Ace crept to the bar, standing outside of it while a lazy bouncer looked him up and down. Ace was hoping that he would be recognized for once.
“I’m here to see the Don,” Ace said with his hood up.
The bouncer kissed his teeth, then slid a toothpick between them. “And who exactly are you?”
Ace looked him dead in the eyes, unrelenting in his glare.
“My name is Ace Moretti,” he said. “I am here to talk to the Don about his missing grandniece.”
He knew that his words were going to spark attention and potential conflict. So Ace held his hands on his head as the bouncer and two sizable henchmen grabbed him by his biceps and pulled him inside.
The bar was dingy and without light beyond the neon glow of drink options behind the bar. Ace had never been inside, of course, but had heard some things. It was a hopping place for the family and their associates, as well as a few ignorant Chicago tourists.
He was dragged past multiple pool tables occupied by members of the family. He assumed this because two of the men who were hauling him into the back pulled out a handgun and shoved it deep into his abdomen.
“No quick movements, shifter boy,” one of the men said, spitting at him.
Ace kept his arms over his head as they jerked him through the back kitchen. They were intentionally being rough with him, which Ace had expected. It was the mob’s way of doing things, to intimidate someone to remain still and not try anything stupid.
Their guns pressed into his side as they took him to Don Fontana, who appeared to be in the middle of trying out the bar’s latest menu. A man in white, presumably the main chef, looked at Ace with horrified eyes.
The Don slid some cheese into his mouth.
“Get them out of here,” he said.
The henchmen gathered the chefs and cooks out of the room by screaming at them. Everyone moved quickly, like frightened cattle, while the Don placed his hand on his large belly. His legs were long, so they hung over his barstool like a praying mantis.
“Ace,” he said, picking up more cheese beside him. “Ace Moretti. What a goddamn pleasure it is to finally meet you.”
The henchmen pushed Ace by the shoulders downward, forcing him to his knees. His body crashed into the floor, and he groaned as the kneecaps met the concrete.
“Are you ready to tell me what you’ve been doing with my grandniece?” the Don said, raising his eyebrows. “Or are you just fucking stupid?”
The men next to Ace were holding their guns on him and proceeded to let out a loud guffaw at the Don’s words. He looked at them, then snapped his fingers with annoyance.
“Keep your guns on him, boys,” the Don said. “This one is a shifter.”
Ace felt the guns press into his neck, making him groan once again.
“Don Fontana,” Ace said. “I’m not here to threaten anyone. I have an idea to help your niece …”
The Don laughed, and it filled the kitchen with a metallic echo. Ace didn’t want to be rude and interrupt him, but he also knew that time was of the essence.
“Please,” Ace said, sounding serious. “I know where she is. I can help you.”
The Don slid one more piece of cheese into his mouth and then brushed his hands together. He remained on top of the barstool, swinging his legs with an annoying casualness.
“What do you have to say to me, cheetah boy?” the Don said. “Come on, spit it out.”
“I know about Benny and Fritz. I know they’ve been skimming off the coke.”
The Don looked at his henchmen, then back at Ace. Ace continued, hoping the faster he talked, the sooner they could find her.
“I know that they’ve been seen meeting up with the Lombardis. I know that Emma discovered the skimming first, and they’ve taken her to silence her about it.”
The Don did not react instantly. Instead, he slowly licked his fingers, nodding along.
“They’ve taken her,” Ace said. “I don’t know where, but they are likely working with the Lombardis somewhere on their turf. I want to help you.”