Page 18 of Captivated

“All right.”

“Turn your phone off, and leave it that way until you’re done in this city.”

Joe shrugged. “My phone is at home. I grabbed a burner before I left the city, anyway. I didn’t know what I was coming for, and I don’t like to take chances. Only a few people have the number.”

John and Andino passed a glance between one another.

Andino spoke up first. “Use that one for your family, then. Ours for us.”

“Sure.”

John moved to the next item; the hotel key. “The boss—”

“Dante.”

“Yeah, the boss.”

John’s maybe.

Not Joe’s.

Still, respect was important, so Joe said, “The boss, yeah.”

“The boss has a permanent room at the Waldorf Astoria hotel in Manhattan that he and his wife like to use on occasion. They don’t expect to need it anytime soon, so he figured you might like it for your stay.”

“Under his name?”

“Do you think he’s that stupid?” John returned.

Joe smirked. “Had to ask.”

“It’s safe.”

Picking up the piece of paper—the last thing on the table—Joe unfolded the paper at the creases, and looked at the statement in front of him. “I hadn’t checked my account to see if he paid like I told him to, but half of the money is in my account now.”

Andino nodded. “Time to get to work, I guess.”

“What did George Earl and Martin Abraham do to the Marcellos that your boss is willing to have them both whacked?” Joe asked. “And mind you, lots of people die because of affiliations to the mob. I know this better than anyone. Not usually people who are this high profile, though. That spells bad news, you know?”

John cocked a brow.

Andino’s face went passive.

“Your job is to do what you’re told,” John replied quietly, “and not ask questions.”

Yeah …

Because that didn’t make Joe suspicious at all.

Jesus Christ.

What was going on?

Joe scanned the Manhattan Waldorf Astoria hotel room with an appreciative eye. Apparently, the Marcello boss didn’t like to cheap out when it came to places he stayed. The cost of this suite likely ran in the tens of thousands a month, if Joe had to guess.

He wasn’t complaining.

Rich, expensive tapestries and rugs gave the main room a nice decorative touch. A white leather chaise rested near the window with an afghan blanket tossed over the back. A loveseat and chair made up a sitting area in front of a flat screen television that nearly covered an entire wall. Gold chandeliers hung from high ceilings, and glinted from the lights.