[Tanner 16.0] To Kill a Killer

by Remington Kane

  “Stay calm,” Dante told his brothers before smiling at the boy. That the boy had come to kill them was plain to see, but so was the fear in his eyes.

  For once, Nerio and Romy were keeping their big mouths shut, which was good, because threats and foolish heroics weren’t going to save them. This was the time for guile.

  Dante’s smile widened as he shook his head.

  “Ah, I guess I lost the bet. I said you wouldn’t have the guts to come here, but it looks like I was wrong.”

  The boy’s brow wrinkled in confusion.

  “You… you knew I was coming here?” the boy said, and his voice traveled up and down in range due to puberty, or perhaps fear.

  “I knew that was the plan, but I foolishly bet that you wouldn’t be brave enough to break in. Now I know better, and I’m wiser too, but I’ll still be twenty euros poorer after paying off my debt.”

  The boy blinked as he puzzled through Dante’s words, and the barrel of the shotgun lowered several inches. From the corner of his left eye, Dante saw that Nerio had wrapped one of his large hands around an old glass vase that was perched on an end table.

  “This was just a test?” the boy said.

  Dante forced himself to laugh and hoped that it didn’t sound phony. If the boy’s doubt vanished, he would kill them.

  “Of course, it’s a test, that’s why there are blank cartridges in the shotgun. You can tell them by the #2 engraved on the bottom of the shell.”

  The boy looked down at the shotgun in his hands and Dante wondered if he were about to break the gun open and study the shells. But no, when the boy raised his head again, there was anger in his eyes and Dante knew his deception had failed.

  “You’re trying to fool me,” the boy said.

  Dante shouted to his brother.

  “Throw it, Nerio!”

  The glass vase rocketed across the room and impacted with the boy’s chest. The thick glass was so heavy that it didn’t break, and it caused the boy to take a step backwards. At the same time, the shotgun went off and blew chunks out of the floor. Already off balance due to the vase, the recoil from the shotgun blast caused the boy to stumble and he took one hand off the shotgun to steady himself.

  That’s when Romy threw the TV remote at the boy and hit him in the right eye with it. The shotgun fell to the floor. The boy had one hand on the wall to steady him, while the other had flown up instinctively to touch his now tender eye.

  As big and fat as he was, Nerio still possessed speed, and he tackled the boy to the floor. Dante picked up the shotgun and told his brothers to back away from the boy. Once they were clear, Dante smiled down at the teen.

  “I guess I win after all,” he said, and fired the shotgun three times.

  Outside the villa, Maurice Scallato felt his breast swell with pride.

  His son had killed his first three men and would someday carry on the family tradition, ensuring that the name Scallato would continue to be feared and respected.

  Maurice smiled. He would reward the boy by gifting him the shotgun he used to make the kills. He would also treat him to another woman. A nearby town had a whorehouse that specialized in exotic women and Antonio could take his pick. Maurice’s smile grew wider. Hell, he would treat himself as well. It wasn’t every day that a man’s son proved himself worthy.

  Scallato pulled himself up to gaze back over the wall. He expected to see Antonio running toward him across the weedy lawn with a big smile on his face, instead, he saw only the hounds he’d drugged, and the night was filled with silence.

  Nerio Martello pointed at the space above Antonio’s head.

  “Why’d you shoot up the wall, Dante?”

  “I had to. Someone else knows the boy was coming here. That someone could be outside listening for the sound of shots.”

  Romy Martell pointed down at Antonio.

  “Look, the little asshole pissed his pants.”

  It was true. Antonio had urinated on himself when he was looking down the barrel of the shotgun. Until Dante raised the weapon and fired into the wall above his head, he thought he was about to die.

  Dante handed Nerio the rifle, then left the room for a few moments. When he returned, he held a roll of duct tape. After kneeling beside Antonio, he instructed Romy to help him bind the boy’s hands. Antonio struggled, but that ceased after Nerio punched him on the side of the head and nearly caused him to pass out.

