Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 74276 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74276 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
“No kidding.”
“He’s a good, loyal—”
I pushed his wrist just a tiny bit more.
He moaned in pain.
“Don’t be annoying,” I said.
“Fine,” he gasped.
I released the pressure. He breathed hard, big gasping grunts.
“He tried,” Roberto said. “Talked to the Don a few times. But the Don thinks that this new family’s going to be a big threat. He knows they’re from New York, and his son even says they’re hot shit up there. The Don thinks we need to hit and hit hard, which is why the girl’s head was on the block.”
“I can understand that,” I said. “But the Don’s wrong. Drago’s in town, but he’s not a real threat. He’s old, out of touch, and weaker than you realize.”
“Don still wants him gone.”
“Here’s the thing. That’s not going to happen. And I don’t want a mafia war to break out.”
“Why the fuck do you care so much?” He struggled a bit and turned his head. One beady little brown eye stared up at me as he grinned against the wood grain floor. “Got the hots for the girl?”
I pushed. He gasped in pain as his shoulder popped out of the socket.
“Lucky bastard,” I said. “I was trying to break your wrist.”
He moaned as I jammed a knee into his lower back.
“Fuck you,” he said.
“Look, Roberto, baby. I got some news recently that makes this all very personal, so you gotta work with me, okay?” I relaxed my grip on him, but his arm didn’t move. I could probably fix it, but not just yet.
“We don’t owe you shit, you motherfucker.”
“Come on, don’t be like that. You baited me into hurting you and you know it.”
“Fuck you, Tanner.”
“Fair enough. But hear me out. If you don’t sit down and talk with Drago Borghi, I’m going to come back here and break your wrist. If that doesn’t get you to the table, I’m going to come back and kill you. Then I’ll find the Don himself, dislocate his shoulder, and give him this same speech. Eventually I’ll have to kill every single one of you motherfuckers, but I’ll do it, and you know I will.”
He breathed hard like a pig on the way to slaughter. I stood up and kicked at his side. He rolled over onto his back, his arm flopping to the side. Sweat poured down his square, pale face, his bald head shining.
“Tell me you understand,” I said.
“I’m ready to die for the Don,” he said.
“I know. But you dying won’t help him at all. So tell me you understand and you’re going to go talk to him. You’re going to convince him that sitting down with Drago’s the right thing to do for everyone. You’re going to do that because you want to keep living, and because you want your Don to keep living.”
Roberto stared hard at me then nodded. “You’re a psycho,” he said.
“I know, darling.” I knelt down next to him then took his wrist. He grimaced and shied away from me. “This is going to hurt.”
“Wait,” he said, “hold on, don’t—”
I took his hand in mine like we were about to arm wrestle. I pulled his arm down, then turned his hand out, so his palm faced toward my chest. He groaned and I felt his shoulder slip back into place. Once it was in, I stretched his arm out then pressed against the shoulder with my fingers.
With his other hand, he reached into his waistband. I jabbed my fist into his nose once, twice, then grabbed his other hand and pulled the gun from his fingers.
“Come on,” I said. “Are you serious? I pop your shoulder back into place, and you try that shit.”
“Fuck you,” he said. “Had to try.”
“Talk to your Don.” I patted his face hard. Blood poured from his broken nose. “Tell him I stopped by. Tell him what we talked about. And seriously, Roberto, don’t be stupid. You know I don’t fuck around about this stuff.”
He stared up at me and I could tell he wanted to spit.
I almost wanted him to do it. I’d be happy to rearrange his face a little bit more.
Instead, he just nodded once.
I slipped his gun into my waistband and stood. He pushed himself up and sat there, bleeding from his nose, right arm resting in his lap.
He said nothing as I opened the door, looked outside, and stepped into the hallway.
The construction guys were still cleaning up and cursing at each other. I whistled as I walked past them.
“‘Scuse me, gents,” I said. “Bad mess there. Someone really fucked up.”
“Asshole,” Pigman muttered.
I smiled as I walked out onto the street. Not a bad afternoon, as far as it went.
Now I just had to hope my little message finally reached the Don.
25
Elise
My father burst in through the front door and threw himself across the room. I stood up from the couch, mouth hanging open. “What’s going on?”