I don’t think they do the milk-carton thing anymore, but there’s no point mentioning it. I shrug. “Nothing I could do to prevent that.”
He considers that for several seconds. “Perhaps not. You will not breathe a word about this to the police. Understood?”
I don’t reply immediately as the possibility of telling Jake about Joe plays through my mind.
“Understood?” Joe repeats harshly.
The menace in his tone gets my full attention. I nod.
He switches back to conversational mode. “We should discuss a few things, Mr. Valenti.”
Things that will undoubtedly involve the well-being of my father and daughter. I swallow and do what I can to tamp down the terror in my voice when I ask, “What things?”
A slow smile creeps over Joe’s face. “That daughter of yours is a lovely girl. It would be a shame if something untoward were to happen to her.”
“You son of a bitch,” I snarl with my hands locked on the armrests of my chair to hold me in place. He’s three, four feet away—I can probably get my hands around his neck before he can lift his gun. My threatening tone prompts movement in the periphery of my vision as Joe’s goombahs go on point. “Where is she?”
Joe taunts me with a mocking smile. “Now, now, Mr. Valenti. You know I can’t tell you that. Rest assured that Brittany is safe… for the moment. Comfortable even, especially locked away in a bedroom with that beefcake boyfriend of hers.”
This is the first time he’s explicitly acknowledged that he has Brittany and Bobby. I should have seen this coming, I think as the final moments of his visit last week play through my memory: “Have it your way, Mr. Valenti. I’m afraid you’ll have to live with the responsibility for what happens next.” This is all my fault.
“The boyfriend was a bit of an unwelcome complication,” Joe continues. “But he might prove useful in keeping Brittany under control.” He shoots a grin at the goons and adds, “Couple of good-looking fifteen-year-olds with raging hormones thrown together in a tough spot they might not get out of. It’s a good bet that Bobby’s keeping Brittany’s mind off her troubles by fucking her brains out, huh?”
“Are you trying to provoke me?” I growl through clenched teeth while the goons chuckle.
Joe waves the notion aside.
“Just shoot me and be done with it if that’s what you’re here to do,” I say.
Joe purses his lips and shakes his head. “It may yet come to that, Mr. Valenti—for all of you—but I’ve come today to make a point or two.”
I glare at him wordlessly while my imagination plays out a scene of my caving his head in with Papa’s floor lamp.
Something lurking in Joe’s amused eyes suggests that he knows I’m thinking tough-guy thoughts. He doesn’t look worried. “So, no cops, Mr. Valenti.”
How many fucking times is he going to tell me that?
“We will know if you talk to any cops,” he warns me with a pointed look.
The bastards probably do have eyes and ears within the local police forces. Hell, Jake was worried about just that possibility the night we spirited Papa and Max out of the country. Joe seems to be waiting for an answer when my mind returns to the present. I nod curtly.
He dips his head in acknowledgment. “Are you ready to tell us where Francesco is?”
When I realize that he’s leading up to exchanging my daughter’s safety for my father’s whereabouts, I stare back at him with as pure a hatred as I’ve ever felt toward a human being—not that this animal is anything more than a feral beast. What the hell do I do now?
Joe rests his elbows on his knees and eases closer. “The other thing we discussed last week was your legal work for R & B Ramp Services. I trust you’ve given some thought to how you can assure me that our mutual interests are aligned in that matter?”
Yeah, I’ve given this some thought, but not in the way he wants. I’m trying to figure a way out of this mess. Unsuccessfully. The leverage this guy has over me is like being squeezed in a vise. I nod dejectedly.
“Well?” Joe asks. “Ready to play ball?”
Am I? My daughter’s life is at immediate risk. At least I hope it is. I’ve only got this asshole’s word that she’s even alive. My father’s life will probably be forfeit if I reveal his whereabouts. The ruination of Billy Likens’s future is assured if I play along. I can’t betray any of them. I stare back implacably at Joe. I need to play for time while I figure out a way to turn the tables on this worthless piece of shit.
Joe frowns. “You’re a hardheaded son of a gun, aren’t you? Not necessarily a quality I disapprove of, but stupid when you hold no cards, Mr. Valenti.”
My stomach is digesting itself while I stare back at him in the forlorn hope that he doesn’t smell the fear emanating off me like steam in a sauna. Of course, he smells it. All predators play on and exploit the fear of their prey.
Joe slaps his thighs and gets to his feet, then fixes me with a long, intense stare. “You’re playing a dangerous game with other people’s lives.”
Don’t I know it.
“Let’s go, boys,” he says to his gorillas, who obediently follow him to the front door. Joe pauses with his hand on the doorknob and looks back at me. “The clock is ticking, Mr. Valenti. I’ll expect to hear the answers I want within forty-eight hours.”
And then? I wonder while an overpowering wave of gloom rolls over me.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Brittany has now been missing for the better part of two days, and I’m twenty-four hours into the forty-eight hours Joe has given me to fold. I haven’t slept a wink. Nor has all the time awake wrestling with the problem resolved the impossible conundrum I’m in.
“Tony?”
