“Busy, but don’t worry.” Mario glanced at the two nearest buildings. “Snipers still have eyes on this entrance and two more of our soldiers will be here soon. We caught some kid sniffin’ around the cars. Got him detained in the storage room and thought you two might want to be there when we question him.”
“Yes,” Michael and I both said, sounding entirely too enthusiastic about the interruption to our evening. My brother’s selection of a Caruso girl must have been going about as well as my time with Valentina.
We circled the building and Mario unlocked the back door, letting us in. We could still hear the music from the party in the front of the restaurant, but it was muted to a dull roar, which meant nobody up front would overhear our questioning. Good to know.
The storage room was about ten-feet by thirty-feet, and all four walls were lined with shelves full of supplies, leaving a small rectangle of empty space in the center. Currently crammed into that space were four soldiers surrounding a kid roped to a chair and gagged with a hand towel. The kid couldn’t have been more than sixteen or seventeen, his clothes were baggy, his legs and arms were scrawny, and he was sporting one hell of a shiner. As I drew near, I couldn’t help but notice his dilated pupils and runny nose.
“Has he said anything yet?” Michael asked as we squeezed into the small space with the others.
“Won’t shut up,” replied one of the soldiers. “Hopped up on coke and runnin’ his mouth, but not a damn word of it was useful. We had to gag him to get some peace.”
Michael nodded. “Go back to your assignments. We can handle it from here.”
All four soldiers filed out of the room, and Mario closed the door behind them. Michael approached the kid’s side, fisting his shaggy blond hair to pull his hair and force him to look up. The kid grunted around the gag.
“Do you know who I am?” Michael asked.
The kid shook his head.
Michael roughly tugged the kid’s head down to see me and Mario. “What about them? You know who they are?”
The kid shook his head again.
“Here’s what’s gonna happen,” Michael said, pulling the kid’s face back up to look at him. “I need you to focus. I’m gonna take this gag off and ask you some questions. You answer them truthfully, you walk out of here alive. You lie to me, I’m gonna break every bone in your body. Slowly. You get me?”
Eyes wide, the boy nodded.
Michael didn’t even bother untying the gag. He whipped out the switchblade strapped to his ankle, stared the boy down, and he sliced through the towel. The boy was trembling by the time Michael asked the first question.
“Who hired you?”
“N-n-nobody,” the kid stammered. “I was just lookin’ for a car to steal. I have this friend who wants a nice Lam and I saw one out there and thought I could nab it and make some money for my mom because she’s sick and—”
“Shhh,” Michael said, pressing the flat end of his switchblade to the boy’s lips. “I thought I told you to tell me the truth.”
“But that is the truth. As I was saying, my mom’s sick and she needs to get to the doctor, and we don’t got no money, so—”
Michael looked like he was about to bust a blood vessel. “Shut the fuck up before I shut you up permanently,” he growled.
The boy’s mouth snapped shut.
“I don’t have time for this shit.” Michael’s gaze swept the storage room, landing on some sort of meat mallet. “Hand me that, Dom,” he said, pointing at the object before folding up his switchblade and putting it away.
I picked up the tool and passed it to Michael.
“I need something to put his hand on.” Michael pointed to a step ladder in the corner. “There. Get me that.”
Mario retrieved the ladder, opening it beside the chair.
“Put your hand on it,” Michael ordered.
Face twisted, the boy looked up at me like I would help him.
“If you spread out your fingers wide, he might just crush one or two,” I said helpfully.
“You can’t… I don’t…” the kid stammered, looking from me to Michael.
“Oh, he can,” Mario replied. “And he will. I’ve seen him do it more times than I can count. If smashing bones was an Olympic sport, he’d have the gold.”
