Page 10 of Ruthless King
Mom loved Mrs. DeVito as much as I do. She loved Dad too, but the man that she knew was gone. I wouldn’t take advantage of our friendship. I’d just have to go down to Canal Street and reason with them. There had to be another way to get my dad out of this mess without selling my body or riskingNonna Maria’sbusiness.
What’s the worst they could do to me, right?
CHAPTER6
THE BOSS IS COMING TO GET YOU
Stella
I stare up at the address stamped across the aluminum grate covering the entrance of 103 Canal Street. With a deep breath to steady my nerves, I lift my knuckles to the metal. The harsh clanging sends my heart shooting up my throat.
A faint buzz catches my attention, and I glance up at the security camera over my head. A red light blinks, and the lens clicks and spins. A moment later, a middle-aged man in a black suit appears behind the barred door.
He opens it a crack, and dark beady eyes meet mine. Wiry gray hair creeps up his temples, mixing with the black. “You Stella?”
I nod.
He takes a step back and ushers me inside. From the first look at the interior, it’s an old pawn shop. The dusty glass cases hold a treasure of gold and silver jewelry and watches.
“Give me your phone.” He extends a meaty palm as I fumble for my cell.
“When will I get it back?”
“Don’t worry about that right now.” He snatches it from my hand and slides it into his jacket pocket. “Now come with me.” He hitches his thumb over his shoulder and leads me toward the back. The hair on the back of my neck rises, and I dip my hand into my pocket, fingers closing around the pepper spray. I’d swapped it out for my inhaler in a last-minute attempt at self-preservation.
As I follow the big man down the dark corridor, my thoughts reel. First off, I’ve never seen this guy at the Red Dragon, and after a year of dating Bo, the asshole, I was pretty familiar with the major players. I was certain I’d find Bo here himself. So who was this guy?
He holds the door open and ticks his head into the dim room. From the crack, I can just make out a hunched figure on a chair. “Dad!” I cry out and race for him, but a firm hand closes around my upper arm.
Another dark-haired male glares down at me, this one a few years younger than the first and with arms so thick his suit clings on like spandex.
My dad lifts his head, both eyes bruised and puffy. “Don’t hurt her, Tony.”
“I’m not a monster, you prick. I wouldn’t hurt a lady.” He releases his hold and motions toward the chair beside my father. Two other males in black suits and matching ruby pocket squares stand in the shadows. Were these the same thugs I’d seen at the Red Dragon? Or did they all just wear the same uniform?
I shoot the first guy a narrowed glare before marching over to check on my dad. His lip is split, and dried blood splotches line his collar. I spin around and glare at this Tony guy. “So you wouldn’t hurt a lady but a middle-aged man is okay,bastardo?”
A flicker of a smile curls the man’s lip. “I didn’t know you were Italian. Not with a father like that.”
“Well, I am. My mother was an Esposito.”
The entire room is blanketed in silence.Yeah, that’s right fuckers.Nonno, my grandfather was kind of a big deal. Way before the Kings and the Red Dragons, and the Chinese Triad ruled these streets.
The man dips his head. “I’m sorry for your loss. I didn’t know Isabella was your mother.”
An odd, strangled sound erupts from my father’s lips, and a knot of emotion thickens my throat. I shove it down. Hard. Now is not the time for sentimental bullshit. I need my wits about me if we’re going to survive this.
Tony reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out his phone. After shooting off a quick text, he pockets it again and rounds the table we’re seated in front of. “Do you have the money?”
I shake my head. “If we had the money, we would’ve given it to you a week ago. Didn’t Bo tell you we were trying to work out a deal?”
“Bo?” The big guy’s thick brows slam together.
“Yeah, Bo Zhang. Aren’t you all Red Dragons?” The moment the words are out I feel like a totalstronza. With dark wavy hair, prominent noses, and thick New York accents, there’s nothing Asian about any of these men.
A deep chuckle erupts from Tony’s thinned lips. “No, sweetheart, we ain’t Red Dragons. We bought out some of their old debts. So now, you owe the Kings.”
Well, shit. On one hand I’m beyond relieved I wouldn’t have to beg Bo for a break, but on the other, the Italian mafia is just as ruthless as the Chinese Triad.
