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“You’re a slippery little fuck, aren’t you?” Donny seethes.
He commands so much control, between my terrified heat beats, I find myself insanely drawn to him.
“Why were the Valentinos shunned from this card game?” Donny asks.
“I didn’t ask. I just do as I’m told. Joey Barone makes the rules, and I follow,” John says.
“Well, tonight you break them. As partial payment for groping what’s mine, you’re going to admit one of my men into the game.”
John stiffens. “The capos, they’ll know—”
Donny shakes his head. “No, they won’t. He’ll be joining as an importer. Call him… Terry, from the old country.”
John nods hesitantly.
“He’ll be introduced to all the important connections, by you. And if anything funny goes on, anything at all, I’ll leave your kids orphaned and scarred. They’ll have no one else to blame but you.”
Brutal silence fills the car. The already black windows are further fogged by the heat of anxiety.
“Do we understand each other? The Barones are not to know the Valentinos are involved.”
John gulps, but nods.
“I want to hear you say it.”
“I understand, Donny. It will be done without a hitch.” John holds up his free hand like he’s taking an oath.
“Good.” Donny flicks the knife back into his pocket. “Now, as for the rest of the payment.”
John whimpers. “What do you mean? N—no.”
Donny fastens a set of brass knuckles onto his already intimidating fist. “This is my woman. Ellie Rigiano belongs to me. You, John, put your slimy hands on something that belongs to me.”
John shakes his head fast enough to pick up a breeze.
“Don’t worry. I’ll let you keep your fingers, this time. And I know you’re hosting tonight, so it’s in my best interest to keep your face intact.”
Wham!
Donny’s clasped fist rams into John’s ribs without warning. He hits so hard there’s an audible crack and I turn the other way.
“But I’m pretty good at shattering ribs.”
John wilts like a dying flower and coughs pathetically.
While I hate violence, I don’t feel bad for him. Who knows how far he would’ve gone if the circumstances were different.
The grim reaper lives in Donny’s grey eyes, activated because of me.
It does something to my insides. I’m not entirely sure what.
“You’ll never touch her again. You’ll never so much as glance in her direction,” Donny warns. And before John can respond, another jab to his opposite ribs sends an awful groan reverberating throughout the car. “Oh, please. Stop with your melodrama.” Donny flexes his fist.
John doesn’t stop coughing.
“Are we clear, John?”
“Yes.” His voice is a wheeze.
