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Don’t get cocky. It doesn’t mean they can’t be dangerous because of their stupidity.I swallowed hard, acknowledging the sage advice. I latched onto the so-called leader of this rabble, the console controller in his hands. “Hi, Frankie, how’s it going?”
“Talia.” The pasty thug raised a brow and wheezed a harsh laugh. “Girl, you’re dumber than I thought. Just up and waltz in here, doin’ what exactly?”
The music made it hard to focus, and the poor lighting was already giving me a headache, but I managed to answer pleasantly enough. “Where’s Claude?”
“Why would I tell you that?” Frankie responded dryly. He could use some sunlight. His pale skin was nearly jaundice yellow.
“Because he’s in deep shit.” I put my hands on my hips. “Do you know what he’s done?”
“Killed the sister of one of the shipping sharks?” Frankie’s voice dropped to a sneer. “The Greek can rage all he wants, but he has no street cred.”
“Right, but my idiot brother doesn’t have my father’s blessing,” I ground out. “This needs to be smoothed over within our family. I need to talk to Claude or else he’s never going to survive this mess.”
Something shifted in Frankie’s muddy eyes. “Yo, Andre, where’s my phone?”
Was he actually going to call my brother? I couldn’t believe it. A silent laugh bubbled up my throat as I watched the expensive cellular device change hands. The thug believed me.
Frankie dialed a number, then waited for the connection. “Yo, bro, I got some news for you. Your sister’s here.” Frankie looked me up and down, not disguising the horny spark in his beady eyes. With dark hair and hazel eyes, he could have been of Italian descent, but he played a lot of games instead of being out in the sun during the day. The nocturnal nature of these punks was obvious.
A dark thought sprouted in my mind. It would take work to convince my brother to come here. I glanced outside and swallowed. The thugs were swarming my car. Clearly, they didn’t fear the Russian that much.
“She says yourdaddyisn’t pleased with what you’ve done. She’s here to help you.” Whatever my brother said, Frankie snapped his gaze up at me. “Okay, okay! We’ll keep her here.”
The wannabe gangster boss ended the call.
“Well?” I bit out.
“Your brother’s on his way.” Frankie grinned. “You aren’t going to like what happens.”
“I know I won’t,” I lamented, secretly thrilled when the punks grabbed me at Frankie’s signal. My side protested, but I breathed through the sharp stabs of pain as they hustled me through the living room. “Where are you taking me?”
“Spare room upstairs.” Frankie pushed a button on his control to go back to the main menu. “Too bad he said not to touch you. We have time to kill, my sword’s ready for battle, and you look like you’re ready for slaughter.”
Smooth, bro. I inwardly rolled my eyes at the line and turned with my escort.
“I’m perfectly capable of walking up the stairs without help,” I hissed at the pale punk and another soldier who were about to force me up the stairs.
Frankie jerked his chin. “Don’t touch her. Claude will be pissed.”
Relief surged through me, and I mentally caressed my ribs to reassure them it would be okay. As I trailed up the worn steps, I couldn’t help the spark of surprise in my mind. These thugs not only respected my doofus of a brother but they also feared him. Had he become a tiny little king of this ghetto street? Did these idiots think they could rule my father’s underworld kingdom? I almost laughed. My father made a grave mistake when he pushed Claude to become the heir. In less than an hour, I would take out a prime piece on the game board and his evil empire would crumble. I had to. It was either that or be killed. And I wasn’t done playing, not by a long shot.
