Dante
The body was still warm when I arrived.
The alley reeked of urine and gasoline, two blocks off an abandoned train yard on the edge of the city. My man Nico stood over the corpse, face pale, lighting a cigarette with trembling fingers.
"Hitman's name was Salvatore," he said. "You were right, he was about to talk."
I crouched beside Marcini's body. Rope burns marred the man's wrists. His knuckles were broken, one of his teeth missing. Blood pooled under his nose like a mockery of a nosebleed. And yet, there was a neat little note tucked into his jacket, suicide-style.
"Fake ass notes," I muttered. "They must be a trail."
Nico crouched beside me, voice low. "This was Ricci's cleanup. Fast, efficient, brutal."
I nodded slowly. V. Ricci moved quickly. I underestimated how close he'd been watching. Or maybe I overestimated how much time Alessia had. Shit…..
I rose and brushed blood off my gloves. "Burn the body," I said. "Make it look like someone was tying up their own mess"
