Page 16 of She Found Me

“Mr. Guerra, what is all this about?” The Prime Minister takes a seat, putting his hands together on his lap.

“For generations, the Guerra have ruled the cities through business, not bloodshed. Granted, the way we carry out justice isn’t the way the police force would, but we keep the streets in order. We do not tolerate disrespect, only loyalty. We pay taxes—taxes that fund this country and your government.”

The Prime Minister nods in agreement.

“Lorenzo has disregarded our unwritten agreement, our legacy. You must understand, Mr. Prime Minister, Lorenzo is creating a war between the police and the Guerra, which in turn means I am at war with the government. And I can assure you, I will win that war. The Guerra will stop paying any taxes. Investments in government projects will stop. Crime will soar, protection will cease, favours will stop.”

“I can assure you, Mr. Guerra, this is the last thing I, or the government, want.”

“I bet it’s not,” I agree, remembering the large coverup the Guerra did for him and his peers just last month. “He has forty-eight hours. You may stay in my office and use my phone. Sort it out, Prime Minister, or you’ll be my first example.”

Nodding his head in agreement, the man looks white as a ghost.

“Van will stay here while you make your calls,” I state, then leave them to it.

I want to check on the hostages. Lorenzo’s family are in one of the private lounges. They seem comfortable and as relaxed as can be expected under the circumstances. As long as Lorenzo sees sense, they will come to no harm.

Chapter 9

Marco

The police are all in the bar area. Each of them has their hands behind them in their own handcuffs—that’s Van’s little quirk. He thinks restraining them with their own equipment is hilarious. They don’t look as relaxed as Lorenzo’s family. Some of them are terrified, sat on their own, heads down and trying not to make eye contact with anyone, while others are huddled in groups, trying the play the heroes by quietly plotting their escape or takeover, thinking we don’t know what they are up to.

A few of my men enter the room with plates of food for the hostages. They lay them down on the tables.

“Eat. But if I see anyone eating like animals straight from the dish, I will lock you in a cage and treat you like an animal,” one of them instructs. The hostages look at each other in disbelief.

“Are you going to uncuff us, then?”

“No,” another of my men says as he lays a bunch of metre-long canes with plastic spoons attached to the ends next to the plates. “We know how many of these there are. If any are missing when we collect them, you will each lose that amount of fingers.”

My men then leave the room, laughing. I keep watching through the one-way glass window, interested to see how it unfolds. This technique is a good way of finding out who we need to keep our eye on and possibly split from the rest of the group as well as who will be mostly likely to crack under pressure and give us information we need. As expected, voices are raised and tempers grow, but eventually one clever dick realises that they can hold the cane at their back, spoon on some food and feed someone else. My men will be watching the cameras and assessing each hostage.

Once I have made sure everything is under control, I leave.

Knowing Mia’s location, I find her in a coffee shop in town.

“Make that two,” I demand over her shoulder as she orders her coffee.

Mia doesn’t turn around to greet me, but I see her reflection in the coffee machine in front of her. She rolls her eyes with pouty lips. We make our way to the end of the queue in silence. When I try and pay for both our drinks, she bats my hand away.

It’s not until I join her at a table that she speaks to me.

“Marco, what are you doing here?”

“I’m having a coffee. What are you doing here?”

“This is getting ridiculous. You’re acting like some kind of stalker. Haven’t you got something better to do?”

“Oh, there’s definitely something better I’d rather be doing.” I lean back in my chair and give her a wink.

Mia scowls at me, but I can see she’s fighting a smile.

“You will go to dinner with me tonight.”

“No, I won’t. I am busy tonight.”

“Who with?” I demand. She better not be seeing that weasel Ross again.

---