I found him in the corner, drinking with two men. All three of them were round-bellied from years of overindulgence. Their gold-plated teeth flashed as they laughed. Vultures.
“Gentlemen,” I smiled, pulling out a chair at their table and taking a seat without an invitation. They all glanced at me as if I were insane, which, of course, I was. “I’m looking for Bruno Silvestri.”
This man had been almost impossible to find. He’d changed his name more times than his underwear and gone completely off the grid since Alessio and Finn had taken control of Sicily’s underground. It may have taken me years, but I knew my best tracker would find him eventually.
“Who’s asking?”
I dropped the leather bag I was carrying at his feet and unzipped it slightly to reveal the thousands of euros stacked inside. “Someone who needs ultimate discretion.”
“And what makes you think I can help you with that?” he asked calmly, but he couldn’t hide his temptation.
“You used to go by the name Ettore Grimaldi.”
His eyes narrowed, and he looked away. “Never heard of that name, Pretty Boy.”
I tsked, leaning back in my chair. “Shame. I’ll have to take my business elsewhere.” I reached for my bag and stood up, ready to leave. His greedy eyes glittered as he peered over his shoulder.
“Sit down.” He nodded to the other two men at the table to fuck off before turning back to me.
I had to keep my face neutral as I gazed into his soulless eyes. I suppressed my fury, caging it like a beast. I’d waited so damn long to meet this piece of shit.
“Don’t go flinging that name around so openly unless you want to end up with a bullet in your skull. What business are you looking for exactly?”
“I’m looking to place a bet on apuledroin the next race. I heard Ettore was the man who could get me into the parade ring.”
He rubbed his thick, stubbled jaw as he studied me. Of course, we weren’t discussing horse racing. We were talking about underground illegal fighting, but not with grown men. With boys. Some as young as eight.
“We can’t talk about this here. Come with me.”
I followed him to the back of the bar and into a dingy cellar filled with barrels and beer. He leaned against one and lit a cigar.
“How did you find me? No one has known me as Ettore for nearly ten years.”
“You knew my father, Francesco Aiani. You did business with him in the past. He always said that you found the best boys for fights.”
“Aiani?” he scoffed, shaking his head. “I remember that fat fucker.” He looked me up and down appreciatively. “You haveyour mother’s looks. I’m retired, though. I don’t do business in the underground anymore, but seeing as Francesco was an old friend, I’ll give you the name of someone who does.” He took another slow drag, puffing smoke in my face. “But it will cost you.”
I threw my bag of money on top of a crate and opened it, grabbing two thousand from the pile and shoving it into his chest.
“Vito Neryal. Tell him Grim sent you. He has four boys; two of them are fighting tomorrow, so bet on Nix. He’s the dark horse. Scrappy. He’ll win you millions.”
“Grazie.” I turned away from him, only to stop at the door. Taking out another two thousand, I held the bundles of cash in my hand and tilted my head. “Your boys… they didn’t just fight for you, no?”
His dark eyes flashed with malice as he smirked. Rage bubbled inside me when I saw the sick memories running through his mind. “They’d do anything you wanted them to if the price was right. Vito isn’t your man for that. But I can get you what you’re looking for. One thousand for an hour. Five thousand for the night.”
And there it was—the sick truth lurking beneath the facade. I grabbed another three thousand and slammed the money onto the barrel. He grinned, showing gold-plated canines.
“Meet me out back in one hour. I’ll have a boy for you.” He held out his hand, and I shook it, feeling my skin crawl with the urge to pull out my gun and shove it down his throat. But unlike the others, I wouldn’t kill this one. There was someone who needed it more.
I walked back outside and got into the car, telling my men to drive for an hour until it was time to pull up in the dark, abandoned car park behind the bar. An hour on the dot, the back door swung open and Ettore shoved a young boy, who couldn’thave been older than fourteen, towards us. I noticed the boy’s nose was bleeding, and his hands were tied behind his back with cable ties. Clearly, he’d put up a fight.
“Be good and please this gentleman, or I’ll see to it that Rozzy sleeps in my bed tonight,” Ettore hissed through his teeth into the boy’s ear. The boy reluctantly stepped forward as I opened my car door for him. He climbed in, and I slammed the door shut, nodding at the scumbag before walking around to the other side.
“I’ll bring him back in three hours.”
“Enjoy,” Ettore shouted before heading back inside.
The moment the car began pulling away, I grabbed the boy’s arms, pulled out my knife, and cut him free. He rubbed his wrists, glaring at me but clearly retreating into a darker part of his mind so he wouldn’t have to face what he thought I was about to do.
