Cocktail and threats

Chapter 3: Cocktail and threats

Armando

Enzo burst into my office without knocking— the only man who'd dare. “We've got a problem.”

I didn't look up from the shipment manifests. “Speak.”

“Luca Bianchi's been feeding intel to the Rinaldis.” Enzo responded, taking a seat.

My pen froze mid-signature. The Bianchis were supposed to be allies. “Proof?”

Enzo tossed surveillance photos on my desk. “He's been meeting their consigliere at Prism every Thursday. The gay bar off 5th.”

I studied the grainy images, it showed Luca handing over envelopes and taking thick stacks of cash. My jaw tightened. “He's not gay.”

“Exactly.” Enzo lit a cigarette, the flame reflecting in his dark eyes. “Makes for perfect dead drops. Who'd suspect?”

I stood, rolling my sleeves. “Gather six men. No guns, I want this executed quietly.”

I hated gay bars, the disco lights, loud music, people of the same gender rubbing onto each other. That wasn't my scene, it's not that I have any problems with gay people, I just didn't like it. So you'd know that everything about this place sets my teeth on edge.

“There.” Enzo nodded toward VIP. Luca sat nursing a vodka tonic, his foot tapping nervously.

I checked my watch and smiled. “Seems like he's spooked, I wonder why.”

Right on cue, a Rinaldi soldier slid into the booth. The exchange happened fast—envelope passed under the table, hands shaking.

Amateurs!

I signaled to Enzo and he texted my team.

Two men blocked the back exit. Three more joined the dance floor. Enzo and I approached from the front.

Immediately the Rinaldi soldier saw me, he took off, leaving Luca to face me alone. I signaled for one of my men to get him, they knew what to do with him.

Luca looked up, his face draining of color when he saw me. “D…Don! I can explain…”

I grabbed his tie, yanking him close. “Save it for the basement.”

Luca sobbed as my men shoved him into the van. “Please! They threatened my sister!”

I lit a cigar, exhaling smoke into his face. “And now you've threatened my peace.” The door slammed shut.

Enzo clapped my shoulder. “Drink? We haven't celebrated a win in months.”

“Business isn't done.” I stated, heading to the direction of where we parked.

“Come on, boss. One whiskey. You've been on edge since the Montreal deal.”

I hesitated. The Luca situation had been handled cleanly. Maybe one drink.

We headed inside and we were served drinks by the bartender. The whiskey burned going down. It felt good, I love taking my whiskey neat because of that burn. Except this time my vision blurred after two sips.

I gripped the counter. This wasn't just alcohol. I knew this feeling, it was rohypnol and it was maybe mixed with something stronger.

“Enzo.” My voice came out slurred.

He turned from his phone. “Christ, boss. You look like hell.”

“Someone...drugged me.” The words felt thick. “Find out...who poured this.”

I stumbled off the stool, I needed air, I needed to…

Then I saw her.

Gwendolyn.

The girl from St. Agnes. Orphanage, the only girl I've ever loved, she never noticed me. Not when I sat beside her in the chapel, not when I left extra bread on her tray, not even when I used to watch her braid Nico's hair through the orphanage window.

She was the one whose bills I fought so hard to pay for twelve years. The one whose graduation I'd watched from the back row like some pathetic ghost.

And now three bitches had her cornered by the bar, one waving a switchblade and immediately rage cut through the drug haze, no one messes with my girl.

The three girls ran when they saw me coming. It seemed like they knew who I was. Smart.

Gwen turned, chest heaving. “Th…thanks. They were about to…”

Up close, she was more beautiful than in all my stolen photos. Her freckles were like cinnamon dust across her nose and don't get me started on those lips that were slightly chapped from her biting on them.

I slurred some words about her being pretty and she laughed, dismissing me as being hammered but I didn't mind, I knew what I was doing.

And before I could stop myself, my hands were in her hair, my mouth crushing hers. She tasted like coconut and bad decisions. I should've stopped, I should've walked away.

But the drug—or maybe just her—made me reckless.

The Morning light illuminated across Gwen's bare shoulder. She slept curled on her side, her dark lashes fluttering, she looked so peaceful.

My chest ached, I didn't deserve her, she didn't deserve the calamity my world brought. I had to leave her even though I desperately wanted her to wake up next to me and possibly fuck her again— this time, sober.

Instead I dressed silently, my muscles screaming from whatever cocktail they'd slipped me. The note took three tries—my hands shook so badly.

“Don't look for me.”

The door clicked shut behind me. I dialed Enzo before the elevator arrived.

“Talk.”

“We got the bartender. The kid's singing like a canary in the basement.” Enzo responded.

I pressed the elevator button. “Who drugged me?”

“Rinaldis paid him. It seems they knew you'd come for Luca.” Enzo stated, sighing loudly.

The pieces clicked. It was all a setup. They wanted me drugged and vulnerable.

And Gwen...

Ice flooded my veins. Shit! They'd seen me with her.

“Boss, what should we do with him?”

I stepped into the elevator. “Break his fingers. Then ask him what else the Rinaldis know. I'm on my way.”

I got into my car and sped back to my mansion, immediately I got home I headed for the basement.

The bartender hung from the ceiling chains, his left eye already swollen shut and blood dripped onto the concrete floor. His blood of course.

I rolled up my sleeves, the scent of Gwen’s perfume still clinging to my skin. It made me vicious. What the hell did they want with her?

“Now tell me everything you told this gentleman,” I said, pointing to Enzo.

Enzo drove a fist into the kid’s ribs and we heard a crack. The bartender screamed, his voice raw from hours of this.

“I already told him!” he sobbed. “The Rinaldis paid me! Five grand to slip something in your drink!”

I stepped into the dim light, watching him flinch. “What something? And how do you know they are the Rinaldis?”

“They had the Rinaldis signature tattoo and as for the powder, I don’t know what it contained!”

I grabbed his jaw, squeezing until he groaned. “Something tells me that isn't all.”

His lips quivered, “one of them said they wanted you... distracted.”

A cold realization hit me, they hadn’t just wanted me vulnerable. They’d wanted me to make a mistake.

And I had. I led them to Gwen.

I turned to Enzo, mouth agape. “Who saw me leave with her?”

The bartender whimpered. “I…I don't know! I swear…”

I drove my knife through his hand. His shriek echoed off the walls.

“Wrong answer,” I whispered.

Then the door burst open.

My consigliere, Matteo, stood panting, his phone clutched in a death grip. “Don. The Rinaldis just sent this.”

He turned the screen toward me, it was a surveillance photo, grainy but unmistakable.

It was a picture of Gwen leaving the hotel, with a red target circle over her face.