And I had every right to tell her to fuck off. “You’re not coming,” I said. “End of story.”
“Boss,” Stefano said, but I glared at him, and he shut his mouth.
“I’m coming,” Ash said softly, still looking at me. “Stuart’s doing this to me, not to you.”
“Tell that to my bullet wound,” I said.
“You know what I mean,” she said through clenched teeth. “He wants to get at me. And I want revenge.”
I held her gaze for a second. The girl might’ve been a rich, spoiled princess, but she had bigger balls than some of my soldiers. She was a raging storm, all lightning and thunder and hail, liable to tear anything in her path to little pieces.
The problem was, she didn’t know it yet. She was still stuck in her rich-girl paradigm. She grew up being told what to do and how to act, and now that she didn’t have her mommy and daddy around whispering in her ear and keeping in her check, she seemed cut adrift.
This might be good for her then. Show her what she’s made up of.
“Fine,” I said. “Nobody stays behind. We’re all in this.”
“Great,” Tomaso said. “Now can we get in there? I’ve been looking forward to this all day.”
I grinned at the young soldier and opened my door. It was late, a little past three in the morning, and the block was dead. Old City was the richest neighborhood in Philadelphia, with some truly ancient colonial houses and legitimate history tucked around every corner.
I didn’t give a shit about the dead though. I was here to terrorize the living.
Stefano, Ash, and Tomaso hurried to keep up as I walked across the street and down the block. Stuart’s office had a door in the corner, recessed slightly back from the street. We walked up the stoop and I stood to the side, watching out for cops and drunks, as Stefano got to work.
“I learned this when I was three years old,” Stefano said, taking a lock pick set out and slipping it into the door. “My daddy said, boy, you’re going to be real dumb, but at least you’ll be useful.”
“He’s lying,” I said, squinting down the block. Everything was quiet. Not a single car in sight. “His father was a drunk.”
“Still taught me,” Stefano said.
“I wish I had real skills like that,” Ash said. “Maybe you can teach me.”
I groaned. “Don’t give him the chance. He’ll never shut up about it.”
“The boss is jealous of my touch,” Stefano said and I heard him jingling the picks around. “He’s too clumsy, you know? Smart as anyone, I’ll tell you what, but Gian’s more about the big picture, and not so much about—”
The lock clicked open and Stefano sucked his teeth.
“Ready?” I asked, looking back at the group.
Stefano nodded and pushed the door open, gesturing into the dark foyer.
“Ladies first,” Tomaso said.
Ash sucked in a breath then stepped inside. Tomaso followed, grinning and cracking his knuckles, and Stefano went next. I lingered on the stoop, looking at the street, at the sidewalk, scanning the nearby windows for some old lady up late staring down, but there was nothing.
All silent, all good.
I went in after them and shut the door behind me.
The short hallway ended in a small, comfortable lobby. Tomaso went behind the secretary’s desk and began rifling through it. He threw papers on the floor and smashed her keyboard in the desk. “I’ll take care of this,” he said.
I walked past the desk and down a short hall. Offices lined either side. Stefano ducked into the first one and began to systematically destroy it: every paper, every book, every stick of furniture ripped out and broken.
I caught up with Ash and draped an arm across her shoulder. She flinched a little and looked up at me, her eyes wide with fear and excitement. I liked that excitement—it was a fucking turn-on. I felt a tinge of that adrenaline rush through me as we reached the last door at the end of the hall and read Stuart’s name on the gold plaque tacked in the middle.
“Be my guest,” I said, gesturing.
“What a gentleman,” Ash said, and opened Stuart’s office door.
Inside was the biggest room yet. Large bookshelves flanked a massive desk carved with pillars and snaking vines along the top. A small sitting area to the left had several couches and comfortable chairs, along with expensive-looking bottles of alcohol neatly lined up on a serving table. The whole room looked immaculate, like Stuart didn’t like disorder, and it brought a massive smile to my face.
I walked over to the alcohol, weighed a bottle of whiskey in my hand, and cracked it open. I took a long drink then threw it as hard as I could at the wall. It smashed into tiny pieces, the glass ricocheting all around, and Ash let out a shocked yelp before covering her mouth with both hands.