Page 17 of Captivated

It was practically impossible to blend in when someone was staring you right in the face. Or, that’s what Joe found, anyhow.

Joe sipped on his black coffee, and enjoyed the bitterness sliding down his throat. Behind his dark aviator sunglasses, the many people inside the bustling café had no idea that he watched them. He found human behavior fascinating sometimes.

There was a man watching an Anime show on his laptop two tables down. A couple at a booth by the window were arguing about something even though they tried to keep their faces a reflection of calm. The employees moved in sync with one another, leading Joe to believe they had worked together for quite a while and were quite comfortable in their routine. Despite the café being a bustle of constant activity, the place was still pretty quiet.

Joe kind of liked it here.

The ding of the entrance bell drew Joe’s attention to the front door. At the sight of the two men who came into the café, he straightened a bit in his chair. A man like him, in the business he dabbled with, could tell when someone was connected just by the way they entered a room. Their posture, even. Or perhaps the way they stopped to let their gaze take in their surroundings before choosing what to do next.

And even if none of that hadn’t been the first thing on Joe’s mind about the two newest patrons, he still knew who they were just from sight alone.

Johnathan and Andino Marcello.

Cousins that rarely ever seemed to be apart for very long, or at least, that’s what Joe had been told about the two. Marcello principes given both men had fathers who owned two of the highest seats in the Marcello Cosa Nostra.

Some might even call them mafia royalty. Joe didn’t know if he would. People considered him mafia royalty, too, but he wasn’t exactly very fucking fond of the title.

He killed people for a living.

He didn’t wear a fucking crown while he did it.

Over the years, Joe had run into the two Marcello cousins when they occasionally came to Chicago for business. The Marcellos were known for sending others to do their business for them when it came to organizations they didn’t particularly like, or had problems with.

The Marcellos had long since had problems with the Chicago Outfit. An incident from decades back that put a rift between the two, although some kind of peace had been made that allowed the two to do business.

John was likely a Capo now—who knew if Andino was, or if he was still working his way to that position. It was inevitable, though.

Andi—as Joe knew he preferred—would be a Capo eventually. Like his father had once been before moving up in la famiglia.

So was the way of their life.

Soon, the Marcello cousins found Joe sitting in the back, and came his way. They didn’t even bother to make an order before coming for business.

Perfetto.

“Joe,” John greeted as he neared the table.

“John,” Joe returned.

Neither man offered their hand, and Andino was the first to take a seat. John followed right after.

“How long has it been, man?” Andino asked.

Joe shrugged. “A year, maybe. Last time I saw you two—one of you was dragging the other one out of a club.”

John nodded appreciatively. “Truth.”

Andino chuckled. “Couldn’t have John causing trouble in Chicago.”

Yeah, Joe didn’t know very much about that, so he just moved on to the next topic at hand. The elephant in the room, so to speak.

“You called me here—what do you need or want?”

“It’s for you, actually,” John returned.

The older of the two men pulled a few items from the inside pocket of his blazer, and slid them across the table. A phone—a sleek, black burner by the looks of it. A hotel key with a tag that told Joe exactly which business he would be staying at, and a folded up piece of paper.

John tapped the phone first, saying, “Burner only. It’s safe—we have a hacker who will regularly monitor and scrub it when needed.”