Chapter One: Blood Money

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Niccolo's POV       

He had to kill the Hartmann Twins. It was the only reason why he accepted the invitation.

      Niccolo De Vico opened his suitcase and saw a pistol, a fully loaded magazine, and an Osprey suppressor all secured in a hidden compartment. The all black weapon was one he had become quite familiar with over the year and it was the first gun his father, Marco De Vico, had given him when he had turned seventeen. However, this wouldn't be the first time he would use it. Not at all.

         He flipped open the burner phone and read the old text message from his father once more.

         Get as close to them as possible. Take whatever you need from the vault, and remember, do not make this look like an accident. Our client wants this message to come across loud and clear. I know this will be harder than your other missions. Don't think of them as classmates and look at them like the targets they are. Because that's all they are now. Delete this message once you're with them. Good luck.

          The client that his father had mentioned was Liam Murhpy, the head of the Murphy Crime Family based in Boston. To say that this assignment was messy would be an understatement. Politics. Personal business. Lines that never should have been crossed. Lines that were crossed on a daily basis. It didn't matter to Murphy though. He lost his son, Malcolm, to the Hartmann Energy Limited Liability Company due to negligent behavior and now, he wanted them to lose their children. For whatever unknown reason which he would not discuss, Mr. Murphy didn't want to send out his own men to handle this. The De Vico's didn't ask any questions. If Liam could pay for the hit, that's all that mattered to Niccolo and his father. Everything else just became noise.

          Nick rummaged through his GOBAG. Assault rifle. Medkit. Ammunition. Poison. Wire. Combat knife. Extra set of clean clothes. Protein bars. Everything he needed in case this mission turned out uglier than he expected. His hand then drifted over to the pistol. He ran his fingers along the smooth surface of the black painted steel. Every so often, he would gleam past a ridge or slight curve. When De Vico closed his eyes, he could tell when he brushed over the muzzle. The barrel. The trigger. That part of the gun he knew best. The way the steel curved and how it resisted against the slightest pressure. Almost like the weapon asked, "Are you sure?"

           He tucked the bag underneath his bed and took one last look around the room in order to make sure everything was hidden away. Nothing seemed out of place. His luggage along with Robyn's sat in the corner of the spaceous room which consisted of a queen bed, a curved OLED TV, and a book shelf that lined the walls around it. All the knick knacks and trinkets hadn't left their place and the sheets remained unruffled like the staff had left it. No gun laid out in plain sight. No knife protruded from the wall. No bullets rolled along the wooden desk of the rocking boat.

           Niccolo left his bedroom satisfied and out into the hallway of the four floor yacht that was so aptly named, Jupiter. At two-hundred and sixty feet long and eighty feet tall, the word 'massive' would be an understatement. Hence the name. He had never been on a private boat so big before, but to be honest, he had never been on, or even seen, a luxury yacht in his life. The windows on the oak walls were twice the size of his head and the corridors were wide enough that three people could walk side by side with no problem.

           De Vico found himself mesmerized by the grandeur of it all. He knew the Hartmann brothers had money, at least, their parents did, but he never understood how much. The parties that Paul and Lukas threw back home when their parents weren't in town had always been wild and seizure inducing, yet, he never really saw the house. The lights were always off and more often than not, Nick found himself focused on a particular person rather than the building.

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