“What the fuck do you need with two million large?” Marco’s brow drew into a deep frown above his stormy eyes. Though he didn’t wait for the answer. He just headed to the locker. Fiddling through his pocket, he found the key and unlocked the safe.
The two men took a cool two million and Bruno was on his way.
Bruno De Luca drove out to a bar on the outskirts of town. Whilst technically in San Diego, the bar was situated in a gritty industrial zone on the edge of north Tijuana, were shootings remained frequent. People slid out of the way as Bruno marched down the pavement and stalked hastily through the doors of the bar. Some people hated the smell of exhaust fumes or hospitals, Bruno hated the smell of dive bars. They all smelled the same: cigarette smoke, urine, sweat, and dust.
The atmosphere of the place had a severe sense of foreboding and the grey light which fell down through the windows blurred the faces in the room. Imitation wood from floor to ceiling, the dull walls and sagging furniture seemed not to have changed in the past twenty years. Most of the lunchtime crowd had drifted out. Bruno nodded to the barman as he passed the bar. Not taking any chances, he’d arranged a sit down with Leonardo Felipe, at a dive bar owned by the man himself. Miraculously, he agreed.
Bruno had a golden moment in which he believed he would show the Mexicans who really owned this town. He had a strong sense that Castillo’s fate hung on whether or not the Mexicans would play into his hands. After officially becoming a made man a few months back, Bruno had sat in on a number of sit-downs with rival mobsters.
This wasn’t his first rodeo.
He assumed this would be kick-ass easy.
He assumed wrong.
The bartender nodded as Bruno walked to the rear. Two bodyguards, stripped to their shirtsleeves, were shooting pool at the table in front. One of them stopped as Bruno walked past. He said nothing, a permanent frown dragged at the corners of his mouth.
Bruno joined Leonardo in a large booth around the back.
The Mexican gave a singular nod of his head for the man to sit. Hair steely grey wool, eyes grey too, his face deeply lined. Leonardo eyed him suspiciously. “What’s this about?” he asked as he leaned forward
Bruno maintained his tense, defensive posture as he replied, “I hear you’ve been spreading some nasty rumors to the cops about my boss.”
“Listen, kid, you got ball’s I’ll give you that. But you could offer me ten mill, cash on the spot and I wouldn’t take it. I don’t want your money, I want revenge.” He taunted, licking his lips before placing the rim of his tequila glass to his mouth, an arrogant smile plastered on his face.
“Fuck your revenge,” Bruno sneered.
Leonardo’s smile faded. “That’s enough! This ain’t protocol. Where’s your boss? I’m sure he wouldn’t be too happy to hear you’re playing outside of the mobs’ bylaws.”
Bruno’s jaw locked. “And fuck protocol too!” Jumping angrily to his feet, Bruno lunged across the table, nostrils flaring, showing his fangs like a dragon. Grabbing the man’s blazer jacket, he tugged him closer. So close the other man wafted his hot acidic breath into Bruno’s face.
The jackass then smiled from ear to fucking ear. “I’m telling you, you disrespected me in a sit-down and I say count your blessings that I’m letting you walk out of here alive.”
No bitch.Bruno slammed his hand on the table, spilling Leonardo’s Tequila. “Count my fucking blessings, my ass. It’s your fucking grave you’re dancing on! I came here to offer you two fucking million to take the heat off of the boss, and I’m supposed to be fucking grateful?”
Leonardo stood up suddenly. “Not gonna happen.” Snapping his fingers a couple of times, his bodyguards looked up, and he edged slowly out of the booth. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got work to do. See you in court.”
Bruno gave him a killer stare.
He turned and walked toward the exit, a bodyguard at either arm.
“See you in court my ass. Fuck no! Take your two million and get your ass back to Mexico. If you don’t, I’ll make your life so miserable, you’ll be begging for me to end it.”
Leonardo kept walking and started to laugh.
Bruno’s eyes popped with shock and surprise. What kind of man walks away from two fucking million dollars? He growled and stood to his full six foot six height. “Understand what I am telling you!” he yelled.
“N,fucking,O… De Luca,” Leonardo called back at him.
Bruno turned around at last, and the face he looked into was the only person left in the bar. The server who’d appeared behind the bar met his gaze with wide, fearful eyes and said with a smoker’s rasp, “God help you, young man.’
Bruno scowled.Well, they have been warned.
Chapter Eight
Totally off the rails…
“Hold out your wrists, please.”
