“BRUNO, OPENthe fuck up,” I yelled, banging my fist against the door.
A greasy Cuban, his unkempt black hair hanging over his dark eyes, swung the door open and aimed his Glock .45 between my eyes. “What the fuck you want?”
When I whipped my own piece from behind my back, Chantilly let out a gasp and I pushed her behind me. “The fuck I want isn’t you. Get Bruno. Now,” I said, pointedly flicking the safety on my gun.
“What is it, Sal?” a voice shouted from down the cavernous hall.
“Bruno!” I yelled. “Get the hell out here and tell me what the fuck is going on.”
His loafers made an annoying-as-hell clip-clopping sound as he came down the tile hallway toward me.
I wanted to vomit from all the beige-on-beige decor and ridiculous crystal chandeliers. Who did this asshole think he was? Everything about him screamed white-fucking-trash with new money. Lord knows he didn’t make it on the up-and-up.
“Well, if it isn’t Big Mike. And my little girl gone wild. Mags called, Chantilly. Told me you went AWOL.” His brown toupee slipped a tad as he glanced at his goon. “Put the piece down, Sal.”
Pushing his faux hair back into place, Bruno frowned at us. “I need to figure out why my little Chantilly disgraced a big client. By the way, you fucking this one now, Mike? You got a thing for call-girl pussy, my man? Gonna work your way through my entire stable?” Bruno stared me down the whole time, ignoring hislittle Chantilly’s new shiner.
No fucking way he was going to rattle me.
“You bastard,” I spat out.
I pointed my gun at the wall and fired, sending ugly beige drywall flying everywhere. Finally, the floor was mine.
“Only one girl for me, Bruno, and tonight I learned you sent her to the wolves. That’s right, fucker, your big client happened to mentionMiss Lincoln. Now you’re going to fucking spill.”
Taking a step forward, I stood tall, looming my own six-plus feet over his five-foot-eight frame to let him know who was boss.
Me.
Bruno narrowed his eyes on me. “That’s none of your business, Mike. My clients are my business, and your titty club is yours.”
Shooting out a hand, he grabbed Chantilly by the arm. She winced when he caught one of her fresh bruises, but he ignored her pain.
I stepped up, tapping my piece in my hand. “Let go of her, Bruno. I got a few more bullets in here, and Sal is looking like a great target right now.” When Sal brought his Glock up again, aiming his piece and his beady black eyes on me, I said, “Go ahead, Sally-boy, take me out. See if it makes a damn difference with your scum of a boss.”
“If you’re as smart as they say, Mikey, you’ll leave while you’re ahead. Now, I need to get a few things straight with my girl here,” Bruno said, dragging Chantilly down the hall.
“Stop!” she screamed. It was a blood-curdling, belly-deep scream that nearly made my ears bleed. Clawing at Bruno’s hand, she cried out, “You’re hurting me.”
Chantilly didn’t stop at that. No, she kept her foot on the gas, flooring it like she was in a drag race.
“Move back, Bruno! Let me tell you why you’re hurting me. I got bruises and scrapes from that prick Rahm getting rough with me after trying to slip me some roofie-shit. I told you this before—I don’t do drugs. I have a daughter who needs me!”
Bruno jerked his head back. “Shit, Chantilly. I didn’t know they roughed you up.”
With that, the idiot shredded the last of my patience. “Where the fuck you been the last five minutes? Who the hell do you think the shiner is from?”
He smirked at me. “You, tough guy. You little cocksucker.”
Sweat trickled down my back, and my track jacket felt like a straitjacket. I felt like I was about to come out of my skin, and if I didn’t get some answers soon, I was seriously going to start taking people out.
“You’re wrong about a few things,” I told him. “The shiner for one. That’s from your big client. Two, I don’t suck cock. And three, I’m not little, but I am tough. Now, do what the lady said and move the fuck back.”
Bruno released Chantilly and she returned to me, hooking her arm through mine.
“We’re gonna chat, Bruno, and you’re gonna tell me all you know about this Rahm and where Miss Lincoln is,” I said, inviting myself in and heading toward the sitting room with my gun at the ready.
I’D TOLDCarson we’d talk in the morning, but couldn’t wait when I finally got back from Bruno’s place. Against my better judgment, I dialed up my buddy at five o’clock in the morning East Coast time, waking him up and dragging him out of bed with his wife.
