It was impossible to be too nervous when Elie was around, not that she was all that nervous. Emmanuelle was sure of her abilities, and she was pragmatic about death. One had to be, living the kind of life she did. She trained hard and was prepared for any possibility, so she didn’t think about losing fights. She was a silent killer. She didn’t engage enemies in battle. She simply killed.
The ground shivered beneath her feet, alerting her to the fact that several vehicles were approaching the gates fast. Valentino’s property was gorgeous. The heavy stone fence was overgrown, with years of beautiful weeping wisteria climbing the walls. The plants attached to the stone had become a thick, impenetrable forest of masses of leaves, vines and, depending on the time of year, blossoms resembling purple waterfalls all along the fence. Only the gates were unfettered, and that was a constant battle between the plants and the gardener.
The line of cars stopped. Emmanuelle counted five SUVs and one truck. The truck looked like it carried an arsenal in the bed. She wasn’t positive, because they had it covered, but she thought they might have brought a mortar. When she glanced up, Elie was already gone. She followed suit, stepping out of the mouth of the shadow for a split second to catch one that would take her to the lead car. Even if the man at the gates managed to unlock them, if everyone in the lead car was dead and it blocked the entrance, that would slow the other vehicles down.
Elie had already killed them. She shook her head and slipped into the next shadow to slide up to the second vehicle. The back passenger door was open as the men inside waited for the lead car to get the gates open.
“What’s taking so fucking long, Don?” the driver demanded into his radio.
“There’s like ten locks on this thing. I could blow it, but Angelo said we didn’t want neighbors to get nosy and call the cops too soon.”
“He doesn’t even know if they’re here,” another one grumbled. “Tommaso said Valentino was hit hard. He saw Dario pull him out of the house. If he was really hit that bad, Dario wouldn’t have risked moving him this far. He would have taken him to the theater.”
Emmanuelle swung her head around. She recognized that voice. That man had been employed by Giuseppi. No one called the little building on the edge of Ferraro territory “the theater” but Valentino and Giuseppi. It was a running joke with them. The carpet inside was a gaudy red. The wallpaper on the walls was faded and peeling. The Ferraro family was going to clean it up and rent it out to a business, but they never got around to it. Val and Giuseppi sometimes went there and played cards when they wanted to escape their world for just a little while. They had a small refrigerator, an old couch and a table and chairs. Dario was always their bodyguard.
Emmanuelle thought it was funny that they didn’t go to a restaurant like any normal crime family boss might have done. Giuseppi and Valentino had done something different and, to Emme, heartbreakingly beautiful and fun. This man, and she remembered his name—Val had called him Giorgio—had been trusted by Giuseppi. He’d obviously given a lot of information to Miceli and his sons regarding Val and Giuseppi and most likely even Emmanuelle.
“You’d better hope Dario was hit if Val was,” another recognizable voice from the back said. “Dario will never stop hunting you. Doesn’t know about me.” There was smugness in his tone.
“Yeah, but if he catches up with Giorgio, he’ll torture him and get the names of everyone who took Miceli’s money, Brando.”
The others burst out laughing. “You’d better make sure you kill Dario this time.”
“He’s not so easy to kill,” the driver said. “Neither is that prick Valentino.”
There were five men in the SUV. The driver and a passenger in the front seat. The passenger had remained silent. He hadn’t turned around to join in with the banter in the back. She hadn’t gotten a good look at his face, but had the feeling he was the man in charge. One shadow lined up with the back of the SUV, but just barely. It would get her inside, and allow her to kill at least two of those in the back, perhaps the third one, without alerting those in the front seat. She went over the moves in her mind until she knew exactly what she was going to do.
Seconds had passed when it felt as if minutes had. She stepped from one shadow to the next and was inside with the five men, aware of the close quarters, the smell of cologne, leather and guns. She snapped the first neck almost without thinking and was on the second, the middle passenger, as she emerged fully.