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“WHERE ARE THEY?” GIA asked as she pressed her eye firmly into her rifle’s scope. “The foundation is emptying. I don’t see them.”
“They’ll show,” Carlo said. “The party’s finished. Look at the sheer amount of people waiting on the sidewalk for their limos to show. The Wenns could appear at any moment, so be prepared for it.”
The past hour had been sheer hell for them, because neither knew when Alex and Jennifer Wenn would leave the building and move onto the sidewalk with the rest of the partygoers.
Somehow, they were still inside. Still taking their fucking time while she and her brother had no choice but to remain low to the floor, rooted to their guns, which presented its own set of physical limitations.
As in shape as she was, crouching down so low and leaning into such an awkward position created an ache in her neck and her shoulders that was excruciating.
And she knew that it had to be worse for Carlo, who was bigger than she and thus had to settle even lower onto the floor in a position that was wholly unnatural.
But if they left their sites for even a second, they could miss the Wenns when they left the Stone Foundation. And then all would be lost—and they both knew it. So neither of them moved from their positions, not even for a quick stretch.
Gia glanced at her watch and saw that it was just past midnight.
“Do a sweep,” Carlo said. “Look around for cops. I’ll stay locked on the doors.”
“Done.”
He waited a moment before he said, “Anything out of the ordinary? Any security?”
She swept Fifty-Fourth Street, her eyes carefully scanning from left to right.
“Not yet...”
“You need to hurry. They’ll be coming out soon.”
“So you keep saying—time and again. Before you launch into a fit of hysteria, how about if you just keep your rifle on the front doors,” she said as she scanned the rest of the street before moving beyond the building and scanning Park Avenue. “I see no cops. Not yet, anyway.”
“Where are you looking now?” he asked.
“Park.”
“More people are leaving,” he said.
“Let them leave,” she said. “We’re only after two people, Carlo. Until you tell me that the Wenns are leaving, I have no interest in who’s—” And then Gia stopped cold. “What in the hell...?” she said.
“What?” Carlo said.
With her heart quickening, Gia adjusted her sites and fixed on a figure that was standing in a tuxedo at the far left of the foundation’s entrance. She couldn’t see his face now, but for a fleeting instant she’d seen it—and she’d known then who it was.
But can I be sure? It was so quick. And he’s supposed to be on a plane at this point...
With the man’s face now concealed by the pillar that was closest to Park—where traffic was actually moving in ways that it wasn’t moving on Fifty-Fourth Street, where traffic was stuck—she held her breath and waited for him to move.
And when he did—when he looked over his shoulder toward the entrance and his bald head revealed itself to Gia—she almost froze.
It was Stephen Rowe. She zoomed in, saw his face, and in anger, let out the breath she’d been holding within her.
He’d fooled them.
Betrayed them.
He’d been planning on taking out the Wenns on his own.
But why?
“We need to get out of here!” she said as she stumbled away from her rifle.
“What are you talking about?” Carlo said to her. “Jesus, Gia, the Wenns just left the building! Get the fuck back on your rifle! We take them now!”
“Look to your left!” she shouted at him. “Look for Rowe! He’s there! In a tux! You can see his fucking bald head! Do you see him?”
“I’m looking...”
“He’s near Park. No one is going to recognize him looking like that. He’s fucked us—he’s taken this payday from us—and he’s about to kill them on his own. Why else would he be here now? He told us that he was leaving on a damned plane today! He said that he was leaving so we could finish it—and now this! He’s had this planned all along. He baited us. Despite everything we went through to prepare for tonight, he never once planned on allowing us to be any part of it.”
“I see him,” Carlo said. “He’s moving toward the Wenns. No one is even looking twice at him.”
“Why would they?” she asked. “He’s changed his fucking appearance.”
“But none of this makes sense,” Carlo said. “He has to know that he’ll be killed if he tries to take either of their lives. Think about it, Gia. He hired us to do the work for him so that he wouldn’t get caught.”
“Then why is he here?”
“The only thing that makes sense to me is that he might be here to witness their deaths in person. When it’s over—when gunshots are fired and heads explode—he can just rush away with the rest of the crowd. Scatter amongst them. Vanish into the night after seeing what he’s waited to see for so along.”
On one level, that made sense to Gia—it could be true. Maybe Rowe, as sick as he was, did want to see them die for himself. But Uncle Niccolo had always taught her that if someone ever misled or lied to you, that was the moment to break ties and flee, because only more lies would come.
“The three of us had a deal, and Rowe’s presence just violated it,” she said. “We’ve got to get out of here now—so move it.”
“Are you sure?” he said. “He’s no longer moving toward them. He’s just hanging off to the side now, almost as if he’s waiting for something to happen.”
She peered into her sites, and saw that what he said was true.
“What if he just wants to watch?” Carlo said. “What if he’s waiting for us to act now?”
Fuck! she thought.
She looked down the sites and scanned the area in front of the foundation until all of them came into view.
And it was true—while Alex and Jennifer Wenn were waiting their turn for their limousine to arrive along Fifty-Fourth Street, which was gridlocked with limousines, Rowe hadn’t moved forward. It also appeared that he had no weapon. Instead, he looked nervous, twitchy. He likely was riding high on cocaine again. His gaze was squarely on the Wenns—and anticipation was clear on his face.
For us to shoot?
“What should we do?” Carlo said.
Her gut was filled with tension and uncertainty when she said, “I don’t know.”
“We should kill them,” Carlo said. “Take the money. I’ve got a clear shot of Alex’s forehead. Do you have Jennifer?”
“I do.”
“Then we must shoot.”
Angry, unsure, and confused, Gia locked her sites on Jennifer Wenn’s right eye as she gave into her brother—and readied to press the trigger.
