Page 137 of Dark Angel
Later.
Forcing himself to stay composed, he got into the driver’s seat, glanced over at Halston. She was on the phone.
“Thank you,” she said. “We’re on our way.” She hung up, peered over at Gabriel. “I called a few funeral homes nearby.One of them answered. The funeral director said the Moretti’s recently lost a family member.”
“Angelo’s grandfather. Now I have to tell them their Angelo was gunned down.” He gripped the steering wheel, anguish burning a hole in his heart.
As he drove out, he said, “I didn’t recognize the hitman.”
“He was masked,” Halston said, “and everything happened so fast.”
“Donskoy?” he asked.
“Hmm, maybe,” she replied. “Donskoy’s around my height, five six.”
Twenty-minutes later, Gabriel parked in front of the funeral home. He and the director moved Angelo’s body to a gurney, and he was wheeled into a receiving room.
“Please don’t contact the family,” Gabriel said.
“I’m sorry, I don’t understand,” said the funeral director.
“Mr. Moretti—Angelo—is a long-time friend of mine.” Another jolt stabbed through him. This time, tears pricked his eyes. “Sorry.”
Halston put a calming hand on his back.
“I need to tell Angelo’s family before you contact them,” Gabriel explained. “I’ll pay for everything. Whatever they want.”
“Yes, sir. Should I expect the police to stop by?”
“The police weren’t called but refer them to me if that happens.” Gabriel handed him a business card. “I’ll have someone bring Angelo a suit.”
The moment felt surreal. Like he was stuck in a nightmare he could not wake from. Another jolt of grief tore through him.
The funeral director glanced from the business card to him. “Gabriel Santini of Santini International?”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” said the director.
“Can I have a moment with Angelo?” Gabriel turned to Halston. “I won’t be long.”
She kissed his cheek. “Take whatever time you need.”
The funeral director escorted Halston out. His friend lay motionless on the gurney, the ashen color of his skin confirmation he was gone.
Gabriel placed his hand on Angelo’s chest. “It should have been me. You shouldn’t have stepped in front of me. Those bullets weren’t meant for you, my friend. I can never repay you for your loyalty. Even when I kill him, it won’t bring you back. I’m so sorry, Angelo.” He bowed his head. “Lord Jesus, I messed up. This is on me, but I willnotturn the other cheek. I will avenge my friend.”
For a man who had tremendous control over his emotions, Gabriel was a mess. The mix of emotions—grief, fury, hatred, vengeance, and gratitude—charged through him at an unforgiving speed. He had to rein them in or he’d make a mistake. Losing Angelo had gutted him. He couldn’t lose anyone else.
He found Halston on a cushioned bench in the waiting room, her head bowed. He sat beside her, clasped her hand.
“Father, forgive me for the sins I have done, for the sins I will do,” she whispered. “Amen.”
“Amen,” Gabriel murmured. “What sins are you going to commit?”
“As many as it takes to right this,” she replied. “I’mma need a weapon. As much as I love my lipstick gun, it’s not enough.”
“I can’t bring you into this.”
