Page 96 of Unraveled

“Yellow?”

Gian nodded. “You’re sure that’s what it was.”

Cara blinked. “It was yellow. I see cars all the damn time, but not one like that.”

“All right.”

Gian cut the engine and got out of his vehicle, rounding the side to open Cara’s door. She simply stared up at him, unsure of what she was supposed to do. Chris had pulled up behind them, his car still running and waiting.

“Come on, get out,” Gian said, holding his hand for Cara to take.

“Why?”

“I have some business to handle, now.”

“Do you know who owns the car?”

“I know who owns a yellow car,” Gian replied unfazed. It was an odd color to have, especially in their business, when the intention was not to draw attention. “And that’s not for you to worry about.”

Chris had finally exited his own vehicle as Gian managed to convince Cara to get out of his car. He nodded to the man, and urged his lover toward the enforcer with a smile that was entirely forced.

Because inside?

Yeah, there he was pissed.

“Chris will take you to my penthouse for the evening,” Gian said. “I will be home later.”

Cara glanced over her shoulder at him. “Will you?”

“Of course.”

After he hurt somebody.

Louis Portella.

Gian repeated the name as he tugged his driving gloves at the wrists, making sure they were snug against his skin. He watched the twenty-three-year-old solider, Edmond’s grandson, stroll out of a strip joint with a grin on his face and not a fucking care in the world.

He figured he ought to let the guy have his happy moment. Shortly, there would be absolutely nothing for the guy to be happy about.

Quickly, Gian stepped out of his car, keeping the engine running. He hit the button on the fob to unlatch the trunk as he pulled his tie free from around his neck at the same time. Crossing the small parking lot without missing a beat, Gian came up behind Louis before the guy even knew what was happening.

Gian had already checked the place out while Louis was inside, enjoying the entertainment. The only camera was located directly in front of the business. None were set off to the side, where the cars were parked. He chose to strike now, because the lot was empty, and he didn’t know where Louis was heading next.

Time was always of the essence.

Gian used his tie to wrap around Louis’s neck, pulled it tight, and forced the man to the ground. Effectively cutting off the man’s airways and his ability to shout for help, Gian pulled the fool back across the lot toward his waiting trunk.

A single, hard kick to Louis’s face stopped the man’s fighting. Dead weight was a bit harder to pull along, but Gian didn’t mind. It was easier to stuff an unconscious man into the trunk of a car, rather than a conscious, fighting one.

Blood trickled out of Louis’s nose and mouth, staining the gray interior of the trunk. Gian made a disgusted noise at the sight, knowing he’d have to send his car in to have the interior ripped out and changed, before he slammed the trunk closed.

A half hour later, Gian used the barrel of his gun to poke Louis in the forehead to wake the man up. It took a whole minute for the guy to gain enough bearings to realize he was sitting in a junk yard, inside a beat-up Toyota. Louis yelled for a good two minutes, and Gian let him, knowing no one was coming to help.

It benefitted Gian greatly to know people who knew people.

Like a man who owned a junk yard.

“Didn’t your grandfather ever tell you it was a stupid idea to buy a yellow Camaro?” Gian asked.