Page 52 of Chaos & Carnage

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It’s late that night when Antonio calls, telling us to get our asses over to Toxic pronto. Despite the late hour, the heavy bass of the music can be heard as soon as we step out of the car.

Instead of heading inside, Cain leads us down the side of the building and around to the back. There is another narrower road back here, most likely intended for delivery vehicles, but I can’t make out much else other than the outline of dumpsters and trash cans in the pitch dark.

Cain moves over to a steel door set into the side of the building. He enters a code into a keypad, and less than a second later, I hear the lock disengage. Curious, I peer into the darkened interior, unable to see what’s inside, while he props the door open.

Sawyer moves closer, too, curiosity getting the better of her. However, before either of us can find out more, the rumbling of an approaching engine draws my attention. Looking to my left, headlights shine down the narrow road, set high enough off the ground to blind me. I raise my hand, blocking the glare, watching as the vehicle slows its approach before coming to a stop. From the corner of my eye, I notice Dante shift so he’s standing in front of Sawyer, blocking her. Smart. Presumably, this is Antonio, but we can’t be too cautious, especially when it comes to protecting Sawyer.

My fingers tighten around the gun clipped to my belt, and my muscles tense as the van door opens.

“It’s just me,” Antonio announces, and via the interior car light, I can see he’s got his hands raised. Smart man. Of course, he’s worked with Dante long enough to know how to survive around him, and I’ve no doubt he can sense the distrust and promise of violence radiating off each of us. “He’s in the back.” He tilts his head toward the back of the van but does not attempt to move in that direction. Another smart move on his part.

“Open it,” Dante orders. Only then does Antonio move, still keeping his hands where we can all see them as he steps toward the back of the van.

With slow, practiced movements, he unlocks the back of the van, pulling open one door and then the next so we can all see inside where a man is trussed up like a turkey, lying face down on the floor, unconscious.

With a signal from Dante, Antonio steps aside, and Oliver and I climb into the van. Fisting the back of the man’s hair, I yank his head back to get a good look at his face. Even with his fat lip and purple eye, I instantly recognize him as Brent, one of Giovanni’s personal security team members. I’m surprisingly impressed, even as I mentally note that this guy’s absence will soon be missed.

“We have poker nights every Thursday,” Antonio explains casually with a shrug. “Wasn’t difficult to slip a few crushed-up benzos in his beer and wait till everyone else left.” He waves toward Brent’s face. “He put up a bit of resistance just before he passed out, but nothing I couldn’t handle.”

“Why?” There’s a harsh bite in Dante’s tone, and when I glance up at him, he’s staring at Antonio with wary curiosity. What he’s really asking iswhy the fuck do you have weekly poker sessions with one of Giovanni’s security team?

Not appearing bothered by the promise of violence in Dante’s voice—he’s spent enough time around Dante over the years to genuinely not be affected—he gives another nonchalant shrug of his shoulder. “You can never have enough information, especially regarding those you don’t trust, and I wouldn’t trust your father not to stab me in the back the second he thinks I’m not looking.”

Can’t say I blame him. Dante must agree as he nods his head after a moment of harsh scrutiny.

“Who is he?” Sawyer asks, staring at him curiously.

“Brent. One of my father’s personal security.”

Sawyer’s lips form a silent O. With no other questions, Oliver and I drag Brent out of the van, taking little care to ensure his head doesn’t whack off the top of the door when we hustle him through it.

“You realize we can’t let you leave, right?” Cain informs Antonio, eyeing him up and down with undisguised distrust.

With a resigned expression, Antonio nods his head. “Yeah, I figured as much.” He jerks his chin toward Brent. “You’ll have about twenty-four hours before people start questioning his whereabouts.”

He’s not saying anything I hadn’t already figured out, butdamn. Let’s hope we can get some useful information out of this guy quickly so we can put a plan together and get to Giovanni before anyone reports missing a member of his security team. There’s no way that won’t immediately raise red flags and blow any chance we have at catching him unaware.

Sawyer closes the back doors of the van while Cain directs us all over to the mysterious steel door. Oliver and I fall into step behind him, dragging an unconscious Brent between us. Antonio is behind us, with Dante and Sawyer bringing up the rear.

The darkness swallows Cain as he steps through the doorway, and a moment later, as Oliver and I cross the threshold, fluorescent bulbs flicker to life above us, illuminating a short hallway with a couple of doors leading off it.

Stopping at the first door, Cain glances over his shoulder. “Antonio, you’re in here. Someone will bring you food and water and let you out to use the bathroom in the morning.”

Craning to look over my shoulder, I watch as Antonio hands his phone and a set of keys over to Dante, who passes them to Sawyer. As if being held hostage is a common occurrence—it’s not, but he’s been in the life long enough to know the drill with these sorts of things—he holds his arms out to his sides and spreads his legs wide so Dante can give him a pat down.

With clinical efficiency, Dante does exactly that before giving a professional nod of his head, indicating Antonio is clean. With nothing else to say, Antonio moves toward the door Cain has unlocked and is holding open for him.

A single bulb hangs from the ceiling, showing gray walls and a gray concrete floor with a single chair positioned in the middle of the room over a drain.Nice digs,real comfortable looking. Antonio appears unaffected by his grim lodgings for the next twenty-four hours as he casts his eyes around the walls, before Cain cuts off my view, pulling the door closed before moving on.

Wiping thoughts of Antonio from my head, I heft Brent up on my shoulder before following after Cain to another door further down the hall. Similar to the previous room, the door has a keypad inset. When Cain punches in a code and it clicks open, the overhead light flickering to life, I see it’s the same charming setup as Antonio’s room next door.

Oliver and I dump Brent in the chair in the middle of the room, and Oliver gets to work grabbing duct tape from a bench hidden behind the door, tying Brent’s wrists and ankles to the arms and legs.

An ominous weight fills the air as the five of us form a semi-circle around him, staring down at his unconscious form.

“Now what?” Sawyer asks. Her voice is quiet, but I don’t detect any nervousness or fear. If anything, her straight spine and pushed-back shoulders imply the exact opposite. She’s ready to do whatever it takes to get the information we need.

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