28. Nerio
28
NERIO
I watch Elliott count down, my jaw clenched so tight my teeth might crack. The sight of Mantione's meaty fingers tangled in Jazz's gorgeous curls makes my trigger finger itch. Her eyes meet mine, steady and fierce despite the gun I see trained on her.
"Five..."
Mantione shifts his stance, sweat beading on his upper lip. Good. Let him squirm.
"Four..."
Jazz's chest rises and falls in measured breaths. She's keeping it together better than half the men in this warehouse.
"Three-"
"I don't need your fucking help finding my own family!" Mantione's voice echoes off the metal walls. His grip on Jazz's hair tightens, yanking her head back. My hand is up in an instant, gun trained on the asshole as I see her wince. "You think I can't handle my own business?"
I take a measured step forward, keeping my gun trained on his face. "Get a grip on that ego and make the trade, Mantione. Your pride isn't worth what happens next."
"You threatening me, Bueti?"
"Statement of fact." My voice stays ice cold, but inside I'm calculating exactly how many of his men I can take out before they return fire. Three, maybe four if I'm quick. The rest of my guys are in position. One signal and this place turns into a shooting gallery.
Jazz doesn't make a sound, but I catch the slight tremor in her hands. Thirty more seconds. That's my limit before I light this place up, deal be damned.
"You're not the one calling shots here." Mantione presses the gun harder against Jazz's skin.
"Neither are you." I bare my teeth in what might pass for a smile. "Clock's ticking."
My finger hovers over the trigger, muscles coiled tight. One wrong move from Mantione and I'll paint these walls with his brain matter. Jazz has been in his hands too long already. Each second feels like another nail in someone's coffin.
Mantione's jaw works back and forth, his grip on Jazz loosening a fraction. The warehouse air grows thick with tension as he considers his options. I keep my aim steady, picturing the exact trajectory the bullet would take through his skull.
Finally, he jerks his chin at his men. "Cut her loose."
One of his soldiers produces a knife, sawing through the zip ties binding Jazz's wrists. She doesn't rub at the raw skin or show any sign of weakness. That's my girl. She's tough in front of everyone else.
Her eyes find mine, burning with a mix of steel and relief that makes my chest tight. I take a step forward, ready to get her the hell out of here.
A meaty hand clamps around Jazz's bicep as one of Mantione's soldiers yanks her backward. "Not so fast. You owe the boss."
Elliott's fingers dance across his tablet. The screens surrounding us go black, plunging sections of the warehouse into shadow. Mantione's face contorts with rage.
"What the fuck?" He whirls on Elliott. "Turn it back on!"
Elliott holds up a flash drive, letting it dangle between his fingers. "Everything you're looking for is right here. Names, locations, security protocols — the whole operation laid out nice and neat." He tosses it in the air, catching it with practiced ease. "Let her go, and it's yours."
"You think you can dictate terms to me?" Mantione's voice drops dangerously low.
"I think you've got about thirty seconds before this drive gets wiped clean." Elliott's expression remains neutral behind his glasses. "Your choice."
The soldier's grip on Jazz tightens. She doesn't flinch, but I see the muscle jump in her jaw. My finger curls around the trigger.
"Clock's ticking," Elliott adds, his thumb hovering over the tablet screen. "Twenty seconds."
"Let her go." Mantione spits the words like they taste foul. He jerks his head at his men, who release their hold on Jazz.
She moves with careful grace, each step measured as she crosses the concrete floor. Her chin stays high, shoulders back, refusing to show an ounce of fear. Pride swells in my chest even as rage burns through my veins at the raw spots on her wrists.
The moment she's within reach, I pull her against me, keeping my gun trained on Mantione. Jazz's body trembles slightly against mine, but her spine remains steel-straight. I wrap my arm tighter around her waist, anchoring her to me.
"The drive." I nod to Elliott.
He tosses it in a clean arc. Mantione snatches it from the air, his meaty fingers crushing around the plastic. Pure hatred twists his features as he glares at me.
"This isn't fucking over, Bueti." His knuckles go white around the drive. "You think you can waltz in here, dictate terms-"
"Save the speech." I cut him off, watching Luca stroll across the warehouse floor like this is a Sunday picnic. Marco let him go with the drive like we discussed earlier, but damn. The kid's got balls, I'll give him that. His father's face darkens further at his casual demeanor.
"It better be over." My voice carries clear across the space between us. "We need a truce, Mantione. Your pride isn't worth starting a war neither of us can afford."
Jazz's fingers dig into my side as Mantione takes a menacing step forward. I angle my body, keeping her partially shielded behind me while maintaining my aim.
"A truce?" Mantione barks out a harsh laugh. "After this shit show?"
"Exactly because of this." I keep my tone level. "Next time it won't end with just a trade."
Luca reaches his father's side, hands in his pockets like we're at a business lunch. Mantione's jaw clenches so hard I can hear his teeth grind from here.
He stares at the flash drive in his meaty fist, calculating. His eyes dart around the warehouse, taking in his men's positions, probably counting odds I'd rather he didn't think of.
Elliott taps his tablet screen with deliberate slowness. "Just so we're clear — I'm still connected to that drive. One wrong move and everything on it becomes digital confetti."
"You little shit-" Mantione takes a step forward, but Luca's hand shoots out, gripping his father's arm.
"He's right." Luca's voice carries authority despite his age. "We need this intel. And they're offering a clean slate."
I keep Jazz pressed against my side, my gun unwavering. Her breathing has steadied, but tension radiates through her body where it meets mine.
Mantione's nostrils flare. "A truce. Just like that?"
"Just like that." I lock eyes with him. "Unless you prefer body bags to business deals."
"Think about it." Luca's grip tightens on his father's arm. It's not lost on me that there's more warmth between me and my inner circle than there is between the father and son I'm watching. "War's bad for profits."
The warehouse falls silent except for the hum of distant machinery. I count Mantione's breaths, watching the calculation play across his face.
Finally, he jerks his chin in a sharp nod. "Fine. Truce holds. But step out of line once-"
"Same goes for you. I’ll even let Sal go." I cut him off, already backing toward our exit. The surprise on his face makes me smirk, but I am a man of my word. I’ll let his guy go. "Marco, Tony – flanks."
My men move with practiced efficiency, forming a protective circle around Jazz and me. Elliott falls in behind us, still tapping away at his tablet.
"Data's locked down tight now." Elliott's voice carries just enough to reach Mantione. "Try anything cute with that drive and it'll fry itself."
"Get us out of here." I guide Jazz toward the door, keeping my body between her and any potential threats. My men's footsteps echo in perfect sync as we retreat, weapons ready.
The cool night air hits my face as we emerge from the warehouse. Jazz's stride never falters as we make our way to the waiting cars, even though I can feel fine tremors running through her frame.
But she is safe now. She is with me. And I need to make it clear that she is untouchable to the other families.
There's only one way to do that…