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“Callum, this is—”
“Tip her, or I shoot you. Your choice.”
Flavio nods, lips in a tight line while pulling out a wad of cash. He tosses a hundred-dollar bill at the floor by her feet. “Here.”
“All of it, and if you toss it, I’ll make you pick it up with your teeth. She’s not a dog.”
“It’s okay, sir,” the woman says, looking toward Gaspar with that forced grin back in place. “He doesn’t owe me anything.”
Ignoring her, I tilt my head to the side with the barrel of my gun pointing at the same man I’ve already shot twice. His second-in-command is bleeding, gritting his teeth as the pain begins to settle and his body shakes. “All. Of. It.” Flavio heeds my warning as Casper grabs two chairs from a nearby table and brings them over. One for me. One for him. The large stack of bills is exchanged under my watch and then Kray takes her away, walking her to the back to collect her things and then out the front door. “Now sit.”
Cautiously, one of the men with him rights the table and then steps back.
“Callum, what’s the meaning of this?” Flavio asks, his anger and embarrassment is palpable. He feels disrespected in front of his men, something that no boss can ever allow. Once you show weakness, no one will follow you. “You’re in my territory and I can—”
“Can what, mate? What the fuck can you do?” I take my seat casually, and Casper does the same. He’s quiet, while I enjoy watching the maggot not worth a shit try and keep his composure.
It won’t work. Gaspar will make a mistake.
His men will pay the price.
He takes in a deep breath and sits across from us, hands atop the old table. “Why are you here?”
“Because you seem to need a reminder on how this business works. On how to stay in your lane.” Someone scoffs as Kray reenters the room and walks toward me, the woman now gone. My guard hears it, head snapping to the side with a gun against the man’s temple before the already injured git could react. “What’s your deal with Rubens?”
Flavio swallows hard, throat bobbing harshly, but recovers quickly, expression neutral, while those around him are anything but. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Are you sure you want to take that route, lad? My patience is bloody thin as it is.”
“I haven’t done anything to warrant this level of disrespect, Jameson. You’re in my home, my country, and…son of a bitch!” he yells out, hand gripping his ear where my bullet took out a small chunk. Blood seeps through his fingers, the left side of his clothing now ruined.
“Watch it, Flavio. I’d hate to think you truly meant that insult.” One of his men twitches, his hand moving toward his belt, but before he can take his next intake of air, Casper’s gun remedies his idiocy. He’s not dead, but a bullet to the abdomen can do a lot of damage and if not treated immediately, it’d become irreparable. “And you wouldn’t be stupid enough to do so. Would you?”
“No.” Voice low, he looks at the men beside him. Not one of them is fit for the job, in my opinion, but I’m almost embarrassed for him. I’d feel bad had he not been stupid enough to be intertwined with Rubens’s and Aliana’s safety.
People like him have no word. No code.
He’s an animal that needs to come to heel or be put down for his insubordination.
“Last time we met, Flavio, do you remember what I said to you before walking out the door?”
“That you’d kill my—”
“Louder,” I hiss out, my own weapon on the table. My finger is on the trigger as it lays on its side, its muzzle pointing at his heart. “What did I tell you before walking out?”
“That you’d kill my men and then force me to eat them before ending my pathetic life.”
“And yet you try to gain territory when we’ve been generous.” My eyes scan the room, finding product on nearly every table. A waste. The color is also off; it’s cheap and cut wrong. Shaking my head, I level him with a hard look. “You try to befriend a politician to what end? What is he offering?”
“Nothing. It’s a monetary—”
“The truth, arsehole.”
“A truce.”
“A truce?” I ask while Casper scoffs beside me. “Fuck do you have to gain from that?”
“Immunity.” Flavio’s explanation sounds plausible, and any other day I’d give him the benefit of the doubt, but Giannis wouldn’t be so afraid if it were that simple. The way his hands shake is also telling. Wanker is scared. “We’d be left to do business without harassment or possible jail time in the future if caught mid-transaction. Just that. Nothing else.”
