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“We’re in the right place.”
“Calabresi has a habit of going to places they don't need to be,” he grunted, narrowing his eyes.
“Where’s Cono?”
“Not here,” he answered.
“If he’s here and we leave, it won't be good for him.”
“Sartori runs the entire block. Find you something to play with, maybe that sweet little pussy you call a wife,” his friend said.
After quickly unholstering my weapon, I shot him between the eyes. He fell into the hands of his friends.
“Oh, my God!” a woman screamed.
“Shit, Vincenzo,” Sante grumbled, pulling out his gun.
“You shot him!” their leader shouted, taking out his gun.
“We can end this now or figure out a way to coexist.”
“Fuck coexisting. Cono told us about you trying to stiff him out of a seat with the alliance,” their leader pushed.
“Savio!” A loud voice came from the back, and we saw Cono march into the room as other people scrambled to leave.
“Let's go.”
“I’m not working off your emotions. Business is business, I have a right to get in the alliance,” Cono suggested.
“We have more to talk about, unless you’d like to see more of your people dead.” I shoved the gun into his chest.
“If you do anything to me, my niece will never forgive you,” Cono taunted.
His comment made me think twice about putting the trigger. Nyla had tried daily to build a relationship with him—and even though he lied to her, it wouldn't be fair to end him without her knowing the full story.
“Take him with us.” Snagging him around the shirt, I pushed him toward my guards, walking back to our car.
“Where are you taking me?” Cono investigated.
“We need information on Gianney.”
“Gianney who?” Cono replied.
“Stop acting dumb.” Pushing him up against the wall, I pressed the gun underneath his chin.
“We have evidence of you with Gianney. What are you two hiding?” Renato appeared next to me.
Cono scanned the sight of Calabresi surrounding him.
“I don’t know Gianney,” Cono spat, and Renato raised his fist and punched him in the stomach.
Dropping down low, Renato whispered in his ear, and Cono’s eyes showed he was shocked.
“Bring him on,” Renato said.
“Hold up,” I said, lifting my ringing phone to answer.
My assistant spoke. “Mr. Calabresi.”
