Page 11 of The Pawn
“I’m talking about eight million dollars. I’m talking about Michael Moretti somehow getting an injection of cash, eight fucking million dollars, and buying his sister back!”
I hold up my phone, show him the confirmation of deposit.
He looks at it, then at me. “You think Sev gave him the money?”
“I don’t know, Jet. Did he? Did he send a loaded gun to my two-year-old nephew? Who the hell knows how far your brother will go— Fuck! We’re wasting time. Get out of my way!”
“I’m coming with you.”
“No, you’re not.”
“I’m coming whether you like it or not.”
“Christ. You know what? You want to get yourself killed, fucking fine.” I stalk out of the house, heading toward the waiting SUV. Jet stops to open the passenger side door of the Porsche and reaches in to grab something. I notice it’s a Glock. I didn’t know he had one. He tucks it into the back of his pants and falls into step beside me.
“He’s not going to be at the Moretti house. That’d be stupid.”
“You know how to use that thing?” I ask, gesturing to the gun.
“Don’t worry about me.”
“You know playing mafia can get you killed?” Iclimb into the SUV and Jet follows me in. I tell the soldier whose place he took to get in another car. We have a fucking procession of them.
“I’m not playing and he’s not going to be at the house,” he repeats, looking straight ahead.
I look at him in profile. I used to trust him, but he’s proven himself false. And if nothing else, his last name is Blackstone.
He must feel my eyes boring into the side of his skull because he turns to me.
“How’d you get her phone?” I ask.
“Amal.”
“Lombardi’s daughter?”
He nods.
“That why you’re here?”
He studies me. “I’m here to make sure you don’t do anything too stupid.”
“Like taking Amal and what’s the boy’s name? Daniel?” He doesn’t respond. “I’ll tell you what,” I start as we approach the house because I need to focus. “Let’s put a pin in this. Whatever the hellthisis. Whatever you were trying to do giving her that phone. Bribing my guards. Being in my apartment with her. We’re going to discuss that. But first, I’m going to get Allegra back. And if I even think for a fucking second that you betrayed me, that you had anything to do with this? The bullet I put in your skull will teach you once and for all what it means to be on the wrong side of me.”
Jet grits his jaw, but doesn’t respond.
“Get him a vest,” I tell a soldier, then turn to Jet. “If a bullet’s going to kill you, it’s going to be mine.”
Jet puts on his vest. I turn my gaze to the house as ourSUVs slow to join the two already parked on the lawn. I take my Glock out of its holster and hold it at my side.
The house is dark. I doubt anyone’s inside, but like I said, it’s a start. When I get to the house, my men are waiting, each of them dressed in black, one holding a battering ram. I look at it, then at him.
“Do it.” I don’t bother to knock. I want to leave as much destruction behind me as possible. I want to send a very clear message to anyone involved.
The door crashes open and six men file inside, AK-47s ready.
I walk in next, Jet following me. The house is pitch black. Men scatter throughout the first floor, up the stairs to the second. A few minutes pass as I make my way to Alaric Moretti’s office. Everything is clear, no one here. But from the look of things, and this is confirmed when we turn the lights on, someone was here, and they left in a hurry.
Jet goes upstairs to search the bedrooms. I tuck the Glock back into its holster before looking around the study. This room is undisturbed, but in the living room is a broken vase and two of the dining room chairs are turned on their side. The kitchen is untouched, all entrances intact.
