“See?” Gary was saying, gesturing to Jimmy. “All wrapped up like a Christmas present.”
The shorter of the two suited men turned around and slapped Gary across his face, cursing at him in a long stream of Italian.
The taller man held out his hand, demanding, “Key.”
Gary rubbed his red cheek, sullenly reaching into his pocket and handing him a small key.
“My apologies, Mr. Poe,” the taller man said, crouching down to unlock Jimmy’s cuffs. “This is not the proper treatment for someone of your standing. I would have prevented it, had I known sooner.”
Jimmy jerked his hands away as soon as they were free, rubbing his aching wrists and backing himself into a corner. He stared the man down, wild and frantic, trying to keep his breathing in check.
“I’m Cristian Luchesi,” the man went on. “That’s my brother, Luigi. We’ve already contacted Boss Cold and made arrangements for your release. Again, my sincere apologies—”
“Fuck your apologies,” Jimmy spat. “You don’t just kidnap someone and beat the crap out of them and then get to apologize your way out of it!”
Luigi muttered something in Italian, and Cristian shook his head. He looked back to Jimmy, soothing, “There will be severe repercussions for Gary’s actions today. That I can assure you.”
“But I was trying—” Gary began.
Luigi screeched and slapped him again, growling fiercely, “Not another word! Not a one!”
“Luigi,” Cristian said calmly, “why don’t you go upstairs and wait for our guests?”
Luigi was obviously stung by the command, giving Gary one more nasty slap before stomping outside.
Gary cowered against the wall, cradling his face and falling silent.
Cristian pulled a chair over to Jimmy, gesturing for him to sit. “Please, make yourself comfortable.” He took a handkerchief from his pocket and offered it with a small smile. “Here.”
Jimmy didn’t take the chair, but he did stand up to snatch the handkerchief to dab at his nose. It was incredibly tender and all the blood was dry now, crusted around his nostrils. “Thank you.”
“Think nothing of it.” Cristian glanced down at Jimmy’s bare feet. “What happened to your shoes, Mr. Poe?”
“I was wearing flip-flops,” Jimmy mumbled. “I woke up here without them.”
“What size shoe do you wear, Mr. Poe?”
“Uh... like a twelve?”
“Gary?” Cristian turned his head. “Take off your shoes.”
“Cristian, come on,” Gary protested. “You can’t be serious.”
“Take off your shoes,” Cristian repeated icily.
Gary made a face, but he obeyed. He took off his shoes and walked over to Jimmy, offering them out with an angry scowl.
Jimmy flinched, backing away instinctively.
“That’s no way to treat our guest,” Cristian warned. “Kneel down. Help Mr. Poe.”
Gary’s cheeks flushed purple, but again he did as he was told. He kneeled in front of Jimmy, holding out the first shoe for him to put on.
Jimmy wanted to kick Gary square in the face, but his feet were cold and any shoe was better than nothing. Even if they were too warm and sweaty from their previous occupant, he held his head high and put them on. “Thanks.”
“My pleasure, Mr. Poe.” Cristian sat down in one of the other chairs, crossing his legs and folding his hands in his lap.
Barefoot and stewing, Gary retreated back against the wall.
