Page 81 of Power
“Looking forward to it.” Providence hung up.
As she drove out of Liv’s driveway, determination spurred her onward. She would work the case for Fred. She’d return to ALPHA for the Ops who’d been murdered, and she’d do it for herself. A shiver skirted through her, but she wasn’t backing down.
It’s time… time to face the devil.
LUCIANO
Luciano walkedinto Willie Boy’s restaurant, pausing at the hostess stand. “Tara, is Willie Boy in the back?”
“Hello, Mr. Santini,” Tara replied. “He’s there. I can bring you?—”
“I got this.” He flashed her a quick smile, took off into the busy eatery.
Willie Boy didn’t know how to run a business save his ass, but he was surrounded by people who did. Seven days a week, from eleven in the morning until midnight, locals looking for authentic Italian cuisine dined there. Nothing fancy, just damn good food.
He passed the closed door to Willie Boy’s private salon and entered the billiard room. Two pool tables took up most of the dingy room, a handful of chairs lined one of the walls.
What a dump.
Two people he didn’t recognize were playing a game of pool.
“I’m looking for Frankie,” Luciano said. “Have you seen him?
They both shook their heads.
Luciano retraced his steps, stopping at Willie Boy’s private salon. Not bothering to knock, Luciano walked in. He swept the room in search of his target and found his cousin sitting at his regular table in the back, surrounded by his usual group of kiss-ass associates. Luciano was there for information and he was not leaving until he got it.
As he approached the table, the lowlifes scattered. Only Willie Boy and the nobody who wanted a mil in boodle stayed.
Willie Boy glanced over and grinned. “Heyo, Lulu! We was just talking ‘bout cha. You remember my friend, Dante.”
Luciano kept his attention glued to his cousin. “You seen Frankie?”
“Frankie hasn’t been ‘round,” Willie Boy said. “I heard he left town.”
Luciano approached the table. Willie Boy kicked out the wooden chair with his foot. “Sit, have a beer with us.”
Refusing to sit, Luciano said, “I need Frankie’s number.”
Dante shot him a cool stare. “Mr. Santini, I was hoping you’d changed your mind. Willie Boy is convinced you can help me.”
“Help you with what?” Luciano snapped.
“That mil in counterfeit,” he said fiddling with his diamond pinky ring. “Like yourself, I’m not used to refusals.”
Luciano didn’t give a fuck about Dante. Shifting his attention back to Willie Boy, he said, “You got a number for Frankie?”
Willie Boy scrolled through his phone, rattled off the number, then dialed. The number had been disconnected. Per usual, his cousin was of no help to him. Most likely, Frankie was dead.
What a fucking waste of time.
“I’m gone,” Luciano said.
Dante stood. “I’ll walk you out.”
“I don’t need an escort.” Luciano tossed a nod at Willie Boy before leaving the salon.
Outside the restaurant, Luciano slid on his sunglasses while Stuart brought the vehicle around.
