Nicola blinked fast, tears welling, then looked down. Her feet were planted on the weed-pocked parking lot. She was still standing. Small accomplishments were amazing at times like this. The stars faded from her watering eyes just in time to focus on Antilla. Rage boiled across his face.

“No. No. No.” David lifted his hands. “It wasn’t me. I told you I worked with the Gianori—”

“The Gianori mob doesn’t need my ammunition or arms. I do not sell to them. They do not move my product.” Antilla took a step toward David, who shrank into himself. “Tell me again about the Gianori mob.”

“Sorry. S-orr-y.” David’s voice shook. “I meant to say that I hired them to build and plant the bombs.”

“And why would they do that for you, David? Give me a logical reason why,” Antilla growled. “Now.”

“Because…”

“Because they also wanted Nicola. Am I correct? You mentioned she could be leverage for another project. The Gianori mob wants her? You had no intention of leaving her with me?”

“I, uh… I figured if you finished with her, they could have a go at her. Both of you wanted retribution. Offing her family would do that…” David’s teeth chattered as he stammered in rhetorical circles.

“Am I stupid, David?”

“No, sir.”

“But you played games with me?”

“Not games. But I thought you’d appreciate the Gianoris taking out her family. You always say bloodshed requires equal or more blood. Her parents for your brother.”

“And you stole from me?”

“I didn’t. It wasn’t much. Throwaways. Please. Please, let me explain.”

“But above all, you thought you could deceive me?” Antilla laughed loudly and evilly. He looked at the driver. “Shoot him.”

David fumbled for his concealed, wetting himself and moaning more explanations. A single pop and David coughed up blood. That throat shot would take several seconds to finish him off. Nicola watched blood gurgle and sputter as his hands tried to close off the wound.

Seconds later, it was over. David’s crimson-lacquered fingers remained near his neck.

“Check her for concealeds,” Antilla directed the driver, who was quickly proving to be very adept at several things: chauffeuring, bleed outs, and pat downs. Her ankle-holstered .38 was removed as well as the knife tucked into the back of her pants. “And get her inside.”

The driver manhandled her through the door. If Cash’d seen that subcompact at her back and the unfriendly shove, there was a solid chance the driver was going to die tonight.

Despite David’s murder, Nic wasn’t as nervous as before. The fear was gone. She was stone-cold ready to work. Her backup was a sniper extraordinaire, and somehow, he’d get eyes on them. Hopefully, he’d heard everything.

Antilla walked to a far corner to make a phone call and started talking. Sweet Jesus, she’d knocked out the phone jammer, and Antilla was too preoccupied to worry about it. The driver walked outside, most likely to remove David.