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Danny swallows hard as his gaze bounces between Gunn and me, at the bulges our weapons create beneath our jackets, then at the front door.
“Are you expecting someone?” I ask.
“N-no.” He wipes his palm over his face. “I don’t have the money right now.”
“You had the money to go to Aruba for two weeks,” Gunn mentions casually as he sets his food down and tugs his firearm from his holster. He places it on the table, his finger twitching on the trigger. “From what I hear, you rented a yacht.”
Danny’s eyes bulge as he focuses on the gun. “Hey, hey, that was a gift from a client.” He clears his throat, then without looking away from the weapon, says, “Listen, Luca. Your brother and I… We had an arrangement. I always got a few days. He got a little extra for his patience. The boss was good like that.”
His attempt at a placating smile would be laughable were I any other man.
Perhaps if I hadn’t just been betrayed by the Di Persias, or maybe if I wasn’t still so fucking sexually frustrated because of that woman in my bed, I would laugh. Who the fuck knows. Maybe I would give him a couple of hours.
As it is, it just pisses me off.
In an instant, I’m on my feet. I fist a chunk of his graying hair and pull it back as hard as I can while I produce my knife from my boot and press it to his throat. “In case you haven’t heard, Tony is dead. I’m the fucking boss now, and I’m not good like that. You knew the rules when you started. They haven’t changed. And stop looking at the fucking door!” I demand when he does it yet again. “Dominic isn’t coming to your rescue, bitch.”
Now he does look at me. “What did you do to him?”
“I reminded him of who I am.” I leer at him, enjoying the way his expression fills with fear.
“You killed him?” He’s panting now, probably imagining that if I killed his partner, the same fate awaits him.
“Nope. He’s out there, waiting.”
“What?”
“Who do you think let us in at this hour?” My lips tug in a deep grin. “I showed him how much money you really make. Turns out, you owe him too. So what’s it going to be? Will you pay in cash? Or in blood?”
As I say the last part, I slide the blade over the thin skin of his neck, not hard enough to kill him, but enough that he’ll know I can. Crimson drips in small rivulets, rolling down to pool at his clavicle.
Tears fill his eyes, and I can tell the wheels in his head are spinning as he wonders how he can get out of this.
He can’t.
“I have it,” he finally concedes. “I have it.”
Ten minutes later, Gunn and I are walking through the door with a bag full of cash.
“Nice doing business with you, Danny,” I say over my shoulder.
“He paid?” Dominic, his partner in crime, asks when the door shuts behind us.
He’s standing alongside my other men with his hands clasped behind his back, his jaw working tensely.
“He did.” From the bag, I pull ten grand and give it to him, then hand the rest to my boys.
Taking his share, Dominic tucks it into his pocket and says, “I’m owed more than that.”
“That’s between you and Danny.”
“Damned right it is.” He begins to move toward the door, but before he goes inside, he turns to us. “You won’t have any more issues here, boss. I’ll personally guarantee that.”
I raise a brow at the hidden meaning and nod. “I’ll see you next month.”
He goes inside then, and as we walk away, a single shot rings through the air.
Gunn and I look at each other.
