Page 89 of Dirty Pool

Fuck.

Now, he couldn’t even get a phone call through. No one was picking up. Which, in a way, Michel would have brushed off because he knew all the places where he could find Sal and any other number of Italians with connections to the Capo.

The problem with that?

Simple.

“You’re not coming in,” the enforcer at the front of the restaurant said. “Besides, Sal ain’t even around today, man.”

Bullshit.

He wasn’t stupid, despite what these idiots might think about him. And there was no way in hell he was going away again. There were questions he needed answered, and he bet Sal was the only one who could do it.

If he couldn’t get to Gabbie, or an Irishman, then he was going for the Italians first. Depending on what he got from them, or what he thought he could use, then Michel had more choices to make. Possibly more options.

Except, he didn’t know what he could do at all when he knew nothing and could speak to no one.

Michel’s jaw ached from how hard he was clenching his molars in that moment. This was the third time in a week that he had been turned away from Sal’s restaurant. The man’s usual meeting place. In fact, he knew Sal was here for sure because the enforcer was watching the door, and Sal’s black town car was in the parking lot.

“I know he’s here,” Michel returned, “and the place is open for business, so—”

“You’re still not coming in.”

Goddammit.

Michel was very close to letting his anger spill over which wouldn’t be a good thing for him, or the people here. Acting out of anger never led to anywhere good, so he tried to tamper the reaction down a bit.

At least, for a second.

“At least go ask him if he’ll see me,” Michel argued.

The enforcer rolled his eyes upward. “I don’t have to ask. I know what I was told.”

“You know I can stand here all day, right?”

Not that he had the time. He was missing out on a day of classes for this, and he couldn’t afford that. It didn’t matter—eventually, Michel would get back to what was important in his life once he got the other important thing back.

Gabbie.

“It’s gonna be a boring day for you, then,” the enforcer replied.

Michel’s gaze narrowed, and he had the greatest urge to punch the cocky fucker right in his throat. “If you don’t go ask Sal—”

“Michel.”

The smoothly cool, yet still annoyed, tone coming from deeper within the entrance of the restaurant had the enforcer sighing. Then, the man stepped aside to allow Michel to see Sal had come to stand just beyond the doorway. The woman who usually worked the podium was gone, leaving just the three of them standing there alone.

Probably smart.

“You’re making a scene,” Sal told him.

Michel shrugged.

Was that a problem?

Good.

Sal was there.