AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I stroke the ring on my finger as Jimmy comes back over to me. “Your cab’s waiting outside,” he says, pointing toward the door.
“Another drink,” I tell him, sliding my last ten-dollar bill his way. “Whatever’s the strongest I can get for that money.”
He shakes his head. “Marco told me not to serve you anymore. You should get in the cab.”
“He might be the boss of you, but he’s not the boss of me.”
He lowers his voice, leaning toward me. “Haven’t you heard of Marco Donatello?”
“Should I have?”
“The name Donatello means nothing to you?”
I shake my head.
“The Johnston Street massacre? The Kelly Factory fire?”
“Nope.”
“Wow. Where have you been living, under a rock? Marco Donatello is the boss of the most violent crime family in Chicago. Trust me, you do not want to cross him. Ever. If he says get the cab, get the cab.”
I manage a laugh. “Nice try.”
“I’m serious.”
A shadow falls across me. I look to my left. Marco’s back and he looks furious, his eyes blazing as he stares down at me. “I thought I told you to leave,” he growls.
“I guess I didn’t listen. You want to tell your bartender friend here to get me a drink like I asked him?”
Marco takes one look at me. “You’re a stubborn son of a bitch,” he says, a hint of a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. Without another word, he scoops my suitcase up with one hand and then picks me up with the other. I shriek, but he’s already carrying me out of the bar past the silently staring crowd. No one tries to help me, despite my pleas.
The door swings shut behind us. We’re alone on the street. Just me and Marco.
That’s when all hell breaks loose.
Four
Marco
* * *
What I should do is get ready for the most important meeting of my entire career. What I am doing is carrying a squirming, yelling woman toward the open door of the back of the cab.
“Put me down!” she shrieks at the top of her voice, clawing at the back of my neck with sharp fingernails, drawing blood.
I set her on her feet. “Shut up,” I tell her in my coldest voice. She’s no idea what I did to the last person who drew blood from me. It was a closest casket funeral. Let’s put it that way.
“You can’t talk to me like that,” she says, swaying on the spot. Despite my anger, I find myself impressed. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who didn’t cower in fear when they faced me. She seems utterly fearless. Which is really dumb. She has no idea who I am. How much blood is on my hands.
It’s probably for the best. She’d run off screaming if she knew and I don’t want her to run. I want to keep her right by my side. Ideally naked and moaning.
Any other day, I would fuck her. Not today.
The street’s empty except for the cab. This part of the city, this time of day, it’s always busy. Alarms start ringing in my head as I realize what this means.
“Get in the cab,” I tell her as a car screeches around the corner in the distance, the window winding down as it comes barreling toward me.
They’ve set me up. I’ve got seconds to work out what to do next.
