The Trophy Wife by Ginna Gray

Author:Ginna Gray
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: MIRA Books
Published: 2013-07-17T16:00:00+00:00

Twelve

Angelo Delvechio sat with his back to the wall at a table in the rear of the small neighborhood bar. He nursed a club soda, his icy stare fixed on the door.

He hadn’t budged from his seat or uttered a word since he walked in and gave his drink order more than an hour ago, but everyone in the place gave him a wide berth. New Yorkers, especially ones in this borough, knew trouble when they saw it.

His cohorts and those who knew who he was called Angelo the Angel of Death. His size alone was enough to intimidate most people. At six foot three and over three hundred pounds, he was a mountain of a man. Blunt features, close-set “piggy” eyes and a face devoid of emotion combined to give him a menacing look that terrified most people.

Angelo had grown up in the neighborhood, and all of his life he’d been a bully and a troublemaker. No one had been surprised when he’d become an enforcer for the Voltura crime family.

Angelo glanced at the clock behind the bar. Dammit, where was Tony Minelli? His source had sworn to him that the man sneaked into this bar every night to pick up a fifth of whiskey.

A chilling half smile curved Angelo’s mouth. Tony had never been much of a drinker before, but word on the street was he was hitting the juice hard these days. No doubt he’d heard about the contract out on him and was running scared. From what Angelo had heard, his target had gone to ground over a week ago, shortly after Angelo took out his running buddy, Lucky Lorenzo. Angelo’s lips quirked again. Lucky’s luck had run out.

Angelo’s eyes narrowed, and the man at the next table picked up his drink and shuffled away. Dammit, he thought, gritting his teeth. It had taken him all this time and some persuasion to get a lead on Tony. He would make the little weasel pay for putting him to so much trouble.

The cold smile flickered again. Tony’s other best pal, Leo Vittoli, had given him up. Funny how friendship faded when you had the barrel of a 9 mm Glock stuck in your mouth.

Angelo’s gaze flickered to the clock again, then back to the entrance, just as his target slunk into the bar. He almost didn’t recognize the man. Tony had always been a flashy dresser with a cocky attitude, but now his hair was long and scraggly, he had a week’s worth of beard stubble and his clothes were filthy and looked as though he’d slept in them.

The scruffy-looking man hesitated just inside the doorway, his gaze darting around the room. Like one of those damned little ferrets, Angelo thought with disgust. Pretending to pay no attention to his surroundings, he bent over his drink as though he was soused, but he surreptitiously watched his target.

Casting fearful glances all around, Tony sidled up to the bar and signaled the bartender. Without speaking a word, the man took Tony’s money and handed over a bottle.

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