Soon after, everybody was dismissed.
Bruno went to the john and when he walked out, he expected to be alone. He spotted the boss at the bar. “You want some company?” he asked, making his way straight toward the broken man in the $3’000 suit.
“Why the hell not,” he replied deadpan, shrugging. Hunched over the bar, half-cocked elbows perched on the lip, Castillo refused to spare a glance Bruno’s way.
A silence stretched between them until Bruno finally found a few words to ask the man how he was holding up. Castillo met his eyes and Bruno was shocked to see his tears welling up. Bruno stiffened.
WHAT THE FUCK?
Wrapping his arms around Bruno, Castillo held him tight and began to cry. Minutes passed as they hugged in silence, the boss holding him like he never wanted to let go.
As the boss held him he became less and less comfortable. He idolized this man. He identified with him, respected him...a man who now clinging to him like a baby in times of trouble. Bruno had never felt so relieved that these walls around them hid them from the rest of the world.
“I’m hollow inside,” Castillo whispered.
“I’ll hunt the bastard down and kill him. I’ll exact your revenge in the ugliest way possible, make him suffer right to the end,” Bruno vowed softly. Hate was the only emotion that made any sense to Bruno. And it appeared to calm the boss.
Breaking his hold, Castillo stared at Bruno again. His face so twisted with emotion that Bruno couldn’t tell who he was.
Taking another shot of whiskey, the boss waited for his heartbeat to calm. He stood still, glaring at him. “De Luca, if I told you to shoot Antonio, would you shoot him?” he asked, with the nonchalance of opening a can of soda.
Bruno hesitated and then nodded. “Yes, I would,” he replied, sending the boss a blank stare as if he were completely unfazed. Quietly thanking heaven and hell that his olive Italian skin never betrayed the red cheeks of a man whose blood was boiling with rage.
Castillo narrowed his eyes. It was the look he got when he was reading somebody, feeling them out. Cupping Bruno’s chin, he tilted it so that he met his eyes and his voice lowered. “You sure about that?”
“Yep. No big deal.” Bruno gave him a singular nod. He sounded sincere, looked sincere. Yet, he was lying through his teeth. It was his duty to do as the boss asked, no matter what. If you didn’t, he’d make you regret it. There was no other choice but to lie. Even though he was sure Castillo knew damn well his answer was straight-up BS.
“Good,” he said as he grinned darkly, patting him on the shoulder and then turning his attention back to his drink. He found a lot of sadistic shit like this funny.
This was one of the things about Castillo that royally pissed Bruno off.
“You take another gun or two if you want to. The rest we’re going to unload up in Harlem, where we’ve got no enemies.”
Bruno nodded. “Thanks, boss.” Shifting in his seat, he glanced around the room and found himself staring at the empty leather armchair where Bobby had always sat. Then to the empty place at the coffee table where his best friend always sat, a man he loved like his own brother. Fuck that, and fuck him for suggesting such a thing. He’d rather take a bullet or a baseball bat than kill the man who was like his own flesh and blood.
There was a long silence between them and then Bruno finally asked reluctantly, “Was that an order?”
Castillo looked up from his drink, his eyes cold and assessing. “No, it wasn’t.” He didn’t explain any further.
Bruno heard the other man’s phone start buzzing.
So without another word, Castillo turned toward the door and left.
Bruno kept his eyes on Castillo as he walked outside and curled his lips cruelly over his teeth. What the fuck was all that about? Shaking his head, he took a swig of whiskey to wash away his thoughts and resolved to forgive the twisted fucking hypothetical question the boss had just posed, seeing as his only son’s ship had just departed for the gates of hell. Unable to control himself, he cupped his whiskey glass firmly in his hand and fired it behind the bar in a baseball style pitch. Closing his eyes, he savored the sound of it smashing into tiny pieces, then stormed the hell out of the place.
Chapter Five
Heads up
When Bruno pulled up outside the mob’s private social club the following morning, he sensed something wasn’t right. Castillo had put everything on hold for a few days while he sorted out the funeral arrangements for his boy. Which was just as well. What Bruno really needed was a drink. A strong fucking drink. He’d come here every night for the last six months, but never in the daytime. And he’d called his brother, Charlie in to meet him, Bruno counted himself lucky he could do that.
Strolling into the bar and over to his booth Bruno took a seat on the plush seat and nodded to the waitress to bring him over his usual.
“You let me know if there’s anything else you need,” the woman said, voice low with a husky edge that set his dick into a fury.
Bruno nodded, expression stern.
She smiled and then sauntered away.
