The Death Business (A Noah Milano Novella) by Jochem Vandersteen

Author:Jochem Vandersteen [Vandersteen, Jochem]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Sons of Spade
Published: 2014-02-02T05:00:00+00:00

THIRTEEN

I got some shuteye in my apartment. Kane told me he was going to sleep in one of my more comfortable chairs. When I got out of bed to take a leak, I saw him sitting on the chair, leaning on an assault rifle. His eyes were open, but his slow breathing made him seem to be asleep. He still managed to give me the creeps, making me wonder if he was even human.

Suddenly he stood up straight, his M4A1 rifle’s stock against his shoulder, finger on the trigger, hand under the barrel.

“Did you hear that?” he said.

I was just shocked he’d been aware of my presence. “What do you mean?”

“Footsteps. In front of your door.”

“You’ve got Superman-like hearing now too?”

“Get your gun and take cover,” Kane ordered.

I knew better than doubting the assassin’s advice. I ran over to the gun safe in my bedroom and removed the 9mm Beretta I kept there.

I walked back into the living room where Kane was still standing in the same position, rifle aimed at the door.

I stood next to him, following his lead and aiming the Beretta at the door. I stood in the classic Weaver position, rear foot straight to anticipate the recoil, forward knee slightly bent.

The door flew open. Two men appeared in the doorway. Tough looking guys with football player physiques wearing warm-up jackets. They were carrying Mossberg shotguns, barrels sawed off.

Kane didn’t bother telling them to drop their weapons. That was for cops and the kind of stuff that would get you killed. There was the pop-pop sound of Kane’s rifle and the cracks of my Beretta as bloody red flowers blossomed on the invaders’ jackets.

They probably thought they were surprising us. Too bad there’s not much of a possibility to ever surprise Kane.

As the echo of our gunfire died down and the smoke dispersed, there were two dead bodies in my doorway. No need to check their pulses to know they were gone. Kane always shot to kill, and in cases like these, I did too.

We walked over to the dead bodies. Kane knelt down beside them, leaning on the rifle for support. “Italians.”

I joined him. “Seems like it. Do you know them?”

“One of them. His name’s Franco Tucci. Works for Marco Calabrese.”

“Calabrese? Shit, that’s one of my dad’s biggest rivals.”

“Sure is. Handles most of the gambling in LA, has his hands in a lot of pies. Has some thriving legitimate businesses too. Just like your dad.”

“Do you think Calabrese might have sent these guys after me to get to my dad or something?”

Kane shook his head. “Calabrese is not that dumb. He’s not looking for a gang war with your father. That would only be bad for business. He has his activities, and your dad has his. No, he’s after you because of something you’re involved in.”

“I can’t imagine what his connection to the Carol Dickinson case could be. And there’s nothing else I’m working on at the moment.”

Kane grinned. “Sounds like we’re going to have to ask him ourselves what his involvement is.

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