Chapter 9 - The Quiet House
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The silence of the house in the hour before the wedding was heavy, suffocating, and absolute.
Alessandro stood in the master suite, staring out the window at the arriving guests. Black luxury cars and limousines lined the long, winding driveway. The elite of Chicago’s high society, corrupt politicians, and rival business owners were pouring onto his lawn, completely unaware they were stepping into a war zone.
Matteo entered the room, locking the door behind him. He carried two custom-fitted Kevlar vests.
“Put this on, Boss,” Matteo said, tossing one onto the bed. “Our men are in position. We have snipers in the tree line covering the tent, and twenty heavy hitters waiting in the basement armory. They are completely off communications so Silas’s guys don't intercept radio chatter.”
Alessandro unbuttoned his white dress shirt and strapped the heavy, rigid Kevlar tightly around his torso. He put the shirt back on, the tailored fit of his tuxedo jacket perfectly concealing the body armor.
“Have you located Arthur Vance?” Alessandro asked, adjusting his bow tie in the mirror.
“He’s sitting in the front row, playing the proud uncle,” Matteo grunted, racking the slide of his concealed handgun. “Silas has his catering guys positioned near all the major exits of the tent. They plan to lock the guests inside once the chaos starts.”
“Let them,” Alessandro said coldly. “The guests are collateral. They chose to swim with sharks. I only care about the study. When she goes for the safe, I want Silas separated from the main group.”
“We’ll funnel him directly into the trap,” Matteo promised.
A soft knock echoed on the bedroom door.
“Ten minutes, Mr. Rienzi,” a wedding coordinator called out nervously from the hallway.
Alessandro looked at Matteo in the mirror. The two men had survived gang wars, assassination attempts, and federal indictments together. But this was different. This was a betrayal that had slept in his bed.
May you like
“Showtime,” Alessandro murmured.
He picked up a small, silver flask from his dresser, took a deep burning swallow of scotch, and walked out of the room to marry the woman who wanted him dead.
