The language didn’t one hundred percent mean that the Italians had dared defy us. The Sicilians had been an on again, off again problem. Specifically, Vitelli and Carmine Russo.
However, we’d learned through several acts of subterfuge not to rely on one definition of the enemy. After all, we employed men and women from various nationalities.
However, my gut was working overtime at this point.
“Who was your contact at the club?” I allowed his exclamation to go for now.
“I don’t have a contact. I drop liquor off at your warehouses.”
“Sorry, buddy. You’re not on the dossier. Were you recently hired?” Donatello asked the question.
The driver’s legs were shaking and he constantly checked where the knife was located. He managed to look at my second in command. It would seem his favored method of answering question was shrugging.
When Donatello stepped on the rung of the chair I was sitting on, leaning over and getting in the man’s face, the guy almost shit a brick. “I’m going to offer you a piece of advice. Answer the man’s questions. You might not be able to tell from the initial look about him, but the man is certifiably off his shit kicking rocker. I’m talking the dude cut out a man’s tongue for coughing within ten feet of him just last night. I felt sorry for the guy. I had no idea how he was going to enjoy his steak dinner after that.”
I shook my head. “I’m not that crazy.”
“Oh, yeah, you are. You’re about to cut a man’s testicles off. What are you going to do with them? Use them in your martini?”
“Not a bad idea,” I said as I scrubbed my face. “Since the day is young and we have five more men to interrogate outside, maybe I’ll fire up the grill tonight and have a few skewers.”
That was about all the encouragement I needed to offer my guest.
“I swear to God. I’m just a guy they hired to deliver the booze. Okay?” His entire body was shaking. “Honest. I don’t knowwhere the drugs are going. I was told to drop off the shipment and that’s it.”
When Zorro started growling, I shook my head. “In addition to my pup being an incredible drug dog, he knows when someone is lying. It’s an uncanny ability. You’re just a special little boy. Aren’t you, buddy?” I stroked behind his ear again before glancing at one of my men. “Hey, Marcus. Do me a favor and take the pup for a walk. Don’t go too far.”
“Sure thing, boss.”
“Be a good boy, Zorro.” I told him. The last thing I wanted to do was to allow him to see something so reprehensible. The pup deserved the steak I mentioned, not witnessing the murder of an asshole who was lying to me.
“I’m not lying. I swear to God!”
“God isn’t going to save you. Only I can do that. Give me a name. That’s all I need and you can keep the family jewels.”
Donatello knew better than to remain where he was. I was coming to the end of the interrogation. He knew all my tricks of the trade. That’s why we worked so well together.
To add encouragement, I drove the tip through his jeans far enough the jerk sucked in his breath and grew taller by several inches.
“Sergio!”
Sergio. Whoa. Hold the fuck on. This was the last thing I’d expected to hear. Sergio was the youngest Russo brother, the reason Carmine had bothered jumping into the family regime.
Donatello and I looked at each other, both trying to keep from laughing.
“Sergio Russo?” Donatello asked.
The man nodded at least six times.
Jesus Christ. My Capo’s hunch appeared correct.
CHAPTER 7
Jaxon
You could never trust anyone, including Cosa Nostra scum.
Although the Russos weren’t the Cosa Nostra in the traditional sense. They were the offspring of one of the Five Families in Sicily, people who controlled Europe much like the New York Five Families had during the days of the Gambino and Bonanno families.
