I didn’t want to talk about them. I didn’t want to think about either of them right then. I was too damn mad, and losing my mind wouldn’t help. Not yet anyway.
I handed him the spliff and let him light up. Figured it was the least I could do.
“So where are the Balestras hanging out these days? I don’t see them in the usual haunts anymore.”
“They set up shop in Monte Vista. Decided to leave Five Points behind.”
I let out a breath. Monte Vista was the nice part of town. Typical that Balestra would go there, with his fancy suits and shining cars. The piece of shit. Five Points had been the heart of the Falsone crime family’s power for two generations, and it had been slowly revitalizing from all the money flowing through the streets. Now it’d crumble back to dust soon enough.
Shame. I shouldn’t have cared. It wasn’t my home. Never had been. I lived everywhere in this city and nowhere at all.
“Why’s that?”
“Rebranding, I think. They got this big, old house on Margrave Street. Like a fucking palace.” Dario laughed, sucked in a big hit, and coughed it all out. “Shit, man, this stuff is unbelievable. I knew I missed you and Carmine.”
I showed my teeth again. He shouldn’t have mentioned that name. Dario, Dario, Dario. The stupid, thick bastard. He’d been one of Placido Falsone’s guards and a good earner back in the day. He’d been only one of two people to walk away alive that night from the Falsone side. But not many folks knew about the second guy.
Before I’d taken the fall and done my time, Carmine and I used to run the streets. We’d bring in good shipments from across the border and sell it all over the city. Dario and the other guys had laughed and joked, but they’d always bought our weed and never complained. Good to see he hadn’t changed.
“How’d it go down?” I asked, leaning against the wall behind me. He passed the spliff. I pretended to take a hit and passed it back.
“You want the fucking details?” He frowned at me. “Wasn’t pretty. You know how it is. You’ve been to a few hits before. That’s what I hear anyway.”
He was right. I had been to a few hits. “I need to know.”
“Trust me, kid. Carmine’s gone. Placido’s gone. You don’t need them anymore.”
“Tell me, Dario.”
He must’ve heard something in my tone. He looked away, down at the ground. “There’s not much to say. Balestra’s guys rolled in hard and fast. Came at night, stormed the compound. Killed everyone. Lots of gunfire and blood. Carmine put up a fight, yeah? But he was just one kid. You’d be proud of him.”
I was proud of my best friend. Always had been.
That was why I had to murder this man.
“How come you walked when nobody else did?”
He shrugged and passed the spliff. “Played dead.”
“Yeah? That’s all. You just got lucky?”
“Lucky, yeah. That’s how it goes sometimes.” He was getting edgy. He moved away, toward the alley entrance. “Thanks for the weed, kid. But I got to get going. I got a girl. Did I mention her yet?”
I gripped the baton tucked into my belt and pulled it out. It was one of those black things that telescoped out and had a wicked metal ball at the tip. I’d loved my old one, back before I went away. I had a new one now and needed to break her in.
Dario took a step back and threw up his hands. I faked with the baton, then jabbed him in the gut with my free hand. He grunted and doubled over, exposing the back of his skull.
I brought that tip down into the back of his head hard enough to break concrete. The bones on the back of his skull cracked, and he dropped to the ground face-first with a grunt. He hit the blacktop hard.
I bashed his head again. And again. And again. I hit him until his brains showed through and I knew he was dead. I hit him again, until he stopped breathing. I made sure that rotten piece of shit never saw the sun.
Like my best friend never would.
I stood over his corpse, breathing hard. I used his shirt to wipe off the baton and folded it back up. I shoved it into my belt and backed away from the body. I didn’t want to leave footprints.
I looked down at myself. My hands shook. I had blood splattered on my jeans.
One name off my list. Six more to go.
Dario hadn’t been important. He’d been one man among many that night. He hadn’t even realized others had walked away unscathed, just like him. Another guard that had turned a blind eye. Another traitor that had chosen cash over loyalty and family.