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I can only assume he’s trying to rack his brain for something, anything, that’ll save his ass.
“Actually,” I say, deciding it’s about time. “Let me call her real quick.”
I dial Betsy’s phone number—a number I got quite easily, actually—and she picks up on the third ring.
“Please, don’t. She doesn’t know,” Roy starts, but it’s too late.
He should’ve given me what I wanted when I asked for it.
“Betsy! This is Roy’s friend Nicco.” I pause as she rambles on about not knowing a Nicco. “Yeah, yeah, I’m actually with him right now. Hey, Bets, I want you to look out your front window and let me know if you see a black vehicle parked across the street.” I pause. “Ah, yeah, you do? Good.”
I end the call.
“The person in that car will walk into your home and put a bullet between your wife’s eyes if you don’t give me what I want and give it to me now,” I tell him.
It’s unfortunate for Betsy, but it’s true.
I don’t like hurting women. It’s whyInever do it, and it’s up to the hitmen.
But in this case, she’s simply made an error in judgement by marrying the fool in front of me.
Roy starts to stutter as he tries spitting out too many words at once. “A-all right, yes. I did, yes. I hired someone. But I was only the middleman for the people who really wanted her, you, you s-see?”
It amazes me how quick men are to weaken when it comes to holding themselves accountable. He’d never make it in this life.
“I’m getting fucking impatient,” Dom growls from the corner, and the cock of his gun follows suit.
“Maybe you guys shouldn’t be so damn sure your people aren’t dealing with me,” Roy says, and I narrow my gaze at this fucking idiot.
Sitting back in my chair, I clap my hands together a few times, nice and slow.
“Roy’s grown some goddamn balls, everybody!” I shout to the room. “Who the fuck woulda thought?”
I stand and walk around the desk, grab a letter opener that’s lying by his keyboard, and jam it into his ball sack. I’ve got pretty fucking good aim.
“Fuuuuuuck!” he hisses from behind clenched teeth, and I step back with both hands on my hips, examining my work.
It barely even made a rip in the fuck’s pants, but damn did it go in through his skin. Felt it penetrate real deep in there.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” he screams, and someone starts to pound on the door.
Dom heads over to it and pulls in a security guard who’s clearly got no idea what tree he’s barking up. After relocking the door, Dom maneuvers his arms in such a way that I know what’s coming next. He snaps the guard’s neck and watches as his body thumps down against the floor.
“Hate kills like that. I really enjoy a lot of guts and gore,” Dom says, looking at where I stand next to Roy. “Think we could satisfy my need on good ol’ Roy here?”
“Stefano Mancini!” Roy gets out just as he starts to go into shock.
His face pales even more, and his breaths become rapid, as if he’s just run up a few flights of stairs.
I don’t have time to concentrate on Roy, though, because the name that just came out of his mouth causes my own fucking shock to set in.
Stefano Mancini.
Roy was hired by Stefano.
“What the fuck does he want with Evelina?” I ask, still trying to register that our underboss is fucking around with something we have no idea about. “Tell me, you fucking piece of shit!” I yell as I yank him up by his button-down dress shirt.
“Up to something,” he manages to get out as beads of sweat roll down his temples. “Got an offshore account. Bidding on women every few weeks from the auction, the real pretty ones, and he’s got an account he’s using to bid on the children’s black market too. Babies.”
