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I punched him in the throat. He didn’t go down, just stumbling against the back wall and clutching at his throat, trying to breathe. I punched him again, this time in the stomach, and it took the little breath he had left. He gasped and choked, coughing in air as best he could. “You’ll have all of it in twenty-four hours, or I’ll be back,” I warned. Gregori was lucky I hadn’t brought any of my tools. Enzo always told me if that much was necessary, but for now, he’d just said a warning. I warned with my fists.
I waited for him to get his breath back and when he finally wheezed in a big breath, he spoke in a hoarse, choked whisper. “I’ll get that out of the safe for you.”
I opened the small office door and backed out of it, and Gregori calmly walked past me into the kitchen. “Where’s the safe?” I asked, and that was when Gregori made a run for it. He slipped and slid on the kitchen floor and the rest of the staff just stared at us, wide-eyed. I got him by the back of the collar, pulling him down so that his spine cracked on the floor, and I put my boot on his throat, pushing down hard but not hard enough to crush his windpipe.
A warning, I reminded myself as adrenaline and anger heated my blood.Just a warning, Rocco.I could get a little too into my work, although I usually remained calm; but during a fight, everything seemed to hit me at once, and there had been times I’d blacked out. But that was when I was green, just a kid, and now I had a lot more control. I loved the feeling of adrenaline spiking through my veins, the way it pushed out any thoughts of Allegra or what I had to do. “You don’t run from me,” I said calmly, looking down into his red face, his bulging eyes as he clawed at my foot. I ignored him even as his nails dug into my ankle.
He screamed, a thin, reedy sound since my boot was constricting his vocal cords. I let my boot off just slightly and he hitched in a breath that must have hurt his throat. “I’m sorry,” he rasped. “Sorry, sorry. I don’t have any money.”
“I’ll take what’s in the till,” I said, and when he started to complain I put my boot on his throat again. “You know that I could crush your windpipe, right?” I asked conversationally, and Gregori’s eyes widened and bulged as I pressed down on his throat with my boot.
“Take it,” he gasped. “Take all the money in the till.”
“And you’ll have the rest tomorrow?” I asked.
“A week,” he pleaded. “Give me a week.”
I thought about it, looking down at him coolly. I could crush his windpipe, have his son call the ambulance, but then he’d be in the hospital where no one could get to him if he didn’t pay. “Three days,” I negotiated, and pressed down a little harder, making him choke, before moving my foot from his throat. He nodded eagerly, holding his throat, and the rest of the staff just stared at me as I walked outside, back to my car. It felt good to do some work, especially something that didn’t involve Allegra Rossi. On the way back home, I whistled a tune.
7
ALLEGRA
I had to tell my father again that I was unable to get any information out of Ricardo, and it was beginning to irritate me. It was all Rocco’s fault, after all, for blocking me. I’d been panicky when he’d been at the house the night before, afraid that Matteo would come downstairs. I didn’t want Rocco so much as getting a glimpse of my son, afraid he would recognize that Matteo had his eyes, his chin. I never wanted him to know that Matteo was his son. I never wanted Matteo in the lifestyle I lived, and Rocco was a huge part of that.
My father didn’t seem concerned about me failing my mission (again), so I was just rattling around the house, trying to think of how to get to Ricardo and find out who had knocked over our laundromat. I spent the day with Matteo, helping him with his puzzles and putting him to bed. It was nice, just being a mother sometimes, but I also felt restless. I felt like I’d been failing my father, and I wanted to make it up to him.
My phone buzzed in the back pocket of my jeans, and when I pulled it out to look at it, I groaned. Martina. “Hello?” I said.
I could hear the club background music. “Allegra!” she exclaimed, a slight edge of a slur to her voice. “You’ve got to come out to this new club downtown. Everyone’s here.”
“Everyone?” I asked, intrigued. If Ricardo was there, maybe I could try my mission again, maybe not fail this time.
“All the bigwigs,” she assured me. “We’re going to an afterparty after the club closes. You should come by!”
I usually wasn’t one to party hard, but ever since Martina and I had gone out the other day, she’d been on me to go out again. I headed upstairs to find an outfit that might impress Ricardo. “I’ll be there in half an hour,” I told her.
I settled on a flouncy skirt and a low-cut blouse, hoping the cleavage would loosen Ricardo’s tongue. “I’m going out,” I said to Alice as I walked past Matteo’s room.
Alice raised an eyebrow. “Have fun,” she said, smiling a little. I didn’t get out much, so Alice was always supportive when I did. Everyone was, really. I was lucky to have such a close-knit family and staff.
I didn’t tell my father I was going because I didn’t want Alberto to accompany me, so I just snuck out the back door and got into my car, heading to the club downtown. My father didn’t usually let me go out of the house alone, especially when someone was knocking over our businesses. But I’d probably already have Rocco there to stop me from finishing my mission, and I didn’t need Alberto or any of his other men making things worse.
When I arrived at the bar, I took advantage of the valet parking and walked inside, looking for anyone I knew. Luckily, Martina walked up to me immediately, slipping her arm around my waist and handing me a drink that smelled vaguely like gasoline. I wrinkled my nose. “What’sinthis?” I asked.
She shrugged. “Who knows? The bartender has been making them for me all night,” she giggled, clearly drunk and swaying on her heels.
“Looks like you need to switch to water,” I said gently and she agreed, walking with me to a nearby table. I sipped the drink she gave me and made a face.
“Oscar isn’t here,” she pouted, referring to her ex-boyfriend.
I sighed. “You don't want him to be here,” I reminded her.
“Maybe I do, a little,” she admitted. Looking at Martina, I thought that maybe the afterparty was going to be me holding her hair in the bathroom while she threw up, and I was feeling my chances of completing my mission dwindle away.
I looked around, seeing a bevy of wiseguys and their relatives around. No one our father’s age, but a bunch of the youngercaposand their muscle were all around, drinking and dancing. I didn’t see Ricardo, but I did see Rocco, standing over by the bar and giving me a cool look. “Great,” I mumbled, but Martina wasn’t listening, looking at her phone.
“Oscar’s going to pick me up,” she said, standing and stumbling toward the door, and I sighed. I was used to Martina ditching me, and at least she’d have someone to take care of her. She and Oscar were on the outs right now, but they always came back together.
