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“What the fuck do you want?” I spat.
Captain Russo. NYPD superstar.
His presence commanded attention as he brandished his gun immediately and aimed it directly at me. The atmosphere grew tense, and Dimitri and I locked eyes, silently communicating our readiness for whatever was to come. I glanced at Enzo, too. He nodded.
But before the captain could utter a word, he let out a hearty laugh, the sound reverberating through the room. Confusion washed over us, and I couldn't help but exchange a perplexed glance with my brother and Enzo. The captain's sudden change in demeanor was baffling, to say the least.
As the laughter died down, the bastard holstered his gun and took a step forward, his eyes glinting with mischief and authority.
"Well, well, well, what do we have here?” he asked, his voice laced with feigned surprise.
“The Flask back to its old tricks, huh, Tony?” he laughed, looking behind the bar.
“We’re payin’ customers tonight, Captain,” I slurred.
He shook his head amusedly. “We both know that’s not the truth, but that’s not why I’m here.”
Enzo arched an eyebrow, a hint of skepticism etched on his face. “Well,” he said. “Then to what do we owe this unexpected visit?”
The captain grinned, relishing in the dramatics of the moment.
He loved doing this shit.
He loved somehow having an upper hand, even though he was on my payroll.
I crossed my arms, my expression stoic. “Spit it out.”
The captain chuckled, taking a stroll around the bar as he surveyed our surroundings quite nosily.
His head craned to and fro before he rounded back to look at me.
Good luck, asshole.
We didn’t have shit here.
"I've been hearing some interesting things about your operations since your club shootout, Luca. Rumors of deals. Certain alliances that might or might not be formed,” he said, his tone filled with curiosity and a veiled threat.
Enzo smirked, unfazed by the captain's insinuations. "Ah. Rumors, Captain. You know how they spread like wildfire in this city.”
I, on the other hand, studied his expression.
He seemed even more wormy than usual, and that was saying something.
The captain raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glimmer in his eyes. "I'm well aware. But you know as well as I do that rumors usually come from a grain of truth,” he said cryptically, his gaze shifting from Enzo to me and then to Dimitri and back to me.
He dug into his suit’s breast pocket and pulled out a cigar. He exuded an air of arrogance that seemed to suffocate the room. Without a hint of finesse, he crudely clipped the end of the cigar, bits of tobacco scattering carelessly onto the floor.
I couldn't help but feel a surge of suspicion as he walked closer to me, rolling the Colombian between his fingers.
I could tell by the way he was walking around like he owned the show, that he had a reason to be there.
His words held an underlying meaning.
A warning.
I had always known we couldn’t trust anyone — especially him — completely.
But now I wondered what else he was getting at.
