Page 90 of Revenge on the Mafia

“Mine too.”

A pause. “What do you want?”

“Need you to find someone for me.”

“Why?” I could hear him moving. “You can find anyone. I suspect you have a network in outer space.”

“I’m hoping you’ll stop me.”

He laughed. “Your life right now is better than any series.”

“Glad to entertain” I said bitterly.

In the background, a computer switched on. “Name.”

“Joel Laguna.”

“Interesting,” he murmured.

“I don’t want to hear it,” I gritted through my teeth.

“Spanish name.”

“I know.” I scrubbed my hand across my face. “Don’t find him.” I was afraid of what I would do.

“You seem to have got your wires mixed.”

I paced down the hallway outside my room door. Thirty-four wooden planks. Eight inches wide. I’d walked past her once when she’d been mopping the floor. The mop had wiped the third, fourth, and fifth plank for the entire nineteen seconds I’d taken to walk to the stairs.

“He’s in New York.” Fuck. He should have left. “But you knew that already.”

I did. He was in my house. On my fucking sofa, where he’d had his fucking paw all over my fucking wife. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“Oh,” Stefano whistled. I knew he’d tracked his phone. “Your buddy's out.”

“Took you long enough to find him,” I muttered.

“I’m going to ignore that, but you need to get laid. Your blue balls are pissing me off.”

If we upped the interest rate by half a percent… why the hell was he taking so long to give me the info? “Well, fucking tell me.”

“Thought you didn’t want to know.”

My frustration spilled out in a groan. “I don’t.”

I could practically hear his smirk. “Is it the time of the month?”

“Fine.” I took the stairs three at a time. “I’ll find him myself.”

“There’re teens who are more sure of themselves than you. He’s clubbing. At one of our clubs, of all places.”

“Well, we own the fucking town. I’d hope it was one of our clubs.”

Fuck. I should keep him alive. “Don’t tell me which one.”

“Fine.”

Let him put his paws all over her when I was rotting six feet under. I grabbed hold of my keys and strode out. “Which one is it?”