  “Not too hard, Nerio. We need him to walk,” Dante said.

  While Antonio was still dazed, Dante placed a wide strip of duct tape over his mouth. Panic entered the boy’s eyes, but with his wrists taped together behind his back, there wasn’t much he could do.

  Then, they were on the move and heading for the rear of the villa. They kept a pair of ATV’s in what used to be the estate’s barn, and there was a trail back there that went on for miles.

  Nerio complained. He wanted them to search the grounds to see if anyone else was around.

  “Not in the dark,” Dante whispered. “The dogs aren’t around, haven’t you noticed? Someone killed or disabled them, and I doubt it was this boy. But don’t worry, before we’re through with him, he’ll tell us all we need to know. We’ll round up his accomplices when it suits us.”

  “It must just be a bunch of boys,” Romy offered. “No adult would have sent this kid here to kill us. That’s funny, the boys in this town have more guts than the men.”

  “Maybe,” Dante said. “But stay quiet and keep your guns ready, we may run into trouble.”

  Dante’s warning proved to be unneeded as they reached the barn without incident, that is, after Nerio broke one of Antonio’s toes. Antonio had attempted to escape the brute’s grip by stamping on his foot. Nerio returned the favor by slamming the barrel of the shotgun down on the big toe of Antonio’s left foot. The sneakers the boy wore offered no protection from the blow and his eyes grew teary from the pain, as a muffled howl had escaped him.

  After grabbing a pair of shovels from the barn, they started the ATV’s and took off with their lights on. The sound of the motors would travel some distance and there was no way to avoid that, but they would be going off-road, while anyone attempting to follow would likely only have a conventional vehicle.

  If anyone else was involved, the boy would give up their names, after all, there were plenty of toes left to break.

  17

  A Night Out On The Town

  In Rome, Sara had talked Tanner into going out for dinner, but then found that every decent restaurant was packed or required a reservation.

  Tanner then surprised Sara by taking her to a club where the crowd was mostly college age and the music was classic American country.

  “You like this music?” Sara asked.

  “I grew up in Texas, remember?”

  “I grew up in Connecticut, so I never heard much country music.”

  “So what sort of music did you listen to, classical?”

  “Hardly, I was a metal head, and oh, I so loved Bruce Springsteen and a band called The Bouncing Souls.”

  Space was tight in the club as well, and so they had to share a table with another couple. The man was Australian, while his wife was a native of Rome. They were both only twenty-two, newlyweds, and had recently graduated from college.

  Sara declined the man’s invitation to dance, since she knew none of the dance steps and wanted to sit with Tanner while they were both relaxed for once. But, to Sara’s surprise, Tanner accepted an invitation to dance from the young wife.

  Sara then sat spellbound as Tanner not only kept up with the woman, but danced as if he did it all the time. He returned to the table, as the woman’s husband joined her on the dance floor. Sara slapped Tanner on the arm playfully.

  “I didn’t know you could dance.”

  “I grew up dancing to these old country songs; dancing was a good way to pick up girls when I was a kid.”

  “You could pick me up… if I wasn’t already yours.”

  “Are you now
?”

  “You know I want to be with you.”

  The tables were small, and they were sitting close together. Tanner leaned toward Sara and they kissed. The kiss lasted several seconds, and when it ended, Sara sighed.

  “Hmm, I knew you’d be a good kisser.”

  Tanner stared at her, then stood abruptly and tossed money onto the table. It was more than enough to pay for their tab and that of the couple they’d been sitting with. Afterward, Tanner took Sara by the hand and led her from the club. She followed him without speaking as he guided her across the street to where a taxi sat.

  As they climbed into the vehicle, Tanner gave the cabby the name of their hotel.

  Tanner and Sara kissed all during the short ride. By the time they reached their destination, Tanner’s hands were exploring beneath Sara’s blouse.

