Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 91389 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91389 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
But she came through. The clever, beautiful girl, she came through like fucking gangbusters. Those texts were a bonanza of fucking information, sleazy side deals, and incriminating offers. Not only has Tommy been meeting with Roc, he’s also been hustling with the Russians and the Turks and, yes, the fucking Serbs, setting up minor drug deals and running blackmail schemes on his clients and using non-family premises to wash his ill-begotten cash.
No wonder the fucking Cage is bringing in so much money. Tommy’s got a million different scams going. And I’d bet a limb that he’s making even more that never touches the Famiglia’s books, meaning he’s not paying the Don his rightful tribute, which is a huge problem.
But Simon can hear about all that when I’m ready.
Roc has a few beers, laughs with some random regulars, and gets up to take a piss. Fucking finally. The guy’s got a bladder like a champion. Once he’s headed back to the head, I follow him and keep my face down, not meeting anyone’s eye.
The men’s room smells like piss and cleaning agent. Roc’s alone at the urinal and he doesn’t look up or react when I lurk behind him. It’s not until he sighs, flushes, zips, and turns, does he finally notice I’m there.
I meet his eye. He doesn’t move.
“Good to see you again,” I say and he lunges at me.
I duck the big man’s fist, jab him twice in the side, kick him in the knee, and draw my revolver. He’s down on the floor, gasping in pain, as I press the barrel to his fucking neck. “Angelo,” he gasps.
“You’re not as fast as you used to be. Got soft while I was in prison?”
“Fuck you. How’d you find me?”
“Get up.”
He stands slowly, and I keep the gun on him. He keeps his hands where I can see them, which is smart.
Roc knows me extremely well. It’s been five years since we last saw each other, but that’s not long enough to forget what I’m like when I’m determined. I’ll kill, I’ll hurt, I’ll maim, I’ll do whatever’s necessary to get what I want, and now that Roc’s under my gun, he knows he’s fucked unless he talks.
“You killed Paulie,” he says, just stating a fact.
“I sure as fuck did. Turn to the door and start walking. If you open your fat mouth, I’ll kill you here and now, and not a single person in the place will complain. I’m a fucking Bianco.”
Roc obeys orders, which is always a good move. We step out of the bathroom and hang a right. There’s a door at the end of the hall that leads into the kitchen. We go straight through, get some weird looks, but the two burly cooks don’t even slow down. At the far side is another door, and it spits us out into an alley.
“He was trying to turn it around,” Roc says. “He had a girl and they were gonna get pregnant. I was leaving him alone. We all were.”
“Paulie’s dead and you’re going to be dead too if you don’t start talking.” There’s a dumpster here and it reeks. Another couple doors lead into the building opposite, and the alley leads to streets on either side. But it’s late and there’s nobody out walking at this time, and besides, we just look like a couple of drunks having a conversation. Nobody’s going to notice the gleam of metal in my hand.
“What do you want, Angelo?”
“Whose idea was it to contact the Serbs?”
Roc’s lips pull into a sneer. “Fuck you.”
I jab the barrel into his neck. “Try again. Who do you owe loyalty to anymore, huh? You think Tommy’s going to help you? He’s not fucking here, Roc, and I don’t know what he’s been kicking over to you these last five years, but I can promise, it’s fucking pennies compared to what he’s rolling in.”
I can tell that bothers him. Roc’s nose crinkles a few times. “I told him it was a dumb fucking idea. I told him those shitty second-rate wannabe Russians couldn’t be trusted. You were supposed to be fucking dead, but they fucked it up.”
I almost laughed. God damn. That made more sense, actually—send in a hit squad, take me down, and run away with the entire arms shipment for themselves. “I bet the cops confiscating everything really pissed Tommy off.”
“You should’ve heard him. Lost his goddamn mind.”
“Was Paulie in on it?”
Roc laughs. “We all were.”
A little knot of guilt untangles. Paulie was trying to go straight—and he still deserved what he got. That fucker. “Why?” I ask even though I know the answer and it doesn’t matter.
“You were cheap and Tommy said we could do better. You were always strutting around telling people your name and honestly, fuck you, and fuck your name. I broke my knuckles. I fucking bled. And you got rich.”