“Don’t remind me!” Giorgio snapped. “I should have spent more time with him when he was a kid. He was a spoiled brat, and he didn’t know what it meant to be a made man. If he’d played his cards right, he could have inherited my empire. Once I take out Pucci, I’ll go after the other Dons. Everyone says the Seven Families War eighty years ago was bloody and horrible, but they haven’t seen a thing yet! By the time I’m through, the Seven Families War will seem like a picnic!”
“Why haven’t the Warriors snuffed Pucci yet?” Ozzi asked.
“I don’t know,” Giorgio admitted. “But I’m not sitting on my ass waiting for them to hit the prick! I’ve hired a hit squad of independents to take care of Pucci if he shows his face in the casino.”
“What about Hickok? Why is he here?” Ozzi probed.
Giorgio pondered for a moment. “He came to see if I wanted revenge for Franky.”
“And do you?” Ozzi questioned.
Giorgio’s mouth twisted downward. “Of course! Franky was a moron, but he was blood. I’ll keep tabs on Hickok, try to find out where the rest of the Warriors are, and if they’ve outlived their usefulness to me, I’ll have them whacked.”
“Gee, boss,” Sacks said. “You think of everything. If the Warriors whack Don Pucci, no one will think to blame you. You can take over Vegas without the other Dons ganging up on you.”
“I’ll do it one way or the other,” Giorgio vowed. “Pucci’s Family isn’t as strong as it was eighty years ago. If the Warriors waste him, the other Dons will easily come under my thumb. But even if the Warriors blow it, Pucci is going down. I will be the top Don by the end of the year.”
Ozzi straightened attentively. “With your indulgence, there’s a matter I’d like to discuss with you.”
Giorgio smirked. “As if I couldn’t guess.”
“I respectfully ask your permission,” Ozzi said.
“I knew this was coming,” Giorgio commented. “I saw the way you were looking at her all the way back from Minnesota. And I saw you threaten to rack Nicky if he laid his hands on her.”
“Will you consent?” Ozzi asked.
“Why do you want her? She’s an outsider,” Giorgio remarked. “Why not pick one of the local girls? You could have the cream of the crop. You’re a made man. A big wheel in my organization.”
“I want Mindy,” Ozzi stated.
“What do you see in her?” Giorgio inquired.
“I don’t know how to describe my feelings,” Ozzi responded. “I’ve never felt like this before.”
Giorgio grinned. “Some call it love. I call it lust. If you want to marry her, she’s yours. But there are two conditions.”
“Name them,” Ozzi said eagerly.
“First, you wait until this Warrior business is resolved,” Giorgio directed.
“As you wish,” Ozzi stated dutifully.
“Second, you convince her the marriage is in her best interests,” Giorgio said. “She’s a little hellcat when she gets her temper up. I don’t want one of my lieutenants dragging his betrothed down the aisle the day of the wedding. Everyone would talk.”
“I’ll convince her she loves me,” Ozzi pledged. “Even if I must slap her around a bit. She’ll get the message.”
“You have the right attitude,” Giorgio said approvingly. “A woman needs to be slapped around now and then to keep her in line. Sock her in the gut. That usually works for me. They don’t like to be bruised, so you’ve got to be careful when you hit her in the face.”
“Can I go see her now?” Ozzi queried.
“Go ahead.”
“What about me, boss?” Sacks asked.
“I want you to go down to the casino,” Giorgio directed. “Keep an eye on Hickok. Send Kenney up to me.”
“Okay,” Sacks said.
“I’ll give the Warriors until tomorrow to off Don Pucci,” Giorgio remarked. “If they don’t, I can only assume they don’t intend to kill him. I’ll put out a contract on every Warrior in town.”
Ozzi and Sacks exited the room.
Don Giorgio stared at the doorway, reflecting. Ozzi was one of his best button men, but the kid was soft in the noodle. Imagine being dumb enough to fall for the skirt from the family! Mindy was a liability, incriminating evidence. The girl had to be snuffed, and Kenney was just the man to do it. An accident could be arranged. The poor bimbo would hang herself from a light fixture. All Kenney would need to do would be arrange a scheduling snafu so the girl’s room was unguarded for a while.
Ozzi would be heartbroken.
But those were the breaks!
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The four hit men were closing in on Don Pucci’s party.
Blade did the only thing he could do; he suddenly crouched in front of the Don’s wheelchair, aimed the Commando barrel over Pucci’s right shoulder, and sighted on one of the trigger men with a pistol, the nearest one.
Startled, the Don’s eight men swung their machine guns at the giant.
Afraid of hitting the Don, they held their fire.
Blade cut loose, the Commando chattering loudly, the stock bucking against his shoulder.
The closest hit man took a burst in the chest and was flung to the carpet.
Mario swung in the direction Blade had fired.
Don Pucci’s hands were sliding under the red blanket in his lap. Several of his men started toward him.
The hit man with the sawed-off shotgun let fly into the back of one of the Don’s men at point-blank range, the buckshot blowing the man’s chest out and sending him sprawling. Pivoting, the hit man took a bead on the Don.
Blade squeezed the trigger, stitching the shotgun-wielding killer from the crotch to the forehead.
One of the two remaining hit men shot a pair of the Don’s guards and aimed at the Don.
The last hit man was barreling toward the wheelchair.
Caught unawares by the abrupt assassination attempt, with their attention focused on the Warriors, none of the Don’s men had fired a shot in the first three seconds of the attack. Now, as they realized the true danger was coming at them from the crowds, not the bar, they spun to confront the last two hit men. But they were too slow.
Geronimo and Helen fired simultaneously. Geronimo’s Browning struck the hit man on the right in the face and he crashed onto his back. Helen’s Armalite sent a half-dozen rounds into the last hit man, into the left side of his chest. He twisted and toppled over.
In the aftermath of the shooting, the casino was as quiet as a tomb.
Blade slowly stood.
Don Pucci turned his wheelchair and scrutinized the four dead hit men, then glanced at his own casualties. He gazed up at the giant. “Thanks. They nearly nailed me.”
“Do you know who they were?” Blade asked.
“No,” Don Pucci said. “But I’ll find out. They were probably sent by Giorgio, but I’ll never be able to prove it. He’d hire outside talent for a job like this. He’d never use any of his own men.”
“Why does Giorgio want to kill you?” Blade queried.
“Why else?” Pucci responded. “He wants to take over Vegas. But I can’t do anything about him unless I can uncover some proof. I must justify my actions to the other Dons.”
“I thought you are running the show in Vegas,” Blade observed. “Why must you justify your actions to them?”
“Courtesy,” Don Pucci said. “If I don’t show them respect, they’re not about to show me any respect. All the Dons belong to the Council, our governing body. If any of us has a grievance against another Don, we bring it up in Council. If I was to hit Giorgio without a justifiable grievance and the agreement of the Council, an all-out war could result.” He glanced at Mario, then nodded toward the bodies. “Clean up this mess. Discover who they were. And send ten grand to the families of each of our boys who were whacked.”