Chapter Twenty-Three
Rain tapped against the warehouse roof like an ominous clock, counting down time he didn’t have. Alex stood in the shadows, drenched from the dash through the storm, the damp collar of his coat sticking to his neck. In the center of the warehouse, tied to a rusted chair and bruised beyond recognition, was Luca Moretti—one of the last links to the Ventresca murder. Or so Alex hoped.
“Wake him,” Alex ordered.
One of his men splashed cold water on Luca’s face. The man groaned, sputtered, then blinked blearily into the light.
Alex crouched to eye level. “You’re going to tell me who gave the order to kill Carlo Ventresca. And if you lie again, I’ll let Rico take his time with you.”
Luca tried to spit but missed. “You think this is justice? You’re just another thug playing king.”
Alex’s voice dropped. “You’re confusing justice with mercy. I’m not offering either. Not unless you talk.”
The man hesitated, his swollen eye twitching. Then he whispered, “You’re looking in th
