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“Sorry for my loss?” he repeats. “Who the fuck are you?” He narrows his blue eyes.
“Let’s just say I’m someone with information that you might be interested in.”
Sonny shakes his head and smirks but not in an amused way. I get the sense he’s getting annoyed. I speed things up.
“Listen, I know who shot your brother. I can give you a name.”
He turns down the corners of his wide mouth, nodding slowly. “Oh yeah? In exchange for what?”
I smile. Exactly the question I wanted to hear.
“I need help with something. A kidnapping.” I take a swig of my drink, acting as casual as possible although my palms are sweaty and my heart’s hammering in my chest. Despite frequenting poker and gambling dens these past few years, I’m no gangster myself and I wonder if he can tell I’m just a desperate man trying to orchestrate a solution to a couple of problems.
He laughs without mirth and drains his bottle. “Not interested,” he says but he doesn’t leave. His whiskey chaser still sits on the bar. I take that as a sign that he might be interested, after all.
“What about if I guaranteed you a decent pay day too? You get to find out who shot your brother and get a massive bag of cash just for coordinating a simple exchange.” I say with a bit more confidence. At least he’s listening.
I watch him considering my proposition.
“Kidnap who?” he asks, sniffing.
“A kid.”
“Whose kid?”
“The kid of the man who shot your brother.”
“What, and then shoot him? An eye for an eye?” He gives me a shit-eating grin and a shiver snakes slowly up my spine.
Fuck’s sake! Is that his default thought process? Kill Micah?! Maybe this was a mistake.
“No, I’m not talking about killing a fucking kid,” I say, disgusted.
He picks up the shot of whiskey, throws it back and slams it on the sticky bar. He sneers at me and turns to leave.
“Woah, wait…” I grab his arm and he freezes, as solid as a statue. He looks down at my hand then back at my face with a murderous expression. One of the kids playing pool glances in our direction over the top of his positioned cue. I release my grip and hold both palms up in a placatory gesture, hoping the situation won’t escalate. The warm air in the dingy low-ceilinged bar suddenly feels thick.
Sonny steps back towards me. He’s taller than me with a wider chest and I see a vision of him in my mind’s eye in a dusty, war-ravaged country wearing full uniform and holding an automatic rifle, in his element. For the first time since we started talking, I realize how very wrong this meeting could go for me if I’m not careful. I’m probably already in too deep now to just walk away.
I let out a breath in relief as he nods for me to continue. “The kid’s innocent,” I say to him. “He doesn’t get hurt. We just kidnap him and hold him to ransom in a remote location—a warehouse in the industrial district or somewhere. That’ll freak his father out and he’ll then bring the money that his grandfather will stump up. The grandfather’s good for a huge pay out, believe me. And you’ll get time alone with his father after the drop to make him pay for shooting your brother, in whatever way you see fit.”
I must admit, it’s a genius plan. I don’t want to think about how much it’ll freak Cecelia out too though. But Sonny doesn’t need to know that I’m gonna be the hero and swoop in and ‘save’ Micah after I get my hands on Dante’s money. Because how else am I gonna be able to provide the kind of life Cecelia deserves? My own father made it clear I was on my own after I gambled away the lump sum I inherited when I turned twenty-five, as per my trust fund. The lump sum I always knew was coming that was supposed to set me up for life—place to live, business to run—but which I’d already borrowed heavily against and had to pay back if I wanted to keep my eyes, teeth, and fingers. I think he was glad of a legitimate excuse to practically disown me. The rest I frittered on roulette proving that I couldn’t even win when the odds were fifty-fifty. And now it seems it’s the same with Cece and I’m losing out to Luciano. But she will want a life with me after I save the most precious thing in her life—her son. What happens to Sonny—and Luciano—after the kidnapping is not my concern.
“How huge a pay out?” he asks.
I know this nugget of information has the potential to swing this. I paid Bruno handsomely not only to find out that Sonny is Anthony’s Ricci’s brother, but also that he was dishonorably discharged from the Italian Armed Forces. Pension automatically wiped. He probably needs this money as much as I do.
“Two million,” I confirm. “A million each. Straight down the middle.”
His cogs turn as he thinks about it.
“Okay, so what’s the name of the guy who shot my brother?”
“Are you in?” I ask.
He grins at me again. “Tell me his name and I’ll tell you if I’m in.”
Backed into a corner, I weigh up my options. If I tell him now, he could just walk out of here with that information and not help me. But he might go straight after Luciano, which, I admit, would be a bonus. I’d have lost nothing, but I wouldn’t have gained anything either, especially not Cece’s gratitude or Dante’s millions, which I desperately need to help me get back on my feet now that my father’s washed his hands of me. Or I could tell him, and he’ll help me kidnap Micah and we’ll both end up rich. And he’ll no doubt kill Luciano. However, if I don’t tell him then he definitely won’t help me and he might lay into me, either right here and now or when I least expect it.
