Page 41 of The Almost One

“Do you believe him, Enzo?” This is our game. Good mob boss, bad mob boss. Except we’re both bad and poor Kevin knows it.

“I mean, he’s got a convincing way about him.”

Kevin’s eyes light up with a spark of hope as he nods his head, agreeing with Enzo’s bullshit line.

“Hmm, he does, he does. I just need to make sure. You understand, right, Kevin? I have to protect my wife.”

Kevin nods more assertively, his lip bleeding all over him, his saliva falling in long dribbles onto his lap.

“So let me ask you this…” I bring the knife to his balls and push just enough to make him whimper. “Do your parents know who gave you the envelope?” Kevin’s eyes widen at my question, his fear now real and palpable. I’ve gone there. I’ve now threatened his parents without actually saying the words.

“No, no. They don’t even know I gamble. Please, Mr. Mancini. They’re innocent in all of this. They think I got a job and I’m living just fine at the docks.” Ah, nothing worse than being deceived by your only child.

“Shame. After everything they’ve done for you, you let them down like this.” The deeper I press my knife, the higher Kevin’s screams get. “Who gave you the fucking envelope?”

Then, there it is. The pop of one of his testicles. Blood stains his cargo shorts in less than five seconds as he screams into the emptiness of the warehouse, spit and blood flying from his mouth.

“Kevin, this is the part where you tell me who gave you the fucking envelope.” I’m already bored with this guy. “Look, I’m certain your parents have no fucking clue what a loser you are, so it’d be a shame to have to end them. Do the right thing, Kevin. Save their lives.”

On cue, Enzo brings up his phone and there, on the screen, is Kevin’s clueless mother serving apple pie to one of my men playing the part of a missionary collecting money for the homeless children. “Talk, asshole. All I have to do is give the signal and your mother is worm food.” I look over at Enzo and raise a brow. Harsh? Yes. But also true.

“It don’t matter. If I talk, they’ll kill them too.” Fucking finally. Now we’re getting somewhere.

“Give me a fucking name, Kevin. I’ll kill your whole goddamn family if I have to. I want the fucking name.”

On a sob and with my guy thanking Mrs. Moss for her delicious apple pie, asking if that’s cinnamon that she added to the recipe, Kevin finally gives me what I already knew.

“Ugo Ambrosio.”

Bingo.

Walking around Kevin, I pull his head back and whisper in his ear.

“You did good. Your parents have our protection for your good deed but you, Kevin, scared my wife, and for that, there’s nothing on this planet that can protect you from me. Any last wishes?”

“I’m sorr—” He doesn’t have time to finish his apology before my knife slices through his vocal chords from one side of his neck clear through to the other, taking his life right along with it.

Nobody fucks with my wife.

“Yeah.”

Glancing up at Enzo as he answers his phone, I wipe my knife clean and groan when I see the blood splatter all over my shirt. Good thing I always bring a change of clothes for these events.

“For fuck sake.”

That gets my attention.

“When?”

Jesus, I do not like his tone.

“We’re on our way.”

“Who was that?” Three of our guys arrive and start cleaning up. I nod at them, not knowing their names, but sure I’ve seen one of them around before.

“Justin said River sneaked out. He can’t find her.” His words don’t compute because if they did, it would sound a lot like River’s missing and my brain cannot fucking handle one more goddamn fire.

“Where the fuck is she?” My voice is anything but calm, even though an outsider would never guess. It’s the fire burning each of my syllables that gives my rage away.

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