“I swear on our mother’s grave if you say another fucking word, Antonio, I’ll gut you right here.”
“Touchy. Touchy.” He shakes his head, heading toward the door. “I’m going to get a drink. Come get me when it’s time to take out the trash.”
I close my eyes and inhale a deep breath. I love my brother, but I don’t have the patience for his bullshit right now. I wait until I hear the door click shut behind me before I open my eyes. All my attention now focused completely on the traitor in front of me.
“Please have mercy,” Luca snivels, a mixture of snot and tears running down his face.
“The only mercy you’ll get is a quick death.” Fear covers his face as he contemplates his options.
“I don’t know their names, just a voice on the other end of the line. But the voice has an Irish accent. I can’t quite place it.”
Irish? There haven’t been any Irish families in the area in years. Are the Irish looking to move in on our territory, a futile attempt at trying to take over my city?
“They wanted me to funnel money from the accounts for a few months. They never told me why.”
“And how did you make these payments? Wire transfer?”
Luca shakes his head no. “They were old school, wanted cash. They sent someone on the last Friday of every month to pick it up. I would’ve gotten away with it if…” his voice trails off as he swears under his breath.
“But you got greedy.” He nods his head in shame as he finally accepts his fate. Luca knows there’s no way he’s walking out of this room alive.
“What did the pickup man look like?”
“Dark hair and eyes, about five-nine. Tattoos covering his neck and hands.”
“You don’t have a picture, do you?” Matteo questions as he shrugs out of his suit jacket and rolls up his shirt sleeves.
“He was just here about an hour before you arrived.” His head motions toward the far corner. “I have a hidden camera in the corner. The video feed backs up to the hard drive under the desk every forty-eight hours.”
Matteo moves toward the computer, tapping some buttons and bringing up the video feed from a few hours earlier onto the screen. His eyes scan it, looking for the man in question before turning it in my direction. “Here’s the guy.”
My eyes widen in surprise as the same man that followed Celia into the bodega this morning is on the screen. I know this was more than a coincidence. The Irish are doing everything they can to get information about our operation, but the question is why.
Pulling up my sleeve, I glance at my watch before striding out the door. I find Antonio right where he said he would be, his ass planted on a stool at the bar. He turns his attention toward me, a glass of amber-colored liquor swirling around inside.
“It’s time to take out the trash.”
“And how is the trash to be disposed of?” A bright smile spreads across his face, his eyes alight with excitement as he slides off the stool. “Finally, time to have some fun.”
Antonio moves toward the back office, but I grip his shoulder and pull him to a stop. “Burn the entire place to the ground,” I command as I head toward the exit, with Matteo right on my heels.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Matteo holds the door open, allowing me to pass.
“If I were a betting man, I’d say that our leak and the sudden appearance of Celia Johnson in our lives are connected.”
“Are you saying Celia isn’t a threat any longer?”
“She’s a threat until we know exactly what the Irish have on her.” Matteo opens my door before stepping to the side and allowing me to climb in.
“And what do you plan to do when we find out?” Matteo questions, attempting to intimidate me with his stare.
“That depends on her,” I respond cryptically before climbing into the car and rolling down my window.
He shuts the door tightly behind me before taking a step back, his eyes plastered to the side of my face.
We need to know what the Irish are holding over Celia’s head before we can plan our next move. But I’m certain that if I wanted to take Celia out, I’d have to go through both Antonio and Matteo to get to her.
“What now?” Matteo asks as I start the car, his hands clenched at his sides.