I’m curious how he’ll make murder sound banal.
“The price varies, but our level of service is distinguished. Some wish to end the connection at the end of a single evening. Others…well, they’re not ready to say goodbye yet, so their new acquaintance travels with them.”
Translation: If the asshole who paid for some terrified and unwilling woman to spend the night with him is fortunate, he’ll turn her back over to Marco…who probably gives her to Paulie or Sal to use before he feeds her a bullet. But if the rich asshole isn’t done with his new toy yet, he’ll take her with him to wherever the fuck he’s going…and God help her then.
The entire scheme is sickening and inhumane. But I keep my opinion to myself.
“I see.” I smile blandly. “And you’d like me to…”
“Take over this line of business. It’s incredibly lucrative, so I’m looking to franchise in other locations and set up a more steady supply of merchandise. We’re getting by now. But this could be far more profitable, I think, with your touch.”
Not if I can help it. “Sure.”
He beams and pats my face as if I’m a beloved nephew. “Excellent. While I’m saddened Luca isn’t with us anymore, I’m grateful he led you to us. Sal gives you a hard time, but you’ve been indispensable.”
Glad Donzelli sees it that way. It makes my life easier. “Thank you.”
“Not at all. I know you’ll do great things with my ‘pet’ project,” he chortles, then leads me around a corner, past a side door, between a pair of armed guards, and down another long hall—filled with cage after cage of people locked up like animals.
“See for yourself.” He gestures.
I swallow as I pace up the walkway between the two sets of enclosures. I’m going to fucking be sick.
The shadows obscure details, but I turn to stare into the terrified face of a woman who looks about twenty-two, another belonging to a girl who’s maybe all of fifteen, then—oh, shit—a little boy who appears about five or six. That’s a new low for these animals. I can’t fucking look at the rest.
I swallow back the violent urge to kill Marco Donzelli here and now. Drugs are one thing. If people want to pollute their bodies, that’s their issue. But abducting bystanders for a buck so entitled pricks can violate them? Even for someone with his history and reputation, this is depraved.
“You’re awfully quiet.” He sounds displeased.
“Taking it in. Honestly, I had no idea…” How horrible it was. On paper was bad enough. I’m a tough son of a bitch, but seeing these people shreds my guts. No one deserves this abuse.
My admission that he put one over on me perks Donzelli up. “We’ve done a very good job of being discreet. Of course, we’ve paid off the right people. Detectives, judges, even some local FBI. I think we’re nearly poised to become a premiere provider in the region, maybe the whole West Coast. But this needs to be…what’s that phrase you’re always using to describe making a line of business better?”
“Optimized,” I recite automatically.
“That’s it. Paulie has been trying to help me, but he lacks your expertise. And he tends to play a bit too roughly with the product.” He nods at a young blonde who sports a giant bruise on her face. She’s a trembling, shell-shocked wreck whose tears stained her pale cheeks. In the next cage over, a barely legal brunette clutches her hand, offering silent comfort.
“Doesn’t Paulie understand that’s bad for business?”
The boss sighs. “He gets carried away. You’ve proven to be far more…measured. You haven’t availed yourself of any available female companionship in months.”
That he knows of. And I intend to keep it that way. “Haven’t seen anyone interesting.”
Donzelli nods. “Discerning. I like that. Since you’ve shown restraint, you’re welcome to sample the merchandise as long as you don’t damage it.”
That’s never going to happen. “Thank you, sir.”
“Of course.”
The guard from the nearby desk rises suddenly and makes his way to the boss, skewering me with a glance, then whispers something in his ear.
Marco raises a brow. “Really? Thank you.” He turns to me. “I’ve just been advised that Paulie has returned from an outing with exceptionally good news.”
Anything that’s good news for Paul Carboni is probably shitty news for me. “Oh?”
“Let’s go hear it. Afterward, you can look around, gather ideas how to improve…um, what’s the right phrase?”
“Output and profitability?”
“Exactly.”
I resist the urge to swear under my breath. “Let’s go.”
It takes all my balls and fortitude to turn my back on Donzelli’s “pets” in cages and retrace my steps toward the elevators. But whatever’s going on with the boss and his underlings may well affect my next move.
Because, unbeknownst to any of them, I’m not just here to take over the organization someday. I’m here to burn it to the ground.