“You’re no friend. I know who you really are.”
He lifts a thick, dark brow. “Oh, really? Do tell.”
“You’re the man who’s angry with Frank Evangelista and my father for reneging on a drug deal gone bad. They didn’t want any part in it and you’re sore.”
“Sore?” He laughs, empathically. “Four hundred millions dollars don’t leave you sore. It makes you fucking angry enough to kill.”
“You tried to use me for your own gain. You shot up Villa Russo, harmed my uncle Vic. You sent Rocco to intimidate me. You had me stalked and followed, and you had my father shot. You’re a career criminal,” I spit.
He seems happy with my assessment because he’s laughing. It’s a menacing laugh, and it booms off the brick walls. When the laughter subsides, he strikes the match and lights his cigarette.
“I was told you were a wallflower. I didn’t know you were feisty. Here’s where you’re all wrong. Frank and your father didn’t pull out of the deal because there are altruistic. The Sicilian Mafia is undercutting the Calabrians. There’s a war in the mother country and we all got invited to the party. Your father is going to move product for Sicily now. Or did you not believe he had it in him?”
I look away from him, not wanting to hear any of this, but he leans in further. “I’ll tell you what, Amelia. I have one match left in this pack. If it lights, I’ll spare your sister. If it fails, she’s dead.”
He flicks the match before I even have a chance to tell him what a sick fuck he is. I hold my breath, for fear the slightest breeze will put it out, and I watch as it lights. My eyes follow the antagonizing, slow trip from the matchbook to the end of his cigarette. He puffs, forcing smoke out the end, and I’ve never been happier to be trapped in a windowless room with a smoker.
Carlo Lugazzi exhales and looks at the match as he shakes it out. “You’re lucky because I’m pissed and desperate for some retaliation.”
“You’d kill my sister over a bad deal?”
“No,” he says. “That was just a bluff. I’d never kill your sister. She’s a cute girl. Your father, on the other hand, will be slit like a fucking fish.”
“You can’t!” I cry.
He laughs. “I will. After I get rid of you for fucking up tonight’s assignment.” The calm and steady demeanor has morphed into something sinister. He rises and slaps my face so hard that the entire side of my face stings, and I think a tooth was knocked out. “Valedictorian, and she can’t get simple goddamn instructions down.”
He kicks my chair, pushing me over so my body crashes to the floor. He’s standing over me as he yells, “Raphael had better get his money in order because I want my money, or they’re all dead—Raphael, Frank, Enzo, and Joey. They’re all going because Carlo Lugazzi doesn’t play games. Not anymore.”
“You’d never. You’ll start a war!”
“Then, they should have thought twice before they fucked with me. And you, little miss, are going away for a long time.”
“What for?” I ask as he snaps his fingers, making his thugs pick up my chair and right it.
When I look up at Carlo, he’s smiling. “For trying to fix the Mega Lotto. You are going to get decades for that, princess.”
“It was a stupid plan that didn’t work! You can’t blackmail me because …” I close my eyes and try to think of something I just can’t explain. I’m not where I belong. I was in my car, and I was pulled over. “Salinger,” I breathe.
Carlo flicks his ashes on my legs. “Did you know he grew up in the Bronx? We were altar boys together. Very tight, as the kids say.”
Salinger was the double agent Jesse was talking about. He gave his trust to the wrong man. Only a handful of people know Jesse exists, and Salinger is one of them, meaning the department is compromised and Jesse’s life is in danger. I need to get to him, save him. Lugazzi will kill him for sure.
“What can I do to make this right?” I plead. “There has to be something. DeLuca and I can—”
“Tragic actually. DeLuca suffered a heart attack on the drive home. Poor out-of-shape bastard.”
The burn of tears is painful in my throat. “Please don’t say that.”
“Coroner already picked up the body. It was a possible crash too. The interstate is backed up to the bridge.”
“Carlo, please. I can help. If you wanted me arrested, you would have done it. You brought me here for a reason. Why?”
“You’re right about that.” He takes out his phone and snaps a picture. “Just smile for Daddy.”
The bright light of the camera blinds me.
I’m shaking off the constant white light in my eyes when the door opens again. Two more thugs come barreling in, dragging a man by his feet. They throw him on the ground.
Carlo looks down at the man, disgusted. “What a shame. He had such a pretty face. Oh, well.” He throws up his hands and walks to the door, barking orders, “Tie him up, and when he wakes, he’ll be smart enough to give up what he knows. And if he doesn’t, kill him.”
“Yes, sir,” one thug grumbles as they hoist the man up by his underarms.
I gasp when I see it’s Jesse.
He’s bruised, and beaten to a pulp from head to toe. His left eye is swollen, and the right is squeezed tight, like he passed out in pain. His lip is thick, and his arm hangs, looking as if it’s broken.
“This is the boyfriend, no?” a thug says to me with a laugh.
“Mob daughter fell for a cop. What a joke.” The other takes out zip ties, and they strap them to Jesse’s arms and legs, securing him to the chair,
