Page 48 of Protected By the Mafia

The anger sparked again in Chuck’s eyes. “That bitch doesn’t—”

Cristiano sliced the blade over the top of Chuck’s nearest bared foot. Feet held a lot of nerves. Even a shallow wound would hurt.

Chuck cried out again, his eyes half rolling up as his whole body spasmed briefly. It seemed he had a low pain threshold, too.

Even better. Cristiano reached out with his free hand and curled his fist into Chuck’s shirt collar, snapping him upright. “No more warnings, Chuck. I know you sold out to the Ink Blots. What the fuck was your deal, who was your contact—tell me every goddamn detail. Because if you think you’re in pain now, you don’t want me to get serious.”

Chuck sucked in a noisy breath, gaping at him. “Wh-who the fuck are you?” He swallowed hard.

Cristiano offered the fool a vicious smile. “Cristiano De Salvo. Felicity’s fiancé.”

Chuck’s mouth fell open.

Matt made a loud, indecipherable sound. At least he had enough brains to be listening in.

“Fuck,” Chuck muttered, his gaze dropping to the weapons still on display. “Fuck me.”

“You’re starting to get it.” Cristiano brought his blade to Chuck’s belly. “Lots of places I could cut you here that would hurt real fucking bad, but leave you alive for a long-ass time. I’m very good at this, Chuck. So I’ll ask you again, because I’m in a good mood, what—”

“It was Tristán,” Chuck said quickly, the words rushing out of him. “Felicity’s brother. That lunatic came barging into my office a couple months after she moved in, with some other guy I’d never seen before. Real scary looking Hispanic fucker.”

Classy. Cristiano kept the remark to himself and waited. So far, that didn’t illuminate anything useful.

Chuck kept rambling. “Garcia did most of the talking. Told me who he was, said Felicity was—I think he said ‘going through a phase’ or something—and not really talking to him, but he was worried about his little sister living in such a grungy neighborhood. The other guy only spoke up when I took offense to that, saying they were there to offer me a real sweet deal. He said they’d offer my whole property protection with the crew they were putting together, I wouldn’t even have to pay ‘em, if I kept an eye on his sister. Maybe sometimes reported in to him, especially if I ever caught a guy snooping around her place. She’s a pretty girl, he didn’t want some dirtbag taking advantage of his sister. I think he said that, too.”

Cristiano let his head tilt to the side. “Did you ever get the other guy’s name?”

“Uh…” Chuck’s gaze darted sideways, toward Matt. More sweat dripped down his chin. “Barros, I think. I never saw him again, but he … supposedly he sent that jackass over when one of the other apartments on her floor opened up. I was told to report that, too.”

That was uncomfortable information. Felicity wouldn’t appreciate learning the neighbor she’d already had problems with had been a spy for her half-brother, or that she might have had other neighbors on the Ink Blot’s proverbial payroll. From Chuck’s answer, if it was true, the gang was looking to take over the building one apartment at a time. Bastard wanted to trap her in.

Matt made another sound, this one angrier. Cristiano took it as at least partial confirmation.

Keeping his stare on Chuck, Cristiano asked, “You have any way to get in touch with Tristán currently? Or with someone who can?”

Chuck licked his lips. “Y-yeah! I have a number. He doesn’t like when I call, but he always texts back.”

If the responses came via text, it was possible the number didn’t lead directly to the brother. But a lead was a lead. Cristiano dug a small notepad and attached pen from one of his pockets, switched the blade to his other hand, and said, “Give it to me.”

Chuck paused. “It’s in my phone.”

Cristiano stared up at the dumbass. “You really expect me to hit pause here, go find where we stashed your phone, and bring it in, power it on, so you can take your time remembering which contact you hid him under?”

“N-no! I just mean, I don’t have it memorized.” Chuck licked his lips, breathing hard again. “It’s under TG, for Tristán Garcia. I don’t have a number for anyone else, except this guy.” He tipped his head sideways toward Matt.

Cristiano tucked his notepad away, biting back a sigh. He’d have Ryoma verify that later. “Sit tight, then, Chuck. You’ve either been very smart or very fucking stupid. Time will tell.”

“P-please, let me go,” Chuck said as Cristiano turned away. “My hand hurts so bad … I swear I’ll stay quiet. I never saw the guy that grabbed me, anyway!”

Cristiano stopped and narrowed his eyes in Chuck’s direction again. “Chuck. Let’s be clear. You’re not bartering for your freedom. You’re bartering for a less-painful death.”

Chuck opened his mouth to protest.

“You put your hands on my fiancée. You’ve already lived longer than you deserve.” He resumed his path, then, up to Matt. “Now, it’s your turn. I was just going to whale on you. But it turns out you might have information I need, too.” Cristiano ripped the gag from Matt’s mouth. “You only get one chance, though. Because I really, really want to beat the fucking shit out of you for all the torment you’ve put her through.”

Matt promptly spit on him. “You’re both full of shit, you fucking rent-a-cop.”

Cristiano dipped his chin to properly crop his gaze to the soiled spot on his shirt, below his shoulder. It wasn’t as if he’d thought he’d be leaving this room sparkly clean, but letting this scum get a shot of any kind in grated on him. For a split-second, he debated unlocking his cousin’s trademark blowtorch and giving the shithead something new to smoke. But he let the urge pass him by. Fire was Dante’s thing. He didn’t want to step on any more of Dante’s toes than he had to.

---