Page 55 of Taking Care of the Target

Vince was too smart to send Bobby in alone with the money, and apparently he was hell-bent on paying off the debt himself. Disappointing when it came to needing something to hold over him, yet another reason Carlo wanted Vince on his side. Resourceful in a bad situationandcool under pressure was in short supply these days.

“As long as I get paid, I’ve got no problem with you,” Big Al said, suspicion clipping his words. He was fishing… and worried, which Carlo couldn’t help enjoying after what a pain in the ass he’d been. “Just wanted to make sure that was clear, if I hadn’t relayed that in my previous calls.”

Carlo rolled his eyes. Drama queens, the lot of them. “You’ll get your money. Stop hounding me all the time, and there’s no reason we can’t keep getting along.”

“Sorry, but you know how it is. If word gets around I let one of my dealers get away with not paying…”

“I hear ya, fuhggedaboutit.”

“Grazie.Oh, and they also brought a woman with them. Young. Blond. Looks like she doesn’t belong. Just seemed weird, so I thought I’d mention it.”

Now why would Vince go and take Cassie with him? Carlo supposed it could be another blonde, but he doubted it. She certainly wasn’t at work today.

“You got eyes on her right now?” Carlo asked.

“Yeah. She’s sitting at the bar in the club. Why? What do you want us to do?”

Chapter Twenty-Six

“Good job, kid,” Jim said to Mancini, clapping him on the back. This had been quite the day of interesting, unexpected turns in the Rossi case, and he couldn’t help but be optimistic they were finally getting somewhere.

“Hopefully this makes up for blowing the surveillance on the waitress,” Mancini said.

“This makes up for anything you might’ve ever done wrong in your life.” Jim slowed at the door to the interrogation room. He’d sat for several hours at McCarthy’s, waiting for Cassie, who didn’t show. Imagine his surprise when Carlo Rossi himself made an appearance. Jim hoped he played off his shock quickly enough. The temptation to move closer and attempt to overhear that phone call had nearly overwhelmed him, but he’d forced himself to play it cool. Despite also wanting to stay longer, he paid his bill and took off to avoid being made.

Meanwhile across town, Mancini watched Dante Costa load his car up with enough drugs to get an army high and called for backup. They followed him, hoping to catch him selling red-handed, and miracle of miracles, that’s exactly what happened. So they brought him down to one of the local stations. Between one other arrest for possession and an assault charge, this made strike three, and that meant serious time.

With any luck, they could turn him against Carlo Rossi and use this as the domino push that took down the entire organization. If not, well, Dante could enjoy prison, and Carlo would have to scramble for someone to replace him. Disorder always helped create mistakes, and they’d be there to catch them.

“Ready?” Jim asked, and Mancini nodded, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Get your game face on, then.”

Mancini narrowed his eyes into slits, and now Jim was the one fighting a smile. No counting chicks before they hatched. First they had to get him to talk. Before he insisted on a lawyer.

Jim opened the door, and he and Mancini strode into the room. Dante sat in a chair on the other side of the table, his hands cuffed to the bar in the center. A snake tattoo coiled around one of his massive arms, and when he met Jim’s eye, the bastard grinned.

What he wouldn’t do to be able to knock that smug look right off his face. Instead he casually sat opposite him. “Looks like you’ve landed yourself in a bit of trouble.”

Dante shrugged. “Not my first rodeo.”

“I know. It’s your third. Maybe you’ve heard that New Jersey’s got a three-strike law. They take it pretty seriously, too.”

That took off the arrogant edge. His eyes hardened. “It’s only two. That assault charge was dropped. Didn’t they teach you to read in the academy, copper?”

Jim fought the urge to run out and retrieve his files. Not that they were in this station; they were back at FBI headquarters in Newark. He’d looked at them so often. How had he forgotten that? No doubt the assault charges were dropped with the threat of another assault.

His mind spun, searching for something else useful on Dante’s rap sheet. “You’re forgetting the restraining order. Not what a judge wants to see.”

“That broad is crazy. She was just pissed I dumped her bony ass.” Dante’s smug grin returned. “So as fun as this has been, I’ll just wait for my lawyer to get here.”

“If that’s the way you want it,” Mancini said with a shrug. “Of course, if you lawyer up, it’ll be hard to protect you.”

“From who? You guys going to rough me up? Go ahead and try. My lawyer would eat that shit up.”

“From Carlo.” Mancini tipped his chair back, the front legs coming a few inches off the floor. “We’ve got an inside man, and he’s going to be telling the big guy you’ve turned on him—stir the pot a little, you know. Call it a fun experiment. Will he shoot you? Will he beat you until he believes you? Either way, it’s no skin offmynose.”

Jim sat still, careful to not betray Mancini’s bluff.

Dante tried to keep up the tough façade, but the wheels were spinning. “The boss wouldn’t believe that. I’m one of his most loyal men.”

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