Page 32 of Paolo DeLuca
Chapter seventeen
Paolosettledbehindhis desk while the Capo dei Baroni Rossi, leader of the Red Barons, sat across from him with a polite smile. Paolo wasn’t fooled. That smile was full of sourness. There was a reason Rodriguez called for this appointment. Thankfully, Gino called Enzo to give him the rundown on what was happening. He would be in the clear if something went down and he had to injure or kill this man. Paolo was right; Rodriguez didn’t want a war. Hell, Paolo didn’t want a war either. Not when he needed to deal with Cali Martinez. Anything that took place, any blood that would and had been shed was on her as far as Paolo saw it.
“Let’s cut the bullshit,” Paolo said. “What’s the real reason you wanted this meeting? I know it wasn’t to partake in my alcohol.”
The man laughed, held up his beer in a toast, then took a swig before getting to the real point. “Three of my men are missing and were last seen in your territory.”
Now, it was Paolo’s turn to laugh. Rodriguez must’ve forgotten who he was talking to. “This entire city is my fucking territory. You need to be more specific.”
All traces of merriment faded from the room. The man’s façade broke and anger flashed in his eyes. “They were seen being picked up by your men. I want to know where they are.”
“Dead,” Paolo stated matter-of-factly, and the room erupted. Both Gino and Dante pulled guns on the two men flanking Rodriguez when he lunged for Paolo over the desk separating them.
“I wouldn’t be stupid if I were you,” Dante stated menacingly. The deadliness in his tone belied that he wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet in this fucker’s head.
Paolo remained seated, not flinching at the threat on his life. He wasn’t afraid to die. DeLucas never fell or appeared weak.
He watched as Rodriguez’s chest heaved up and down in manufactured anger to cover his fear. Paolo could see it, just there beneath the surface. It was in his wide eyes and the flushness of his skin. The sweat beaded on his brow. Rodriguez knew his entire motherfucking crew would cease to exist at Paolo's word.
“You can have a seat now,” Paolo suggested with a smirk. Rodriguez hesitated but then flopped down in his seat. “Now that that’s done, did you know those men were running a scam behind your back?” Surprise lit Rodriguez’s features. “Did you know someone hired them to funnel fake bills in my club?”
Hell no, he didn’t know.
It was just as they had thought. He didn’t know anything about what his men were doing, but Paolo would be surprised if he admitted it. It made Rodriguez look like he didn’t have control over his people. Paolo’s eyes connected with Gino and Dante. The two of them returned to their places but still left their guns drawn.
“Of course, I knew,” Rodriguez lied. “No one does anything a mis espaldas.” Behind my back.
Paolo drew his knife and threw it across the desk, embedding it into Rodriguez’s shoulder. It was so fast, the man never saw it coming or had a chance to move. Again, Rodriguez’s men were quick to move, but once Gino put a bullet in the man closest to Paolo, the other raised his arms in surrender.
“Now, are you sure you want to stick with the same story?” Paolo stood and made his way to the front of his desk, resting on the corner. “Because it will be considered an act of war, and that’s a war you won’t win.”
“Ahhh,” he groaned. “I didn’t know. I don’t know who hired them either. They did it behind my back,” he admitted, recanting his previous statement.
Paolo pulled his knife from Rodriguez’s shoulder. The man yelped and tried to staunch the bleeding with his hand.
“Go get him something,” Paolo ordered Gino, then addressed the man bleeding on his carpet while Gino left the room. “No need for you to worry about that. Your men were very forthcoming once they realized it would cost them their lives not to tell me. Too bad they were stupid enough to take the person up on their offer.”
“I didn’t know,” Rodriguez moaned.
“I believe you,” Paolo crooned. “So, what are we going to do with you?” Paolo loomed over the disgraced gang leader. “You demand to see me with some fucking half-truths! Like you run shit? This is my goddamn city, get that through your fucking head! Dante, get these motherfuckers out of here.”
Before Dante moved, Gino burst through the office door, his tanned face ashen and breathing labored like he’d been running.
“Cugino!” he yelled. Paolo’s gaze jerked to his cousin.
“What is it?”
“It’s Lyric,” Gino swallowed, trying to calm himself.
“What about Lyric?” Paolo asked. “Gino, spit it the fuck out!”
“We can’t find her.”
“What the hell do you mean you can’t find her?” Paolo stalked toward his cousin, grabbing him by the lapels of his expensive suit and jerking him forward.
“Just what the fuck I said, Paolo!” Gino yelled. “Now, let the fuck go of me!”
“Where the fuck was Franco?” Paolo dropped his hands, fists clenched at his sides. “How the hell could she be gone?”
