The energy in the room changed, confusion and chaos turning into some kind of horror show. A warehouse full of men who were unarmed, an audience to a circus they didn’t sign up for.
And I was the fucking ringleader.
Luigi continued to stand there, all the arrogance sucked out of his face just the way his youth had been. His breaths were more noticeable than they’d been before, and his eyes didn’t have that heartless contrition they’d possessed a moment ago.
“I said, take a seat.”
“I’m a man,” he said with a clipped voice. “I’ll die on my own two feet.”
“Your death is undetermined—at the moment.” I walked up to the table then stabbed my knife into the surface, impaling it deep in the wood, daring him or one of his cronies to take it. “The boss will make his decision soon enough.” Then I yelled, yelled loudly enough to make every man in front of me flinch. “Now sit the fuck down!”
Luigi took in an involuntary breath before he returned to his seat, almost slipping off it because his gait was so uneven.
“Call your son.”
“What—what?” His eyes moved up to me, and within seconds, his tanned skin faded to the color of sand.
“Call. Your. Son.”
The horror of his reality became apparent in his terrified eyes. He’d foolishly assumed this meeting was a victory lap, but it was actually a funeral march.
When he didn’t reach for his phone, I slammed my hand on the table again and made it bounce. “I won’t ask you again.”
He fumbled as he reached for his phone in his pocket. He took it out and dropped it on the floor, and one of his cronies grabbed it for him before setting it on the table. Now Luigi was a mess, his hands shaking so much that he could barely unlock his screen. Couldn’t remember his son’s number by heart, so he looked in his contact list, his hands trembling so much, he dropped the phone more than once.
“Hurry up, old man.” I snatched the knife from the table then sauntered toward Don Mancini and Elio.
Don Mancini’s stare was as rigid as his body, like he was near a wild lion and he was trying to remain absolutely still to avoid my wrath.
I grinned. “Isn’t this fun?”
Don Mancini didn’t say a word.
“Should turn on some music in here,” I said as I turned back to Luigi while his sweaty fingers continued to press the screen. “Kinda feel like dancing.” I stopped and did a little shake of my hips before I spun the knife again.
Luigi finally made the call. “I’m—I’m calling.” He put the phone to his ear.
I snatched the phone from his hand and set it on the table.
Then I heard the sound of a ring, but not from the phone on the table. It came from inside the warehouse, quiet and distant.
I cupped one hand to my ear as I craned my neck. “Anyone hear that?”
It rang again, coming from the crates against the wall.
“Huh, looks like it’s coming from over here.” I walked over to the boxes, to the one with the red mark on the side that my guy had put there last night. “That’s strange…” I turned around and leaned against the crate as the phone inside the wooden box continued to ring. “Why would Dante’s phone be in here?” I rubbed my fingers across my chin as I feigned thoughtfulness. “Any ideas, Luigi Lombardi?”
Luigi was a mess now, hyperventilating when the realizationhit him, listening to his son’s phone ring from a coffin. “No…no.”
Don Mancini’s eyes widened as he looked at me, his expression a mix of horror and terror…and maybe respect?
Leo flat-out smirked.
Luigi left his chair and rushed to the crate that I leaned against. “No.” He tried to pull it apart with his hands, but it was nailed shut.
“Allow me.” I stabbed through the opening in the top then used it as leverage to pop the lid. I pushed the top aside and then tipped the box over, his son’s body rolling out, his wrists and ankles tied together. An oxygen mask was secured to his face, and a small tank was with him to make sure he could get air while he was drugged. He didn’t even know he’d been in a box because I’d knocked him out before I’d put him in the crate.
“Dante!” Luigi dropped to his knees in front of his son. “Is he alive? Dante?”
