AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Sal's men began to move, but Toro moved faster. With a sudden movement, he lunged forward, gripping one of them by the throat and pressing him against the wall. The man gasped for breath, his eyes bulging with terror as Toro's wild eyes bore into his soul.
The others rushed him with shouts and yells, ready to defend their compatriot. Marco ignored him. He kicked Sal to the ground, and then put his shoe neatly on his throat.
"You see, Sal," Marco said over the sound of the five-on-one brawl, pressing down. "The boss doesn't take kindly to rats who steal from him."
Sal wheezed for mercy, clawing at Marco's shoe.
Driven by loyalty, one of his men tore himself away from Toro to swing at Marco. Without moving his foot, Marco ducked, and swung back. His fist connected with the man's jaw, and he tumbled back— right into the path of Toro.
"Sorry, man." Toro spat blood, his nose bleeding, but he was grinning. "That one got away from me."
"You're losing your touch, old man. Toscano's going to have to put you in a retirement home."
"Fuck you and your momma, King."
"You wish."
This violence, this brutality… It was business. Marco was used to it—and more, he wasgoodat it. Every time he defended the Toscano territory, he got the satisfaction that some men got from slipping a sports car into gear, or from sex. Their empire was a well-oiled machine, and he was the mechanic who kept it running and then took it out to hear it purr.
But amidst the darkness that surrounded them, a strange flicker of disappointment burned within Marco's chest. Once upon a time, this had been thrilling.
Now it was just another day at work.
Eventually, Sal had learned his lesson, and his men were lying in groaning heaps. His gaze met Toro's, a silent understanding passing between them. Marco screwed up the counterfeit bill, and dropped it on Sal's face.
"We're done," he declared, his voice cutting through the air like a blade. He stepped off of Sal's throat, and Sal crumpled, gasping for air. Marco leaned down. "You have two days to pay the full amount—and no arts and crafts this time. If you don't…"
Marco surveyed the mess that Toro had made. In the wake of the confrontation, the scent of cigar smoke and fear lingered, a reminder of the power that Marco wielded and the consequences that awaited those who dared to defy him.
"This will just be the beginning."
With a final, piercing glance at the wheezing figure of Sal, Marco turned and strode out of the restaurant, Toro close behind.
"That was fun," Toro grinned, shaking out his shoulders. The two of them walked down the street, Toro ignoring the way that bystanders openly gawped at the blood on his suit. "What's next?"
"That was a mess, T. Who brought those clowns on board?"
"One of the guys from shipping. He's been angling at getting good-boy points from Toscano."
"Run this kind of thing through Dom next time. He's good at sniffing out rats."
"That tight bastard? He'll charge for it. I'm not dealing with that."
They got into Marco's waiting car, Marco slipping into the driver's seat. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "Let's see. We've got that rat bastard at the docks to have a little talk with…"
Toro cracked his knuckles. "I love talking to people. I'm a regular conversationalist."
"Keep your fuckin' blood off of my leather," Marco snapped.
"Fussy, fussy."
"And after that we've got the security brief with Bear. The Petrovs have been acting like they're up to something, the bastards. And after that is the check-in with the downtown strip…"
"What about that pussy pit of yours? Any heads need cracking?"
Marco paused. "Tony's old club? Nah, it's running smooth."
The only person there who needs their head cracked is me.
