Kruger’s lips widen into a sinister smile, and he leans back as if infused with new energy, forgetting his wounds.
“It was, wasn’t it? That last hit you sent me to complete. The Italian big leaguer.”
“You’re mine, Mazur.” He sneers. “You would have been nothing without me. I took an insignificant wad of s**t and shaped it into a magnificent art piece. No one can take away my creation!” he chokes out with a snarl. “Did you even know the woman you were seeing was a Cosa Nostra princess?”
No, I didn’t. I only found out a week ago when Felix dug up info on her for me. I lift my gun and shoot Kruger in his left shoulder. “Continue.”
He glares at me, his face contorted into a pained mask. Beads of sweat collect at his hairline, and his breathing is fast and shallow, but he keeps his back ram
