Page 127 of Vows of a Mobster
I thought about his words for a minute. If it weren’t the Irish, who was it?
“Also, he is not only asking about Brianna,” Giovanni continued. He cared about my woman a lot and jealousy ate at me. He was just a few years older than Brianna, he would be a good man for her but I’d bury my cousin if he so much as looked at her in any other way other than respect. “He’s also asking about Emma. He dug up Emma’s medical records, where she went to daycare. We found detailed records he had about Brianna from her first year at Columbia University through when she started working for you. That’s when his trail ran cold.”
I could see his point. The Irish wouldn't care about her college years or anything until the moment Brianna was connected to me.
“Now he just wants to negotiate for his life, assuring us he will pay any ransom.”
We both grinned. There wasn’t a ransom on earth that would save him from me. He was a threat to the woman I loved.Brianna is the woman I love.
I patted Giovanni on the shoulder. “My turn to take a stab at him.”
He nodded and I stepped into the room where our captive was being held. It was a windowless room, all concrete walls. The faint light lit the man on the cot. He was in his mid-forties, an ugly gash of an old scar down his face. His eyes were cruel and dead, but now they held fear.
Good, he is smart enough to fear.I would take advantage of his fear.
He stood up from the bed, his breathing heavy. He tried to charge at me, but I stopped him in his tracks, using my fist as it connected with his face. I grabbed his collar and threw him against the wall. A loud thump echoed, his body slumped and slid onto the floor.
I heard the door open behind me but I never averted my eyes.
“You good?” It was Giovanni. “Want me to stay?’
“Yes, stay for the show,” I told him.
Our captive stared up at me. He understood where his biggest threat was. Subtly, he scooted further away from me. “What do you want?”
“Answers.” I breathed out. “You will tell me why you are sniffing around Brianna and Emma Bernadotte.”
Her name on my lips sounded Italian. I wanted to know why she changed her last name, why she picked that name.
“The Irish hired me.” He swallowed hard, lifting himself up and he slammed against the cot.
“When?”
“Two months ago.”
“Why?”
“They want her and the girl dead.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
He was lying. I let him believe I bought his bullshit. I watched him ease into his role of being the provider of information. The only problem… he was feeding me lies. I lunged across the room and grabbed him by his throat, choking the life out of him. He clawed at my hands, but my gloves protected my skin. I wanted to sever his tongue then his head, but I’d bid my time. It wasn’t time yet. The motherfucker would need his tongue to tell me who he was working for. I watched as his dark eyes began to bulge from his head. His face red from exertion and lack of oxygen.
He started wheezing and I released him. He fell onto the floor, gasping for the air like a fish out of water. He sat there, staring at me, waiting for the next thing.
“Ready to talk?” I asked him.
“I told you everything.”
I sighed. “I guess we will take the hard route.”
I lifted him once again, pressing his back into the concrete wall. My fist impaled his stomach, taking his breath again. Then I hit him so hard in the chest, I felt his bones crack under my fist. Contrary to popular belief, it only takes a few calculated punches to crack a human rib.
“Wait,” he wheezed out.
“And I was just getting started,” I taunted him.
