I changed Francesca’s name in my phone toBaby, so if anyone saw my texts on my phone, they wouldn’t know it was my boss’s daughter. “It was my girl.”
“You got a girl?”
“Yep. And she’s fiiiine.” I looked forward again. A black gate opened for us, and we approached a small two-storywarehouse near the docks. It was quiet out because it was three in the morning. Everyone fast asleep on a weekday evening.
Our SUV came to a stop, and I hopped out, seeing the guards with their rifles stare us down like this was already hostile. They maintained their stance by the double doors that led to the meeting inside with Lombardi and his cronies.
The drivers stayed in the vehicles, having rifles if we needed cover.
I walked up first. “Evening, boys. Or, should I say, morning?”
They didn’t say a word to me, and the first one patted me down to check for guns.
The other moved to Andre and did the same to him.
The guy who frisked me found the knife I kept tucked inside my boot. He took it and straightened, holding it in front of me before he clicked his tongue and shook his head.
“You said no guns.” I grabbed his wrist and twisted it quickly before I slammed my other hand down on his, hitting him so hard he dropped the knife. With killer instincts, I reached out and grabbed it. “But nothing about knives.” I turned the handle back and forth so theblade would catch the light before I tucked it back into my boot.
The guy lifted his rifle and pointed the barrel straight at my chest and put his finger to the trigger.
“Ooh, big man with a big gun.” I stepped forward, pushing my body into the barrel as I drove him back. “Gonna blow this whole deal for your boss because his little boy never learned how to play with guns?”
His ferocity wavered when I mocked him, the pressure against my chest decreasing as he pulled the rifle away slightly.
I gave the rifle a hard shove. “Get that shit outta my face.” Then I spat on him. “Figgh’i buttana.”
His comrade put a hand to his shoulder and stopped him from escalating it.
Don Mancini and everyone else had checked in during our altercation, so we were permitted to enter the warehouse, a single long table in the center of the cavernous room, Lombardi and his cronies already seated, waiting for us.
I looked at the large wooden crates stacked up against the wall and looked for the one with the streak of red paint down the side.
Don Mancini took the lead and approached the table. “Luigi.”
“Vincenzo, have a seat.”
Don Mancini pulled out the chair in the center and sat down. Elio took the seat beside him and Leo on the other side.
I lingered in the back with Andre and Nicola, bodyguards without guns. I crossed my arms over my chest and looked at the open gallery upstairs, a walkway with doors that led to another part of the building, a perfect angle to shoot all of us like fish in a barrel.
The men had a long and obnoxious stare-down like American wrestlers on TV.
Vincenzo drummed his fingertips on the top of the table, and it was so quiet that every tap sounded like a drum. “This is the part where you apologize then grovel and beg for forgiveness, and I mercifully consider it. But you’ve been silent far longer than I care for.”
Luigi Lombardi was older than Don Mancini, by at least ten years. He brought his hands together and interlocked his fingers on the surface of the old wooden table. “We’ve known each other a long time. You come from a good family, and you’re good people. But let’s be honest, the world has evolved, and you’ve failed to evolve with it.”
“The fuck’s that supposed to mean?” Don Mancini asked.
I knew exactly what it meant—that he was too soft. That they didn’t admire that softness. That he wasn’t tough enough to be an ally in this brutal game.
“Vincenzo, let’s be real,” Lombardi said as he leaned forward. “The only reason you found those guns is because of that stray pit bull that wandered onto your property.” He glanced at me behind him before he looked at Don Mancini.
That was offensive to pit bulls—because they were a hell of a lot nicer than me.
“Not sure what you did to get him to join you, if I’m honest.”
I said nothing, knowing if I intervened, it would just make Don Mancini look weak.
