raining blood …until what was taken from him was paid in full –and the debt was great.
Clint had taken a lot from a lot of people. If this was a personal vendetta against him…he had one hell of a long list of suspects to sift through.
So bury thoughts of Axel and get to fucking sifting –before this motherfucker makes his next play and you lose another member of your family.
♦
Tension was thick in the air, visible in Clint, Cochise and Cory, as they all gathered in the hospital room. The looks Cory shot at Clint were sharp and piercing. Clint deflected them by turning his eyes anywhere but on Cory directly. What the hell had happened between them? He didn’t understand the problem with Clint and Cochise either.
He glanced at Angelo, who appeared as puzzled as Anthony. He turned his focus on his son. “Are you up for telling us what happened last night?” Though the boy’s face was dry, there was a dampness to his eyes that betrayed former tears.
“Yeah,” he whispered with a stiffness to his tone. He repeated to them what he’d told Clint.
Anthony’s gut twisted with dread. “You couldn’t see any distinguishing details about him?”
“Not much,” Cory said. “He was wearing a long coat…like those riding coats from the old western movies, and…a cowboy hat.” He leaned against the pillow and stared up at the ceiling, his eyes distant as his voice lowered. “I remember thinking he looked like a gunfighter…from the old west. “Was there anything else you can remember?” Anthony asked his son.
Cory started to shake his head then hesitated, frowning. “There was…something,” he murmured distantly, his brow pinching in concentration. “It seemed…insignificant at the time, I think, but now…”
“What was it?”
Frustration strained his face. “I can’t remember. Maybe it was nothing. I don’t know.”
“Maybe after you get more rest, you’ll remember,” Angelo said quietly.
“Maybe,” Cory whispered. His eyes, glossed with a thin film of wetness, lingered on Clint.
Clint cleared his throat and carefully avoided Cory’s stare. “We’ll backtrack from Venetti. Someone knows something. We’ll find this motherfucker.”
“What about the men I brought in?” Cory asked. “If all this is connected, maybe someone in their circle knows something about the hit. They struck me as the type to brag.”
“Yeah,” Clint murmured. “That Ryder had a mouth on him.”
“For our purposes, that’s a good thing,” Anthony spoke up. “Guys like that don’t know how to keep their mouths shut. Find his regular hangouts and I’d bet my ass someone heard him spouting off about the job.”
“We’ll find them,” Clint nodded. “And they’ll fucking tell us what we want to know, or lose their fucking nuts.”
Their attention turned to the door in one unified motion when someone knocked once then entered before invited. The five of them stared at the man in the dark suit, a badge and handgun clipped to his belt.
Anthony glanced at the others. Put on your game faces, boys.
♦
“Corrigan Romero,” the man said, his eyes passing over each occupant in the room and coming to rest on Cory. “I’m detective Warren Cobb. I need to ask you some questions about last night’s shooting.”
Cory remained calm and didn’t waver from the man’s stare. He nodded but didn’t speak until the detective began passing out questions.
“According to an earlier statement given to officer Parks,” Cobb said as he retrieved a small tablet and flipped it open. “You and Shay O’Riley were transporting a car for sale to an arranged buyer.” He raised his eyes to Cory’s face. “Is that correct?”
“Yes,” Cory said.
“Who set up the sale?”
“I did,” his dad spoke up. “I’m Anthony Romero. My son, Cory, and Shay O’Riley were two of my drivers.”
“Explain to me how your business works?”
Anthony nodded. “As Mr. Maddox explained to the officer,
Clint had taken a lot from a lot of people. If this was a personal vendetta against him…he had one hell of a long list of suspects to sift through.
So bury thoughts of Axel and get to fucking sifting –before this motherfucker makes his next play and you lose another member of your family.
♦
Tension was thick in the air, visible in Clint, Cochise and Cory, as they all gathered in the hospital room. The looks Cory shot at Clint were sharp and piercing. Clint deflected them by turning his eyes anywhere but on Cory directly. What the hell had happened between them? He didn’t understand the problem with Clint and Cochise either.
He glanced at Angelo, who appeared as puzzled as Anthony. He turned his focus on his son. “Are you up for telling us what happened last night?” Though the boy’s face was dry, there was a dampness to his eyes that betrayed former tears.
“Yeah,” he whispered with a stiffness to his tone. He repeated to them what he’d told Clint.
Anthony’s gut twisted with dread. “You couldn’t see any distinguishing details about him?”
“Not much,” Cory said. “He was wearing a long coat…like those riding coats from the old western movies, and…a cowboy hat.” He leaned against the pillow and stared up at the ceiling, his eyes distant as his voice lowered. “I remember thinking he looked like a gunfighter…from the old west. “Was there anything else you can remember?” Anthony asked his son.
Cory started to shake his head then hesitated, frowning. “There was…something,” he murmured distantly, his brow pinching in concentration. “It seemed…insignificant at the time, I think, but now…”
“What was it?”
Frustration strained his face. “I can’t remember. Maybe it was nothing. I don’t know.”
“Maybe after you get more rest, you’ll remember,” Angelo said quietly.
“Maybe,” Cory whispered. His eyes, glossed with a thin film of wetness, lingered on Clint.
Clint cleared his throat and carefully avoided Cory’s stare. “We’ll backtrack from Venetti. Someone knows something. We’ll find this motherfucker.”
“What about the men I brought in?” Cory asked. “If all this is connected, maybe someone in their circle knows something about the hit. They struck me as the type to brag.”
“Yeah,” Clint murmured. “That Ryder had a mouth on him.”
“For our purposes, that’s a good thing,” Anthony spoke up. “Guys like that don’t know how to keep their mouths shut. Find his regular hangouts and I’d bet my ass someone heard him spouting off about the job.”
“We’ll find them,” Clint nodded. “And they’ll fucking tell us what we want to know, or lose their fucking nuts.”
Their attention turned to the door in one unified motion when someone knocked once then entered before invited. The five of them stared at the man in the dark suit, a badge and handgun clipped to his belt.
Anthony glanced at the others. Put on your game faces, boys.
♦
“Corrigan Romero,” the man said, his eyes passing over each occupant in the room and coming to rest on Cory. “I’m detective Warren Cobb. I need to ask you some questions about last night’s shooting.”
Cory remained calm and didn’t waver from the man’s stare. He nodded but didn’t speak until the detective began passing out questions.
“According to an earlier statement given to officer Parks,” Cobb said as he retrieved a small tablet and flipped it open. “You and Shay O’Riley were transporting a car for sale to an arranged buyer.” He raised his eyes to Cory’s face. “Is that correct?”
“Yes,” Cory said.
“Who set up the sale?”
“I did,” his dad spoke up. “I’m Anthony Romero. My son, Cory, and Shay O’Riley were two of my drivers.”
“Explain to me how your business works?”
Anthony nodded. “As Mr. Maddox explained to the officer,
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