with a gun. And short of shooting the
capos
, there was very little she could do but run back to her family or pretend she knew nothing, play the
Cosa Nostra
widow, and take condolences from the same men who’d plotted to murder her husband. “What about the loyal
capos
?”

“Me and the others are going to take care of them. You might have to help.”

Silvio shrugged. “When?”

“Just get ready.”

Always ready, even for the unexpected.
Silvio turned and pointed at the door. “After you.”

Viero actually did turn his back, and for a moment, what flashed across Silvio’s mind was an image of Viero strung up like that other pig. It was so clear, so powerful that he had to remind himself he wouldn’t get quite that much undisturbed time with Viero.

Ah, Spadaro. Now we’ll have some quality time together. I know
you can’t wait.

Silvio rolled his shoulders to dislodge the sense of Diego watching from somewhere inside the freezer.

Besides, killing Viero would solve none of the problems. The mutiny was already in full swing. At this stage, any action or suspicion could trigger it. He’d have to tread extremely softly from now on.