Page 68 of Assistant to the Mafia

“Sonofabitch,” Romeo muttered. The bastard wasn’t just affiliated with the Ink Blots. He knew their goddamn benefactor, Brendan Coughlan.

twenty

To the Future

Romeo’s glare settled on Cristiano’s careful arrangement of tools. Everyone had their own style for this sort of work, it was true. Cris seemed to like options—or at least to keep his victims guessing.

A ball-peen hammer caught Romeo’s eye and Romeo moved without conscious thought. It was nearly identical to the one he’d used on that dipshit Ink Blot about a week prior. The weight felt good in his hand. He wasn’t sure what it was about this type of hammer, but apparently, they appealed to him. “Cris.”

His cousin, who had been in the process of threatening to saw off something a little more intimate than a toe, eased back from their captive to look over at him. “Yeah?”

“Changed my mind.” Romeo bounced the hammer between his palms like a toy. “Don’t let me kill him.”

Cris stood and stepped away, nodding once. “I’ll do my best. Have fun.”

Filip Tracey let out a strained laugh. “Don’t even have any self-control, huh, De Salvo?”

Romeo walked up, making sure the chained man could see the hammer in his hands, and dropped a foot heavily onto Tracey’s nearest knee. He waited impatiently for the man to finish writhing from the resulting pain and said, “Does it feel like you’ve ‘won’, Fil?” He leaned forward, shifting his weight and lowering himself closer in a faux-conversational move that would put more weight on the foot still planted on Tracey’s knee. “You don’t mind if I call you Fil, do you?”

Tracey’s chest heaved and spittle flew from his mouth. “It’s Filip, you sick fuck.”

“Oh, so you do mind. Huh.” Romeo straightened, careful not to remove his foot. “Well, I’d still appreciate it if you’d answer the question. Fil.”

Tracey’s shoulders wrenched as if he were attempting to surge forward, but the motion pulled on his leg and he immediately dropped back down. “I’d appreciate it,” he snarled between ragged breaths, “if you got the fuck off.”

Romeo made a dramatic face. “Ew, Fil, we’re not friends like that.” He pointedly glanced in Cris’s direction. “Can you believe this asshole just asked me to jack off for him?”

Cris shook his head slowly. “Definitely over the line.”

A strange choking sound escaped the man on the ground. “Are you fucking ser—”

Romeo swung the ball-peen down in a sharp arch, letting the rounded end connect with Tracey’s solar plexus. Only then did he move his foot from the man’s broken knee as Tracey’s body did its best to contort, gasping and gagging all over again. “Yes, Filip. I’m very serious.” He watched Tracey collect himself, gaze unwavering, and hovered the hammer above Tracey’s genitals. “Now, I realize you think you’re prepared to die, but let me give you some perspective. You have attempted to take the life of the woman I love on three separate occasions. Most recently, you even had the gall to endanger my daughter.”

Romeo paused to let the meaning of that sink in, but continued before Tracey could respond with more than a grunt. “So, before you throw your life away for a piece of shit we will put down, consider the larger ramifications. Are you sure there’s no one—not a single fucking soul in the entire world—you would want spared of our wrath? Because there’s only one way to make that happen, Filip. And it’s not by letting yourself die first like some dumb fucking coward.”

Tracey made a gurgling sound, and after a moment, it became clear he was laughing. “You think I’d be doing this shit if I had anyone like that?” His lips lifted in a nasty grin. “Closest person to me is Brendan. So go right ahead and try, fuckers.”

“That so?” Romeo twirled the hammer around, debating their options. “Am I to assume, then, that you targeted Grace because of her connection to our family?”

Tracey sneered. “We’ll destroy you all, and everything you give a single shit about. Brendan’s gonna burn you to the goddamn ground.”

Brendan, Brendan, Brendan. “Grace said you were working valet at that building for months. Why now?”

“Why does a bitch suck cock? It sure ain’t ‘cause she likes it.” Tracey chortled again as if he were funny.

“I want to carve out his tongue,” Cris said, his voice dark. “With the little metal nail file my wife keeps in her purse.”

Romeo watched Tracey shift his focus enough to glare in Cris’s general direction, then finally let the ball-peen drop one more time. Not because it would accomplish anything for the interrogation, but because he was going to ask Cris to delay that need for violence, so he wanted to offer a small token of apology. Catching Tracey off-guard was icing on the proverbial cake.

He took the hammer with him as he stepped away from their captive, making sure to avoid the puddle of blood by his feet. “You might have to let him keep his tongue a little longer, cousin. I don’t suppose you carry any kind of torch in that bag?”

Cris arched a brow. “I don’t. That’s not my thing.”

Right. “Does it sound to you like our friend here is designed to send us one massive love letter?”

Cris frowned and inclined his head. “What are you thinking?”

Romeo tossed the hammer off to the side, away from the presumably clean weapons. “That we send one back. Might as well use the same messenger, of course. The real important thing is getting the wording right.” He looked over toward Mo, who had remained silent against the back wall. “Go grab the burner and signal Dante. This is his court now. We need the Dragon.”

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