Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 111537 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 558(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111537 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 558(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
He swallows thickly, his voice nearly inaudible when he speaks. “My boy Taylor brought me.”
“Taylor, huh?” I say, standing back up.
“One of Frankie’s friends,” Edoardo explains.
“Ah,” I exclaim, putting two and two together.
“I don’t like—” Edoardo begins, but I put a stop to it with a raised finger.
“I don’t appreciate people selling information about me,” I tell the kid, making it clear that he is in no way out of the water.
“I understand, Mr. Corello,” the boy whimpers.
“I don’t think you’ve got anything to do with my son,” I tell him. “I think you’re lying to me.”
“Why would I lie?” he shouts, trying to get up.
The men behind him push him back down, and he looks away, seeing the writing on the wall.
“Why would you lie?” I say thoughtfully. “What have you got to lose? I know you’re not some punk who came in with my son after school. Now. I want to know who you are, who you run with, and who else knows.”
“Honest to God…” the kid begins.
I nod, giving my muscles the signal. One bodyguard steps around and slugs the kid in the stomach. The boy doubles over, coughing into his lap. The guard grabs him by the hair and pulls his head back up.
“I don’t believe you,” I say again.
“I swear,” he cries, tears streaming down his cheeks.
“You tell someone where I sleep at night?” I demand, thirsty for action.
When he doesn’t answer, I let my men have at him, pummeling him again and again until finally he’s ready to give me the real story. I motion to the guards to give him some breathing room. He sobs, coughs, and spits out blood. I’m getting bored.
“Talk,” I command.
“I’m on Andretti’s payroll,” the kid whispers.
“That’s what I thought,” I say. “So what was the plan?”
“I was supposed to get close to Frankie, and then use him to get close to you,” the boy wheezes.
“And what then?” I ask.
“I-I was just supposed to be a mole,” he responds. “I was supposed to listen and learn and be there whenever Mr. Andretti called.”
“So why were you running your mouth?” I ask, sticking two fingers under his chin so he looks at me.
One of his eyes is swollen shut, and the other one is a half-moon. He’s hurting, but that’s not going to be the end of it for him. I can’t let this kind of thing go unpunished. I haven’t decided if I’m going to kill him yet. There’s something to be said for dumping his body on Andretti’s doorstep, warning my rival to keep his men off my property.
But maybe I’m feeling generous. The kid obviously isn’t going anywhere if he can’t keep his mouth shut. Maybe I should let him off with just a warning. Of course, the warning is going to have to be a bit more severe than what he’s experienced already. I want to put the fear of God into him. And I want to make it crystal clear that I’m not going to tolerate this kind of behavior.
I roll up my sleeves. The kid sees what I’m doing and starts blubbering. I’m going to have to talk to Frankie when I get home. I need to make him aware that he’s the vulnerable link in our family chain. Not that he doesn’t know that already, but I can’t have him bringing Andretti’s spies into our home.
“I want you to take another look at all of Frankie’s associates,” I tell Edoardo.
“Yes, boss,” Edoardo says.
“You listen to me,” I tell the kid, cracking my knuckles. “I can’t decide whether to let you off with a warning or not. You want to give me a good reason not to send your head over to Andretti in a box?”
“Please, Mr. Corello,” the kid whines, “I’ll never do it again.”
“Damned right, you’ll never do it again,” I swear. “’Cause you’re gonna move clear across the country. And if I ever see you again, I’m gonna finish what I’m about to start, do you understand me?”
“Yes, sir,” he cries.
And I light into him like I used to in the old days. I decide that this is punishment enough. If the kid survives the beating and manages to tell anyone else about it, he’ll explain how Don Corello took care of things personally. That’ll cement my reputation on the streets as someone you don’t want to mess with. I’m pretty pleased with the solution, since it doesn’t involve disposing of a body. I beat the kid until he’s barely breathing, and then leave him on the floor for my men to clean up.
CHAPTER 7
MARLENA
“Igot the job!” my friend Rebecca screams at me over the phone.
“Congratulations!” I say, excited for her even though her success dredges up feelings of personal failure.
“We have to go out to celebrate,” Rebecca insists.
I’m sitting on the couch, painting my toenails. I’ve got a towel wrapped around my head, and I thought I was in for the night. It’s been a long day, and all I want to do is curl up with a pint of Rocky Road and watch something mindless on TV. I want to forget about Frankie and his intimidating father for the time being. But duty calls. I can’t leave my best friend hanging.