  She hadn’t said a word since the club, had only moaned in pleasure, but as Tanner pulled her into his room, she spoke.

  “We shouldn’t… what about Scallato?”

  Tanner shoved a heavy dresser in front of the door.

  “Fuck Scallato!”

  Sara laughed, but then grew quiet as she reached over and unbuttoned Tanner’s shirt.

  “Who’s Paolo?” Dante Martello said.

  He was talking to Antonio, who was on the ground and holding his foot. The fat one, Nerio, had broken another of Antonio’s toes and forced him to talk. They were high up in the rugged hills where a section of the land was more sandy soil than rock. It made for easier digging when a grave was needed. Dante was certain at least one grave would have to be dug, with more to follow once the boy talked.

  “Paolo is my best friend,” Antonio said. “His father runs the hotel in town. He bet me that I wouldn’t have the guts to break into the villa and scare you. That’s all this was, I was just trying to scare you.”

  “Um-hmm, and why would you want to scare us?”

  “Because… because… your brothers! They’re always hitting on my mother when she goes to town. I just wanted to scare them and make them stop.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “No, I swear it’s the truth.”

  Dante gazed impassively at Antonio for several seconds as he adjusted his position. He was leaning back against one of the ATV’s, with the shotgun and shovels propped up beside him. The shotgun had been reloaded and was ready to be used.

  Dante spoke to his brother.

  “Break another toe, Nerio, but this time on the other foot, the boy can’t dig if he can’t stand up.”

  Nerio, the fat one, approached Antonio again and the boy shouted something incoherent through sobs.

  Dante held up a hand to stop Nerio, then asked Antonio a question.

  “Are you ready to tell us the truth now?”

  Antonio nodded and began talking rapidly. He told them he was the son of the world-famous assassin Maurice Scallato and that his father had given him orders to kill them. By the end of his confession, young Antonio was nearly babbling as he mentioned something about the puppies.

  Dante looked down at the boy with irritation showing on his face. After reaching back to grab the shovel that was leaning beside the shotgun, he tossed the tool at Antonio.

  “Start digging!”

  “But I told you the truth.”

  “Dig!”

  Antonio stood and gazed all about as if he were looking for something, or someone, but there was no one there. After picking up the shovel, he limped to his right and bit at the earth with the shovel’s blade. And while he dug what he assumed would be his grave, he wept.

  “That’s deep enough,” Dante said. He was standing at the edge of a four-foot hole that Antonio had made.

  Antonio gazed up at him with a tear-stained face. He was barely visible in the light from the crescent moon that hung overhead.

  “I’ll give you one last chance to save yourself,” Dante lied. “Who else knows about this?”

  “I told you the truth. Maurice Scallato is my father and he sent me to kill you.”

  “Every schoolboy in Europe knows about the Scallato’s, and I have heard stories about the one named Maurice. If you were really the son of Maurice Scallato my brothers and I would all be dead men. Romy?”

  “Yeah, Dante?” said the tall one.

  “Pass me the shotgun; I’m tired of hearing this boy’s lies.”

  “Where is it?”

  “The shotgun? I left it leaning against the side of the ATV.”

  “It’s not there.”

  “What do you mean it’s not there? Nerio, did you move it?”

  “No.”

  “I have it,” said a cold voice from the darkness. An instant later, that darkness brightened three times in quick succession as the shotgun roared. Dante was the first to be struck, as steel pellets shredded his legs and he went tumbling down into the hole. Nerio, the fat one, had the left side of his head blown away, while his taller brother Romy took a blast to the chest, and died before hitting the ground.

  Antonio scrambled out of the hole by stepping on Dante’s head and found himself lying at his father’s feet. When he looked up at his father, Antonio saw an expression that turned his blood cold.

  “Patri? I’m so sorry, Patri. I, I, they caught me.”

  Scallato ignored him, grabbed the shovel, and tossed it beside him.

