Page 89 of Lucian

“But you’re considering it?” Lucian asked, surprised.

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Let’s get a start on this day. Gio’s guy first, yeah?”

Lucian nodded, dropping the topic. “Gio’s guy first.”

Both brothers exited the Lexus, leaving it parked on the side of the street as they walked across the road. They wouldn’t be in the place for long, so Lucian left the car running. Lucian scanned the small signs on the building with the address he’d been given, noting the lawyer’s they needed to speak with was located towards the alley.

“Ready for some Marcello fun?” Lucian asked as he held open the door.

Dante smirked. “Always am.”

Thirty minutes later, Lucian stood behind a lawyer known for his class-action ability in the courtroom, and his gambling addiction on the streets. He wasn’t important enough for Lucian to call the man by name, but money owed to any brother was money owed to their father.

That shit couldn’t be had.

Dante leaned back in the armless leather chair across from the man’s desk and crossed his left ankle over his right knee. Sometimes, especially when his younger brother was like this, Lucian was taken aback at how much he imitated their father without even realizing it. As if it was nothing at all, Dante’s mask would flip, and suddenly he wasn’t just a young man, but a hardened, cold, emotionless being born from crime.

“Two-hundred G’s. That’s a big debt to owe. And you’ve owed it for … what, eight weeks, now? That’s unacceptable. From what I understand, none of Giovanni’s previous messages to gain back his loan worked.”

“Messages?” the lawyer choked out.

“You’re a lawyer, surely you understand.” Lucian shrugged. “It’s a nicer term than threats and less illegal.”

“It is,” Dante agreed. “And this one is a much more up close and personal one for you. It isn’t often debtors have a face-to-face meeting with the underboss nowadays. Consider yourself lucky.”

Lucian hadn’t done much to the lawyer but frighten him and smack him around a little while Dante sat in his chair, calm and unfazed, explaining why they were there and what was going to happen during the meeting. It’d been a couple years since Lucian and Dante were able to work together like this … and it felt like old times.

Good memories.

“So,” Dante continued, setting his foot back to the floor and standing from the chair, “… this is how we’re going to make this thing work, Mr. Crain. No more screwing around, you have a week to pay the loan back.”

“A week?” the man asked, still breathless from an earlier rib shot.

Dante moved fast, too swift for the man to react. Not that he could have, as Lucian was still looming behind him, the threat he couldn’t forget. Like a flash, Dante’s hands struck out and grabbed the lawyer’s, drawing them to the very edge of the desk as his fingers dug into the backs of the man’s knuckles.

“Oh, I so wish I’d brought my pocketknife along with me today just to collect the first late payment,” Dante said, staring the man right in the face and smiling. “I don’t like to repeat myself, so be sure to listen well from here on out. One week. For every week you’re late, I’ll have one of your fingers cut off to be used as a wind chime on the deck of my Fifth Avenue condo. It should go nicely with the twenty-million dollar view. You can add an extra fifteen percent interest on top of the money you already owe because you’ve tested my patience today. Understood?”

Swallowing hard, the lawyer nodded frantically. “Yeah … Yes, o-okay.”

“Good to hear.” Dante let him go. “Lucian?”

With Dante’s go-ahead for the final warning, Lucian’s hand slammed into the back of the lawyer’s head with crushing force. Because he wasn’t expecting it, there was no resistance. The man’s face hit the flat, hard wood top of his desk with a sickening crunch. Blood, teeth, saliva, and cartilage spilled from a broken mouth and nose.

“Stop smiling so damned much on those awful commercials of yours,” Lucian said above him. “This should help. Someone will be back to see you next week, Mr. Crain.”

As the brother’s walked out of the lawyer’s office and down the hall to where his secretary waited, Dante greeted the woman behind her desk with a charming, confidant smile. “He told me to let you know he’s a little worn out, so he’s going to take a nap. Again, we’re sorry for the unexpected meeting, but he knew we were coming.”

“That’s okay, but I didn’t get your name,” the girl said.

Lucian grinned. “You don’t need it.”

Walking down the long staircase that led to the alley, Lucian fixed his jacket and tie for the fifth time. Just as he made a move to push open the door, the rapid sound of assault gunfire had him dropping against the door and grabbing for the weapon in the back of his pants. Dante followed suit, crouched low to the wall with a Magnum in his grip.

As quickly as the gunfire came, it was gone.

The sound of a familiar car alarm ringing through the street was loud and clear.

“This isn’t a part of town where a drive by would be common,” Dante said, glancing up at Lucian.