Debt Collector's Due
“No, he wants to talk with you. It’s not my place to comment.” I glance at Ifan. He shrugs.
“You can give him the phone. You get one chance with us. You screw me over right now. It’ll be the last thing you do.”
“I understand.” He’s an American with a touch of a Bostonian tone. It doesn’t take any guesswork to figure out who sent this fucker. I step back and listen as he rattles off a number and Ifan dials. He holds his phone up to his ears, and the man rattles off in Italian.
“He wants to speak with you.”
“I thought we had a deal.”
“I needed to send eyes to see first-person if you had anything to do with … an event that’s happened here.”
“You came over here and disrespected me in my home. Scared my wife and my son. This isn’t going to slide.”
“Nor did I expect you to. I apologize for how …. Poorly this was handled. Please allow me to make amends by offering you our mutual friend. Blood for Blood.”
“If someone had been hurt we wouldn’t have even made it to this call.”
“Hmm. He had explicit directions. It’s a pity he didn’t follow them better.”
The callous indifference is horrifying. A leader who finds his people unworthy is dangerous and usually quite narcissistic. It’s an awful combination for anyone in power to have.
“You think I’m going to let this go?”
“For now. Until we met again on some other plane of battle. Congratulations on the nuptials. It’s all they’re talking ‘bout here.”
Who the fuck does this guy think he is? I want to retaliate, but I know better. The man who acts rashly always ends up over his head. That’s not me anymore. I have others to look out for. The Albanos and Brizzi’s time will come, but it won’t be until they’ve gotten themselves nice and comfortable. He’s not well-liked, only feared. Eventually one will outweigh the other, and he’ll be vulnerable to a takedown from within.
“I guess this is –
I pull the gun from my belt and shoot the man in the head.
“Goodbye.” The dial tone sounds in my ear. I didn’t want to torture the lackey. I’ll save that for the man behind the puppet.
“What the hell did he mean by an incident that happened?” Ifan asks.
“I don’t know, but we’ll find out quietly.”
“I understand,” Ifan says.
“Good. We’ll get a cleaner down here. I want him gone within the next hour.”
“I’ll start the clean-up myself and call for disposal. You go be with your family. Kier looked rattled.”
I sigh. “She wanted to spare him all this.”
“This isn’t on you, mate. Porter left a lot of loose ends.”
“One I fear we’ll be tying up before too long,” I say honestly.
“One day at a time, right?”
I nod my head and pat his shoulder as I walk by and make my way up the stairs. The walls here are reinforced and soundproof. We have a drain that goes down into the ground and enough equipment to make the hardest man crack, eventually. I like torture. It lets me set wrongs right and extract information. Any other day I would’ve worked the man over until the sun rose, and he silently begged me for death because his voice had given out hours before. Tonight, all I want to do is comfort my family. I stop in the bathroom to rinse my hands and wash the evidence down the drain with bleach. I peel the shirt over my head, place it in a bin, and remove the bag, tying it up and setting it outside the bathroom to take out with the body. Blood is a bitch to try and get out, and it’s stupid to risk being caught over an item I can easily replace.
I move to my room and slowly open the door. Athena’s lying on her back with a sleeping Kier curled up to her.
“Is everything okay?” she asks softly.
“Yes, love, they were from Boston. Wanted to check in on us and make sure we were keeping our end of the bargain. I let them know we didn’t appreciate it.”