  “Dig two more graves.”

  After Antonio picked himself up from the ground, Scallato straddled the hole and glared down at Dante.

  Dante was hissing through gritted teeth, but he submerged the agony enough to call out to his brothers.

  “Nerio? Romy?”

  “They’re dead,” Scallato said.

  Dante cried out in grief, then convulsed with a spasm from the pain of his damaged knees. He might never walk again, but he would live if he were to receive care. He was not going to live.

  “Are you?” Dante asked.

  “Am I what?”

  “Him, Maurice Scallato?”

  “I am.”

  A moment passed as Dante groaned while balling up his fists against the pain of his wounds, but then he spoke again.

  “I don’t want to die. I can give you money.”

  “You’ll die, and I’ll find your money. I assume it’s hidden somewhere inside the villa.”

  The look on Dante’s face told Scallato that he had guessed right. Scallato moved over to the ATV, grabbed the other shovel, and began filling in the hole. Dante’s protests ended in a garbled sound after Scallato tossed dirt in his mouth.

  Scallato looked over at his son and saw the shocked look on his face.

  “Keep digging, Antonio; maybe you’re at least good enough to do that right.”

  Antonio went back to digging, while feeling lower than the dirt he shoveled.

  18

  The Morning After The Night Before

  Sara awoke to find the sun lighting the windows, and the room had a golden glow from the color of the linen drapes. It matched the glow in her cheeks.

  After turning her head, Sara saw that Tanner was no longer beside her, then, she smiled at her memories of the night just passed. Gradually, she became aware she wasn’t alone, as she heard the repetitive movements coming from beyond the foot of the bed.

  Sara sat up and leaned forward. Tanner was on the floor and doing pushups with an ease that was impressive. He wore only a pair of boxer shorts, and his hard, wiry muscles rippled. Sara watched him, and began keeping count, after more than a hundred repetitions, she saw Tanner stop, bring his knees up, and transition into a headstand.

  Sara crawled to the end of the bed and saw Tanner smile at her upside down.

  “Good morning,” he said.

  “If you’ve got that much energy, get back in bed.”

  Tanner slowly lowered his legs. Passed them between his arms, then supported himself on just his fingertips. He still failed to exhibit any sign of strain or exertion.

  “I hadn’t worked out in a while; neglecting that could prove deadly in my p
rofession.”

  “Last night wasn’t enough of a workout for you?”

  “It was the best night I’ve had in a long time.”

  Tanner stood, then leaned over and kissed Sara. She tried to pull him back into bed, but he resisted.

  “I’m sweaty and need a shower.”

  She released him and nodded.

  “Okay.”

  As Tanner disappeared into the bathroom, Sara leaned back against the headboard and pulled the sheet up to cover herself.

  She sat there thinking as the sounds of the shower could be heard in the background. She asked Tanner a question the moment he stepped back into the room.

  “What did last night mean to you?”

  Tanner had been tightening a towel about his waist. He looked at her and asked his own question.

  “Having regrets, are we?”

  “No! And I’m sorry to ask that out of the blue, but I know you, Tanner. At one time, I even made a study of you. You’ve had more than your share of one-night stands.”

  Tanner sat on the edge of the bed and leaned over to kiss Sara.

  “You’re not a one-night stand.”

  Sara made a face.

  “You must think I’m insecure, but this, us, it’s not something I take lightly. We literally survived each other to get to this point in our relationship. I’d hate to think you don’t really care about me.”

  “You want us to be exclusive? I have no problem with that.”

  “Really?”

  “I won’t cheat on you.”

  Sara said nothing else, but Tanner saw that something was on her mind.

  “What? Speak up, Blake.”

  She touched him on the cheek.

  “No Blake, only Sara from now on. And, it’s just that I’m wondering if this was too soon after Alexa.”

  “You’re not a rebound love affair, Sara. Even Alexa knew I had feelings for you, although I denied it.”