2
THE ASSASSINS
Three months later. June, present day.
Carrera
Sunday evening, Carrera studied the faces of evil on the wall-mounted screens. The leader—Richard Allen Glazer—and the five loyal men who worked for him.
Carrera, along with his cousins, Luciano and Teddy Santini, had been squirreled away in Luciano’s Great Falls mansion for the past hour. This hit was days in the planning, and Carrera could not fucking wait.
“Once released from prison, Glazer moved to Maryland,” Luciano said. “and he picked up right where he left off. Trafficking women.”
“Ballsy,” Teddy added.
“He thinks he’s untouchable,” Luciano said.
“Up till now, he has been.” Carrera clicked on the laptop in front of him and read through the men’s long list of atrocities.
Kidnapping, sex trafficking, prostitution, sexual assault, and murder, though no arrests had been made for that last crime.
“He sued every law enforcement agency that had anything to do with his arrest,” Luciano explained. “Claimed his civil rights were violated.”
“We got this,” Carrera said closing his laptop.
“Are we in agreement?” Luciano asked.
Carrera slid his gaze from the screen to his older cousin. “Hell, yeah.”
As Teddy tied his long, blond hair into a man bun, he flicked his gaze from Carrera to Luciano, but he didn’t speak.
“What’s going on with you?” Carrera asked.
“I got a bad feeling about this,” Teddy replied.
“You want to sit this one out?” Luciano asked.
“No,” Teddy said. “I’m in.”
“How long until law enforcement arrives?” Carrera asked.
Luciano’s upper lip curled into a snarl, and Carrera bit back a smile. His cousin hated law enforcement, with the exception of a few select individuals.
“ALPHA gets there at three,” Luciano explained.
Carrera pushed out of his chair. “It’s one in the morning. Let’s do this.”
“Teddy, turn your phoneoff,” Luciano said.
On a huff, Teddy turned off his device. “Happy?” he asked.
“I wouldn’t know happy if I fucking bumped into it.” Then a sinister smile lifted the corners of Luciano’s mouth. “But I know pain and misery.”
“Then, let’s go inflict some,” Carrera rasped.
“My driver’s taking us,” Luciano said.
“Not for a hit,” Carrera pushed back. “I got this.”