The Woman with the Scar (Costa Family)

You had to admire that in a woman.

“So, you want any help with this guy?” Cesare asked, nodding toward the guy who had a full swing going, the movements so wide he almost hit the wall.

“Or someone here to stop you before you get too carried away?” he added, knowing it was a problem I struggled with time to time.

You know, sometimes you just got really in the zone and shit got out of hand.

Or I got a little inventive and that shit backfired.

“Heard a rumor about you trying to string a guy up by his balls,” Cesare said, laughing.

“Head smashed like a watermelon,” I agreed, grimacing. “I was young and stupid back then. Now I know. If you are going to string someone up by something, there has to be a bone in it. Seems like common sense, but I was just starting out back then.”

“Please. You were maiming and killing when we were in high school.”

He wasn’t wrong about that.

But there were a lot of kinks to work out in those beginning years. The human body was an interesting thing to study when it came to pain that made an impact, but didn’t knock you out or kill you.

“So, what’s the goal here?” Cesare asked, nodding to the guy whose face was getting red from the blood flow moving down from his legs. “Brass knuckles make me think it’s talking you plan on doing.”

“Yeah. Gotta get some answers about who hired him and why. Ant isn’t exactly a high-level target, but…”

“But Emilio is, so you need to know if that is the end-goal here,” Cesare said.

“Something like that. Plus, you know, Ant was in a lot of pain, so our friend here needs to do some suffering.”

“I think talking to him about your problems was causing a great deal of suffering,” Cesare teased. “By all means, proceed,” he said, waving toward the man.

And so I did.

The answers toppled out of the guy’s mouth almost absurdly easily. There was no loyalty toward the man who hired him. In fact, this guy was a low-level freelance enforcer who had just seen a good paycheck and decided to grab for it.

“Not a smart fucking decision, now, was that?” I asked, putting down the crowbar I’d been using down the guy’s shins and back. “Didn’t anyone ever warn you not to mess with the mafia? Who the fuck raised you, man?” I asked, watching as Cesare leaned against the wall, calm as could be. Like he hadn’t been out of the life for years.

“Where have you been?” I asked, curiosity piqued.

“Fucking Maine, believe it or not.”

“Maine? For what?”

“Apparently, the Family has had a little bit of business there for years. There’s a small port. Where shit from other countries comes in. They like having someone there to keep an eye on shit. Should we be talking about this in front of him?” he asked, nodding toward the man who was covered in sweat and bruises, but not a whole lot of blood.

“Fair point,” I agreed, turning back toward the guy with a bag. “Oh, don’t fight it. It’s not the worst way to go,” I told him as I put it over his head. “Just a couple seconds of panic and pain before you fall out,” I told him, even though I knew he wasn’t listening.

“Do you always soft-talk the dying?” Cesare asked.

“Shit-talk, soft-talk, depends on the situation. This guy just took the wrong job. Doesn’t deserve to die in agony,” I said as the body went still.

It was too soon to take off the bag, though.

Even if he was unconscious, it took a couple minutes for death to set in.

“Fair enough,” he agreed. “I can help you dispose of it,” he said.

“Yeah?” I asked, dubious.

“Man, I was the only ranking member of the Family in Maine. You think my hands are clean?” he asked.

Never considered that.

But then again, I had no idea where he’d gone. None of us did save for Lorenzo. Because that was not the kind of shit you wanted getting around when there was a bounty on someone’s head.

“Then after we deal with that, maybe we can head over to Emilio’s Ma’s place for some breakfast.”

She would be happy to have us.

If ever there was a mom who loved to be the stereotypical Italian mom, it was Emilio’s ma.

You could drop in at any time of the day or night, and that woman would stuff you to the gills while simultaneously fussing over you and lecturing you.

It was a good time.

Made me miss the shit out of my mom who never really got much of a chance to have a life after my dad died. Life was a bitch that way.

So Cesare and I cleaned the body, wrapped it up, and set it in my trunk before scrubbing the room, then taking off to get rid of the body.