Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 45371 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45371 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
“Is that a threat?” he snaps, sounding like a temperamental little child.
“I’m not just talking about your life,” I reply. “You’ve gone AWOL from the mob. You’ve kidnapped a civilian without permission. Your position has never been secure, and now you’ve screwed yourself. Massimo will hear about this. What do you think he’ll do to the men who joined you on this little mission?”
Enzo shifts from foot to foot, trying to hide his fear. His men do a terrible job of hiding theirs. They exchange glances. Reading people has always been part of my job. They already regret joining this idiot, and now I’ve confirmed that feeling.
“Do you have the money or not?” Enzo snaps.
“I’ve got the cash. When Cameron’s safe, it’s yours. Let him go.”
“Nah-uh-uh.” Enzo shakes his head slowly. “You’re forgetting something. His daughter is going to get her big ass out here and pay the fee herself.”
I bite down when he says big ass. He’s got a mocking tone, as if her size is anything but perfect and a bad thing. The idea is laughable.
“Why?” I growl. “Will that make you feel like a tough guy?”
“It’s the deal,” he says, “and it’s a small price for what you did.”
“I took out the trash.”
“You killed my father.”
“After he assaulted and murdered an innocent woman just because she had a boyfriend. After the war, the mob realized I was right. Ask any Italian these days, and he’ll tell you he’d do the same thing. You need to let it go.”
Enzo turns quickly, staring at the closest Italian, a broad man with a sizeable belly and a gold watch on his wrist.
“What do you think? Did he do the right thing?”
The man hesitates, looking at me and then at Enzo.
“You can still get out of this,” I say. “If you stop this now and give me Cameron, I’ll tell Massimo you all cooperated. Enzo forced you to go AWOL. You wanted no part of it. You can get out with your jobs intact. You made a mistake following this asshole. Don’t make another.”
The man sighs. “He’s right, Enzo. I’m sorry, but this is madness. Make some money, you said. Easy cash. Now we’ve got the Kilts ready to take us out.”
Maybe this can end without blood.
“Are you kidding me?” Enzo yells, then spins to the man on his other side, tall and lean with slicked-back hair. “What about you? Did he do the right thing, killing my father?”
“Did he really kill a woman? An innocent woman? Not even for a hit or nothing? Just because?”
Enzo turns to me slowly, much of the fight draining from his face. “The g-girl.”
“No,” I snarl. “This is over. Malcolm, go get Cameron. Men, if they try to stop him, start shooting.”
Malcolm walks past Enzo. The air tinges with possible violence. We’ve all got our hands next to our guns, ready to fire if it comes to it.
Then Malcolm has his hand on Cameron’s arm. He leads him past me toward the car. Cameron and I share a look. It’s something I haven’t seen from him in years, something I never thought I’d see again. Gratitude.
“You’ve all got a choice ahead of you,” I say, looking over at the Italians and ignoring Enzo. He bristles as if he’s going to protest and throw a tantrum, but he doesn’t interrupt me.
“You can stay with Enzo and sign away your lives. Massimo will exile you all, at the very least. Or maybe he’ll be in a bad mood…”
I don’t have to explain what would happen if their employer was angrier than expected if they stay with Enzo. The Italians didn’t go the same route as the Kilts—helping to fix the city, providing funding for charities, and doing things to improve instead of destroy.
“Or you can leave now, return to the city, and I’ll speak to Massimo on your behalf. I’ll tell him you surrendered the hostage without violence.”
The men exchange more looks, their resolves faltering. This is something else I’ve trained myself to do. Read men when their courage begins to wane or when their stupidity begins to win out.
Finally, they walk toward the car, one by one, and then all together. Enzo watches them, his mouth falling open, his golden tooth winking at me again. “You can’t just… are you… you can’t…”
“They can. They are.”
I walk across the parking lot to Enzo. The closer I get, the stranger it feels looking at somebody slightly taller than I am. He squares his shoulders.
“So, this is it,” he grunts. “A few fancy words from you, and they go running.”
“It’s common sense,” I say. “It’s the thing a reasonable man does when he realizes he’s bet on a losing horse. That’s you, Enzo, but we can leave it here. No more attacks, no more games, and you walk away. Leave the city before Massimo finds you. He’ll only exile you, anyway. You’re causing problems none of us need.”