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“Come on, Angie. Let’s get you back out to the dressing rooms and get you a drink,” he murmurs to her before gripping her elbow and marching her swaying body to the back door to the private office spaces.
I grab the glass of whiskey that Carter ordered us and down it all, washing the anger away, not quite believing that she thinks she is in any state to look after an 8-year-old boy. I don’t even know where she is living at the moment, no doubt couch surfing. I don’t like the idea of the mother of my child not having a home, but after trying to set her up in an apartment, I realized that she was selling all the furnishings for money to shoot up her arms and constantly trashing the place until it was unlivable. No, Leo most certainly cannot go anywhere near his mother.
“I think we need to just wait and watch. They will come,” Carter says, as he leans against the bar and orders us another drink.
“Something doesn’t feel right. Something feels off,” I grumble to him, my eyes piercing every patron. A few who can't handle the heat in my gaze, simply stand and walk out. It makes it easier for me to see where my team is positioned undercover and which ones are truly there for entertainment.
We sit and watch for another ten minutes, and I begin to wonder if I need to go out the back. Perhaps Federico will be down there? I have a team at the rear entrance, so he can’t have escaped through the back door, and by now I am sure his security team would have told him I am here.
“Over there.” Carter nods over to a small booth table in the far corner of the room. It is dark, but I can clearly see Federico sitting, surrounded by his men, who are all looking at me. Looking like a king presiding over his kingdom. His casual demeanor does nothing to settle my nerves. I feel like he is the bait, and I glance quickly around the room for anything that may be amiss.
Seeing nothing out of place, I bring my attention back to him, as he relaxes into the corner booth like he’s on a holiday, his arms up behind his head and a smirk on his face. Suddenly, his face changes, though. He bites his bottom lip and his hands come down between his legs, which are covered by the table. His eyes leave mine for a moment as they focus on the ground in front of him before his body slumps back again, his hands against the top of the booth seats. And that’s when he gives me a big, shit-eating grin.
I have no idea what the fuck he is doing until I see my ex-wife get out from under the table, wiping her mouth, and he squeezes her breast before she stumbles away. If that had happened a month or more ago, I would be livid, but now, with a new woman on my mind, I feel nothing but sadness for Angelina. Federico is so blind to think that my drug-addicted ex-wife sucking his dick would rile me up to the point I would start something.
I won’t be starting this fight. But I will be ending it.
I push off the bar and walk over, Carter right beside me. We both stop in front of the booth, peering down at the men that surround him. They are young, inexperienced, and from the looks on their faces as I gaze at them with murder on my mind, their confidence is waning.
“Federico, where have you been, my dear friend? I have been looking for your skinny ass for weeks!” A chill takes hold of my tone, and I see one of his men fumble under the table. I know he was reaching for his gun. Fucking imbeciles.
“I have been enjoying the excellent skills your wife can offer me, my friend. And enjoying the opulence that I now live in thanks to your money.” He’s trying to goad me, but I still can’t see how he is going to win this. It is then I realize that he has nothing. Nothing but his pure arrogance and false sense of power. He baited us here tonight to kill us with this measly team of adolescents.
It would be almost laughable if I wasn’t out for his blood.
“Well, I am glad you can enjoy her, I certainly no longer do. She is all yours, my friend... at least for the next few hours, as you will be dead before morning breaks.” His nostrils flair and his jaw clenches, the thought of him not winning this war dawning on him as he becomes visibly uneasy.
“It is the two of you against the eight of us. Simple math tells me that you are on the losing side, Dante, not me,” he retorts with another shit-eating grin, and I still can’t believe how stupid this guy is.
I say nothing back to him and tilt my head in curiosity. He stands then and leans toward me to whisper, “But I will be the one to take your life.” There’s a flash of silver as a knife appears. I lean away from him just in time and it slices the top of my shoulder.
“You worthless piece of shit. You can’t even kill me from a few inches away!” I mock, laughing before nodding to the booths on either side of Federico’s. My men stand up, guns already pulled and pointed at the back of everyone's head.
“Fuck,” Federico mutters.
“16 to eight Federico. Simple math would say you are outnumbered,” I grit out to him, the pain in my shoulder now burning, but my anger at him cannot be deterred.
“Do it,” I say to my team, and one by one, each man is taken out of the club. His men are guided out the back, where they get a swift and painless end to their mafia life. Two of my soldiers, along with Carter and I, take Federico with us, back to the compound. Because I need some answers.
An hour later, with my shirt soaked in blood and Federico chained by his hands to the ceiling, Carter and I stand before him, demanding information. His skinny frame dangles, his feet unable to touch the floor, and he knows his time is up. There is no way out of this for him.
“Where is our money, Federico?” I ask him again, for the second time tonight.
“I’m not telling you shit,” he spits out, and Carter punches him across the jaw. Federico’s head flies back and blood pours from his nose. I have never been punched by Carter, and I have no plans to be, because he is an exceptionally strong man, a fighter who knows exactly where and how to hit a person to inflict the most amount of pain.
“Where is your brother?” I ask him, my patience wearing thin. He has no plans to tell us anything. Even now, in his final moments. While I would love to drag this out all night, I know Little Red is upstairs in my bed and I want to see her.
He laughs. “Oh, Dante, you still don’t know do you. After all these years, you know my brother was fucking your wife from the moment you married her, right?” He takes joy in telling me this, and I stiffen for a moment because I had no fucking idea that happened. I didn’t think it started until after Leo was born. I stand then, walking closer to him.
“That’s right. They have been fucking for years and she has been spilling all your secrets. Until you kicked her out, at least. Hell, Leo may not even be your son!” He cackles. I seethe as I look at him, Leo is most certainly my son, there is no question to his heritage.
In that moment I see red.
I grab the nearby steel rod and slam it across his torso. He gasps for breath, but I don’t wait, doing it over and over and over again until I hear his ribs break. I move places, then and I do the same to the other side. He is barely breathing by the end of it, but I don’t want to kill him yet.
“Where is your fucking brother.?” I seethe. He is barely conscious, with no air in his lungs, so he certainly can’t talk.
“Where is our fucking money!” I’m sick of his fucking antics and ready to take the life from his body.
