AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I spat out more blood and looked up. A padlock? Really? That was the best they could do? Thankful for many reasons that they hadn’t taken my father’s watch—another rookie mistake—I managed to flick the tiny pin and drew out the small wire I wouldneed. Papà had always been prepared. You never knew. He taught me too many people relied on guns. I’d unlocked it and had just taken a step when the hatch opened. Two men walked in. Well, one man and one teenager dressed in black shorts and a white tank top, who I recognized as the one serving drinks earlier. The man snarled and raised his gun. The boy? Simply launched himself at the man’s back. It was so surprising, the guy stumbled, and it was the only opening I needed. I was on him in a flash, the chains still in my hands and wrapped around his neck in seconds. He never got a chance to fire the gun. He never got a chance to take a second breath.
I released his body and dragged him out of the way behind a bulkhead. The boy stood, trembling. I owed him.
“I’m getting out of here. Want to come?” Not that he had a choice.
He nodded immediately and I picked up the Glock. “Stay behind me.” I didn’t wait to see if he followed me because from the room next door, I heard the engines jump to life. Shit, we were rolling.
I raced back to the salon and pulled the boy to me. “Will they stop you going in there?”
He shook his head miserably. “I spilled a drink.” I took that to mean he was going to be punished.
“Do you remember the man I came in with?” He nodded. “Good, go up to him and ask if he wants an orange juice.” It was their code. Lucio—much as he hated to admit it—had a citrus allergy, of all things. It would mean Lucio knew the shit was about to hit the fan and would cause a distraction.
I slipped into the shadows, but if anyone walked past, they would see me immediately. I could just see the salon from where I was and watched the boy go up to Lucio. The same girl was still trying to get him to respond to her advances. I didn’t hear whatthe boy said, but Lucio’s head came up and he nodded carefully, so I knew he understood. Ten seconds later it began.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Lucio yelled and stood up, snarling at the woman. He looked over at Maxine. “Don’t you train them any better than this, for fuck’s sake? I can get this sort of talent on any street corner,” he carried on, giving an excellent impression of a pretentious asshole. Catching on, one by one, my men all stood and said the same. As if orchestrated, the same moment I took the gun from the man who had his back to me, blocking the exit, Lucio, George, Riccardo, and Marcus all reacted. In ten seconds, Maxine had a serious problem. In another twenty seconds all the guards were dead. I had taken great pleasure in knocking Maxine out and tying her up, as I intended to take her with me.
The detective wouldn’t find anything tonight except an empty boat. It had gone too far to risk witnesses. I had originally intended to leave child and family services to mop up the kids, but we would take them to a safe house instead.
“Rocco’s here,” I spat out as explanation for my split lip, checking the clip of the second gun I’d helped myself to. I glanced at the room and the other customers, who sickened me. But now wasn’t the time, unfortunately. “I’m heading back to the dock. You will have a few minutes to get away before the cops arrive. I’m not interested in any of you.” I was lying, but I needed them agreeable, and I knew not one single person would rat me out because none of them could afford to compromise themselves. I eyed the senator I’d recognized immediately, and he reddened and looked at the floor. I got a few nods, then put George and Marcus on the door and Lucio, myself, and Riccardo headed for the engine room.
“We still have five boat crew and the other guards to deal with,” Riccardo pointed out.
“As soon as Rocco knows the boat has turned around, he’ll either go to the salon or next to the engine room where they had me.”
“Boss,” Riccardo said. “I know boats. I can go into the engine room and lock myself in until we dock.”
“The phone jammer’s working,” Lucio commented.
“Go,” I said to Riccardo. “Make a judgement call. If they deserve a bullet, handle it. If not make sure they know where to come tomorrow to get another job in return for silence.” All the ones who had participated in the stuff done to the kids would die, but there were options for the others. I turned to Lucio. “Shall we go visit my uncle?”
We heard him before we entered the room. The one guard outside, so incompetent he was too busy trying to decide if Lucio was a threat or just a drunk guest as he staggered against the wall to hear me come up behind him and slit his throat.
“I want O’Brien called,” Rocco spat. “I demand a meeting.”
“The jammer has to stay on until we get back,” another, milder voice said.
Rocco swore, but the engines eased and then the boat started turning. “What the fuck?” Rocco screeched and taking that as an invitation, Lucio and I burst inside. None of the three stood a chance. I shot Rocco in both kneecaps, and he was too busy screaming to take any notice of the bullets Lucio put between the eyes of the other two.
“I want him,” I said, and Lucio nodded. “Check for cameras,” I ordered unnecessarily because Lucio was thorough, and I jogged back to the salon. The tech billionaire was slumped on the floor, blood pooling under him. Marcus had his hand pressed to a gunshot wound on his shoulder, but the other hand remained steady on his gun.
“He had a weapon,” Marcus offered casually.
By the time we were back at the dock, Lucio had arranged for our men to roll up in a private ambulance and use the excuse of a guest having a heart attack. The “ambulance” took Rocco and Maxine to the warehouse where they would be kept on ice until I came to question them. The “guests” were allowed to leave. My men made sure the dock was empty and Gia would make sure the cameras were wiped. Two of my capos arrived in minivans and loaded the women and kids on board, and I stalked toward Lucio’s car only to hear someone shout “Boss” and the young teen that had helped me rushed over.
“I work hard,” he insisted, the faint sound of a South American accent more obvious than before.
“Don’t you want to go back to your family?”
He shook his head. “No family.”
“How old are you?”
“Eighteen.” He said it like a question, but I knew he was lying. I also could imagine his future. I glanced at Lucio and he met my gaze, a trace of humor in it.
“Riccardo?” Riccardo looked up. “What’s your name?” I asked the boy.
“Paolo,” he whispered.
