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Gino’s gambling addiction wasn’t my problem.
“And the kids, they were just teenage shitbags. They would have been high on something whether I gave it to them or not.”
“And you thought my orders were open to interpretation? Gabe,” I said, turning to my brother. “Do I look like the kind of man who lets others decide what I really mean?”
Gabe laughed. “About as much as I look like the Queen of England. I could pull off the crown though, don’t you think?”
Gabe and Cesare sniggered.
“How many, Gino? How many children did you get hooked on my product?” I asked.
“Just them. Just those two kids in the picture, I swear.”
I nodded to Salvatore, and he slammed the guy’s head into the desk.
“Let’s try this again,” I said while a bloody goose egg formed on Gino’s brow. “How many?”
“All right, there were more. But it doesn’t matter,” he whined.
I nodded to Salvatore once again, but Gino threw up his hands.
“Wait. Please, let me explain.”
I crossed my arms over my chest and nodded to Gino.
“Those kids, I didn’t recruit them to sell your product,SignorCosta. I swear,” he sputtered out.
I glanced pointedly at the photo in his lap.
“I mean, I recruited them,si, but not for you. I needed the money, but I know you don’t like selling to kids,SignorCosta... but there’s others... other people who don’t have a problem with it.”
“In my territory?”
The guy was still going to die, but now he was going to die slowly and painfully.
“But it isn’t your market,SignorCosta, so I figured what would you care?” Gino’s eyes looked wild, as he scrambled for an excuse.
Gino had figured wrong.
“Whose product was it?” I asked.
“I don’t know, I swear. Some guy—Berlusconi—just gave me the stuff and said I could keep thirty percent. He never told me who the stuff belonged to, and I didn’t ask. It was a lot of money. I needed the money,SignorCosta. My kids—”
“Don’t make excuses, Gino. Your children didn’t gamble away the money I’ve given you.”
I took note that Gino mentioned Berlusconi, too.
“But I was going to lose my home—”
“And now you’re going to lose your life.”
Gino had no more information he could give me. I nodded to Salvatore and Cesare, and they yanked him up out of his seat.
“How you finish him off is up to you,” I told them. “Be sure to get creative.” Salvatore had a real flair when it came to stopping a heart. “But don’t make a mess in his wife’s home,” I reminded.
“We’ll take him for a ride, boss,” Salvatore said, then clocked the guy on the back of the head with the butt of his gun.
I sat there for a moment longer as Salvatore heaved an unconscious Gino over his shoulder and carried him out of the room. I slipped a thick envelope out of my jacket and laid it down on the walnut desk.
