“What’s going on there?” he asks.
“Fucking Tommaso Dresvanni thinks he’s a tough guy,” I explain. “Thinks fucking with me is a good idea. He’s been getting on my nerves.”
“You got some kinda situation with him?” Lucas asks, bouncing his shoulders a bit.
“Some kinda fucked up situation is what,” I say. “You know the Dresvanni are onto us. I think they sent Tommaso to ruffle my feathers, but he can’t do shit.”
Lucas laughs. “Not with you he can’t,” he agrees. “He say anything weird?”
“Weird how?” I ask with narrowed eyes.
“Something that we need to know,” he waves a hand. “They slip these things in there; you might not even realize it until afterward. Crafty sons of bitches.”
I blink and look toward the arena again to give myself a moment to think.
“You know what…he did say something about our guys. Think they might be onto the ones we got running around their little estate,” I explain with a tilt of my head. “Sure wouldn’t be good if they know who they are.”
“Fuck. No, it wouldn’t,” Lucas pulls out his phone. “We’d better pull them before they get iced.”
“Yeah, sounds like a good idea. Besides, we need to pull them before the big item anyway, right?” I ask him.
“Big item…oh yeah, you’re right,” he shakes one of my shoulders and I ignore the urge to punch him.
“Any more word on that?” I ask. “Where it’s going to be specifically? I want a front row seat, you know?”
Lucas chuckles. “Course you do.” He glances around. “Not a good place to talk about it. Don’t know who’s listening, yeah? We’ll talk later.”
He puts his phone to his ear and steps away from me, signaling that he’s calling one of the higher ups. Likely telling them that “we” need to get the moles out of the Dresvanni estate right away.
That was easier than I expected.
When I look at the arena again, they’re getting it hosed out and it looks like the smaller woman did, in fact, win. I wonder how much richer I’d be if I had put money on it…
“He’s fighting next,” I hear someone say.
“Who?” I ask curiously. Wondering who the next contender is going to be.
They give me a long look and motion over toward the entrance to the arena.
“A big one. Lotta money on this at the last minute,” they explain. “Tommaso Dresvanni.”
I nearly choke on my own spit.
There he is, standing at the entrance to the arena, stretching one of his arms in front of his body.
“Motherfucker,” I mumble.
My stomach tenses and I look into the bloody wet arena and imagine him in there fighting whoever’s next in line, and…suddenly, I’m a lot more interested in fighting.
“You think I can take him?” I ask, trying to get the crowd interested in the idea.
“No fucking way,” someone says clear as day.
I glare at them. “You have no idea what I can do.”
“Prove it, pansy,” he laughs at me.
If it weren’t for Tommaso being in the ring right now, I’d send my fist directly through this guy’s head. I’m not usually bigon fighting hand to hand…I’d rather be in the shadows with my gun.
