No Boundaries

He was in a dark suit. Green bowtie. What the hell was with the bowtie? He wasn’t a man, he was just a kid. He was at least five years younger than me. I doubted if he could even legally drink yet. Jesus, this was going to be a mess.

I followed him into the warehouse. There were crates on either side of us. A steel table sat in the middle of an open space. Another thug stood by it. Anger raced under my skin. “I thought we made it clear, this is only a two-man deal.”

“Oh, him? He’s nobody. The security around the clock. I have to protect my investments.” He waved the guy off. I watched as he stood by the door, just out of reach. That was going to make this more difficult.

Marco walked across the warehouse and looked for other guards. We were already outnumbered, anymore and we’d be outgunned too.

“Let's see this. I don't have all night.”

The kid smiled devilishly. “Something hot waiting for you at home?”

I flinched at the comment. “It's none of your damn business. Now let's get this done.”

“Got AK-47s and a few grenades here. That's mostly what I sell. Not sure what the Mexicans told you, but some of the bigger artillery didn't come for me. It’s too difficult to get over the border.”

“Fine, fine. Got any other references? I like to know what other people thought. Make sure they had a good experience.”

“You know I can’t tell you that. The seller never gives away his vendors and buyers. Makes him seem like he's easily turned.”

I nodded. I knew getting his list of buyers wouldn’t be that simple.

“I can have more buyers by the end of this week. So I need to know how much you are interested in.”

I pulled out my wallet and dropped a couple grand in hundreds on the table. “I'm interested. There's a lot more where that came from.”

The money didn't make his eyes go big, so he was obviously selling to some big fish. That, or he had one hell of a poker face. That made me nervous. That meant that Armani wasn't selling his guns cheap enough for his buyers to stay with him. So even when I ended this little punk, the buyers would go look for someone else. And that wasn't good for my father's business, because then he couldn't keep his word to his friends. I also wasn't in the mood to be killing some little shits every day the week. That would be an easy way to land myself back in prison.

“So what do you know about Armani and his people? I heard they’re in the same business.”

“I've heard of him. We’re not on the same level. He sells handguns, nothing like what I have. We are hardly in the same business.”

“Really? That's not what I heard.”

“Listen man, I don't have all night. Are you buying or not?”

“I'm buying all right.” I watched out of the corner of my eye as the guy next to the door crumpled and fell to the ground. Marco must've brought a silencer with him. The seller looked over his shoulder and noticed immediately what was up. He pulled his own weapon

and so did the muscle he had with him. But I didn’t even move a muscle. I didn’t need to. Marco was too quick for them. He shot the security guy and I watched as the huge man fell to the ground. He wasn't dead. He was bleeding from the shoulder and grabbing it with his other hand. There was blood spray on the floor; the bullet had gone straight through. Marco walked up behind the seller with his gun outstretched. “Drop it.”

The seller rolled his eyes but he did as he was told. He put the gun on the table and put his hands up. I grabbed a chair from the other side of the warehouse and sat him down in it.

“Now that it’s finally just us, tell me about how much of our business you stole.”

He made a face of disgust. “I'm not a thief! If they came to me, it was because my product and prices were better.”

“That's not what matters to us.”

“Us? And who the hell is us?”

I didn't like the way he was speaking to me. I balled up my fist and pulled it back. “Us is the Gioti family.” I landed my right hook across the left side of his face. When my fist connected, there was an audible crack, and his head snapped to the right. He let out a groan and turned back to face me as he spat blood out on the floor.

“And I'm going to make sure you don't fucking forget it.”

I landed another right hook to his face, and this time, he spat out a couple teeth. I pulled the knife out and I dragged it across his left arm, leaving a nice slash with blood trickling down onto the cement floor. There would be more there shortly.

“Now you tell me who your buyers are, or I'm going to kill you.”

“You're going to kill me anyway. I'm not stupid.”