Wolfe #2
“I looked up the ownership of the warehouse,” Elio said. “It belongs to a holding company that exists inside a trust owned by Lombardi’s brother.” He turned to Don Mancini, who didn’t meet his look.
My gaze shifted to Francesca’s, and her eyes were wide in alarm at the sight of the blood dripping to my hand. She started to move toward me, like she wanted to stitch me up on the spot.
I shook my head.
She stayed put.
I turned to her father. “I took back your guns, but it came at a price—a war with the Lombardis. Even though they’re the ones who crossed you first, they’re going to do everything they can to destroy you and claim your business.
This outcome was unavoidable. Your only other option was to let them keep the guns and ignore their transgression—but that’s worse than death, in my opinion. ”
Don Mancini stared at me.
“So we hit the Lombardis first. Make them pay for what they’ve done. Show no mercy. No one will ever rob you again. Do nothing—and all of Sicily will think you’re an easy target.”
Don Mancini stared at me for what felt like minutes, absolutely still, not even taking a breath. Then he shifted his attention to Leo. “Secure these in the warehouse. I’ll consider our next course of action.” Then he turned away and started to head back toward the house where Francesca stood.
I should have kept my temper in check, but I’d never done it before, and I wasn’t about to start now. “You’re welcome—by the fucking way.”
Don Mancini stopped.
Everyone else did too.
Leo shifted his gaze between his father and me.
Don Mancini slowly turned around and looked at me.
A stare-down ensued, his emotions hidden under the surface, while mine were plastered on my face like words on a page.
Then he turned away and continued into the house, followed by Elio and Salvatore and his bodyguards, who accompanied him wherever he went.
Leo turned toward me, gave me a nod, and then hopped back into the truck to drive it to the warehouse up the road.
When everyone departed, Francesca rushed to me and examined the linen I’d secured to my wound. “Cristo, you do get shot a lot.” She placed her hand against it then examined her own palm and the blood that stuck to it. “Come on. You’ve already lost a lot of blood.”
She took me into the kitchen and flicked on the light. Then she grabbed her supplies and put them on the counter of the bar while I took a seat and relaxed my arm on the table so she could do what she needed to do.
Normally, I would be enthused by the prospect of being alone with her, but right now, I didn’t feel much besides agitation. I was the most valuable resource at Don Mancini’s disposal, and he continued to dismiss me like I was worthless.
She wordlessly got to work, removing the linen and cleaning my wound. “Went right through you.”
I watched her work.
She started to stitch me up. “I can give you something for the pain when I’m done.”
“I’m fine.”
Her eyes flicked to me a couple times as she worked. “You alright?”
“I said I’m fine.”
“You know what I mean.”
My eyes shifted from the wound to her eyes. “I found your stolen guns and brought them back without casualties on our side—and your father has the audacity to look at me like that. Like I don’t belong here.”
She hooked the thread through my arm and closed sections of my wound, bringing the flesh together to stop the bleeding and prepare it to heal. There would be a scar, but I already had plenty. Nothing a new layer of ink couldn’t hide. “He’s not impulsive. He likes to think things over for a while.”
“I’m not a spy. And I’m not a traitor.”
“I know.”
My eyes hardened on her face.
She continued to work, her eyes down, but when she felt my stare, she looked up again.
I’d felt a connection to her from the moment I saw her. At first, it was just desire of the flesh, but the more I observed her and spoke to her, I quickly realized it was deeper than that. I respected the hell out of her—which was why those words meant something.
The next morning, I arrived at the warehouse to work my shift, but I didn’t last until noon before I arrived at the villa and let myself into the house. I hadn’t seen Francesca today, but she wasn’t the person I sought.
At the bottom of the stairs were Don Mancini’s bodyguards.
“I want to see him.”
“Do you have an appointment?” one of them asked.
“Does your face have an appointment with my fist?” In a flash, I twisted his arm and kicked the back of his knee before I slammed my elbow hard into the back of his head.
It happened so fast, the other bodyguard didn’t have the opportunity to react, so I grabbed him by the neck and slammed his head into the wall, knocking him out cold.
He slid against the wall and down to the floor.
The others in the hallway froze in horror.
I headed up the stairs and approached Don Mancini’s office. I was nice enough to knock.
“What the fuck is it?” he barked.
I let myself inside and approached his desk.
He’d been reading something when I walked in, and the second his eyes flicked up to look at me, he stilled.
But he didn’t display the look of panic a lesser man would show.
I helped myself to the chair in front of his desk.
“Your men informed me I didn’t have an appointment, so I put them to sleep.
” Just wanted to make a point, that I was an unstoppable force, that I could kill him right now if I wanted to.
“In a few minutes, your other men will run into this room to stop me. But if I wanted you dead, you’d be dead already. ”
He gave a quiet sigh and placed his papers off to the side before he sat forward, arms on the desk. “Say your piece, Wolfe.”
“I’m not working in the warehouse anymore.”
“You think you’re above that?”
“I’m not above a hard day’s work. But my skills and experience are wasted as a human dolly.
I revealed that the man you viewed as an ally is actually an adversary, that he stole from you and then laughed behind your back.
That he intends to bury you in the ground then dance across your grave.
And you can’t even acknowledge what I did for you. ”
He continued to stare, his fingers interlocked on the desk.
“And you still won’t.” I sat back in the chair. “I thought I was a stubborn man.”
“Perhaps you knew where the guns were because you put them there.”
“Don’t insult me.”
“Then how did you know they were stolen in the first place? Because none of my men would have told you that.”
I had no proof without sharing a secret far worse than being a spy. “I overheard your men talking. They didn’t know I was there. And it’s a shame that you keep me in the dark because I’m the kind of pit bull you never put on a leash.”
He didn’t need to blink as he stared at me.
I didn’t either. “Make me a part of the crew—or I walk.”
“You’re in no place to make demands.”
“Actually, I am.” I raised my voice. “Because you looked like a fucking idiot until last night. Your guns in some asshole’s warehouse while you wondered if they were really lost rather than stolen from right under your nose.”
His eyes immediately narrowed in ferocity.
“I didn’t ask you to trust me. I just want the job I applied for.”
He released his hands, and he sat back in his leather armchair.
“Something you should know about me—I don’t bluff. So meet my demand, or I walk out of here. I’m sure Leo told you how I raided that warehouse and took out the guards entirely on my own in less than five minutes. You don’t want to admit it, but you fucking need me.”
It was the first time he’d blinked in minutes. Then he continued another lethally long stare.
“Let me help you, Don Mancini.”
His men finally stormed into the room. “Don, are you alright?”
He slightly raised his hand and dismissed them.
I glanced at the watch on my wrist. “Took them three minutes to get their asses up here.”
“I don’t care for your arrogance—”
“And I don’t care for your prejudice, but here we fucking are,” I snapped. “I want a seat at the fucking table—now give it to me.”
Another long stare ensued.
The tension between us was stifling, like someone sucked the air out of the room.
“I’ll have your answer tomorrow, Wolfe.”