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1
I’m getting too old for this.
Domani takes his time examining the pliers on the tray. I’m never sure if my twin brother scrutinizes his tools so thoroughly because he’s a perfectionist, or if he likes to build the drama to a fever pitch just for fun.
The man tied to the metal chair sobs like he didn’t know what would happen if he crossed us. “I don’t know where the payment is! I had it, but it’s gone now. We were robbed, sir! Robbed!”
Lies. This lackey for the rival family knows exactly what happened to my money that went missing. It’s just a matter of getting him to talk.
Domani is not deterred. He’s got all night, thanks to me assigning our baby brother to the south end of the city.
I take out a cigar I don’t care about and guillotine the end. I don’t want to waste a good cigar on an underling. But it’s been a long day, and I don’t think we’re even close to the end of it, so I indulge in my favorite vice.
I shoot my twin a look that tells him I’m tired, but Dom doesn’t care. It’ll take as long as it takes to get the money the Torros stole from us.
The weasel squirms in his seat, his blood mixing with the tears that streak down his cheeks. “I don’t know where it is, sir! I swear, I don’t! No one tells me anything! You have to understand that I’m not high enough on the command chain of the Torros to know what’s cooking behind the scenes!”
Domani and I aren’t listening to the whining. It’s never all that interesting, since it always takes on the same predictable tune.
Denial, denial, denial, then begging, bargaining, and finally, the truth.
I don’t rush as I light my cigar, since we’re still in Denial Land. One more tooth removal, and I’ll bet we’ll move on to begging.
Weasels are usually particularly attached to their molars.
“It won’t be that much longer, Brunello,” Domani informs me.
I quirk an eyebrow at my twin. “That sure of yourself, are you?”
Dom doesn’t respond but turns back to his prey.
“Please! Please, sir! Please! I know where they keep the stash of cocaine to dole out to the dealers! I can tell you where it is, and you can take that. It should cover your losses.”
Jumping from begging to bargaining so quickly? Maybe I didn’t need to light this cigar after all.
I give an airy scoff. “What am I going to do with five-hundred grand worth of cocaine? You can shove that offer up your ass.” I nod to Domani, who goes back to work on the weasel’s teeth.
The man’s screams give me no joy, but I am even less jolly when I recall everything that went missing at the drop that was supposed to take place at the docks. One of our men is dead, so we owe the Torros a body. We didn’t get the jewels we were after because the suitcase of cash mysteriously went missing.
Now we’re out a reliable runner and five-hundred grand. Plus, our supplier is none too happy that the deal fell through. In a business like ours, reputation and reliability matter.
Domani is good at this sort of thing. He’ll get the information out of this guy.
Or the man has no idea who took the suitcase of cash. Either way, he’s dying tonight. We owe the Torros a body.
And they owe us five-hundred grand.
The Torros deal in cocaine. We don’t bother wasting our time with that. The Moretti family deals in jewels, which explains the gap in our current wardrobes. The Torros look like they don’t have two nickels to rub together. Even the men at the top of their family wear nothing but stained undershirts and old jeans.
A stark contrast to the expensive black suits the men in our organization wear without question. Our white starched dress shirts command respect when paired with shoes that cost more than any of the Torros’ busted-out cars.
Another tooth hits the tray. The peon is covered in blood and sweat. Domani is the best at what he does, because the weasel finally begins shedding the lies to get to the truth.
Domani keeps his emotionless expression trained on the selection of pliers as if the underling hasn’t spoken. He’s been saving the largest pair of pliers for the finale. The last man he used that on pissed himself and spilled all his secrets the second Dom picked it up.
“Stop!” The man’s bloody chest is heaving, and his words come out with a slight whistle from his missing teeth. He hangs his head in defeat that took an entire hour to reach. “In the basement. They stashed your money in a basement!”
Domani doesn’t speak unless he needs to, so I take over. I lean forward, leaving my spot along the far concrete wall. “Which basement? On which property of the Torros is our money being stored?”
