Page 221 of Don’t Say Mafia

I didn’t wait. I grabbed his left pinky, yanked it straight, and clamped the pliers around the nail bed. One clean, brutal twist, and the nail tore free with a wet rip. Blood welled instantly, and the captain screamed. I held up the bloody nail between us like a trophy, letting it drip onto his lap.

“The first one teaches you what it feels like,” I told him. “The rest just reinforce it.”

He was gasping now, sweat pouring down his face, mixing with the tears already streaming from his eyes. His body was shaking so violently that his chair was rattling.

Maddox leaned down, his voice almost kind. “You can stop this whenever you want.”

I wiped the pliers on the captain’s shirt, leaving a smear of red across the fabric. “Let’s try this once more. Who boarded the ship? How many? Who sent them?”

He shook his head frantically, snot and tears mixing on his upper lip. “I don’t— I swear I don’t⁠—”

I moved to the next finger, and this time I didn’t bother with the nail. I clamped the pliers around the joint and squeezed until I felt the bone give with a sickening pop. The scream that tore out of him was high-pitched, and I saw Lawson wince out of the corner of my eye. Blood trickled down the captain’s hand, dripping onto the concrete in steady plops.

I watched it pool for a moment, almost mesmerized.

“Three men,” the captain choked out. “Two from the dock crew . . . one I didn’t recognize. They came in on a blacked-out utility barge just after midnight. Someone had reached out to me last week about expecting it and where to be.”

I didn’t let go of his mangled finger at that news . . . I just twisted a little harder because it annoyed me that he’d betrayed us a week ago and I hadn’t found out.

He sobbed. “They took stuff from three containers—the ones marked for the Rossi shipment. They didn’t tell me why.”

Lawson perked up. “See? Progress.”

“Accents?” I asked.

The captain nodded eagerly. “Irish, maybe? One of them had a scar—across his cheek. They didn’t give names. Just cash.”

I released his hand, and it flopped uselessly against the armrest, blood smearing fresh streaks across the wood. “Good boy,” I murmured as I straightened, wiping my hands on the rag Lawson tossed me. The captain was shaking violently now, his face ashen, and his lips trembling so hard his teeth chattered.

“I told you everything,” he rasped. “I swear⁠—”

“I know,” I said. “That’s why this next part isn’t personal.”

His breathing grew even more frantic. “Then why?” he cried.

Maddox answered for me. “Because you still made the choice. And because choices like that need consequences that people can remember.”

Lawson shut his laptop and stood, stretching his shoulders as if he was clocking out of a long meeting. “Also,” he added mildly, “you’re now a liability. And we’re very particular about loose ends.”

The captain’s sobs continued. “Please,” he said. “I have kids.”

“So do a lot of men who don’t take bribes,” Maddox replied.

I stepped closer, meeting the captain’s gaze one last time. “You should’ve told us before we had to drag it out of you.”

The captain started begging in earnest, his words tumbling over one another, and more snot was bubbling from his nose as his tears streamed. I let him talk . . . I let the fear build until it filled every corner of him, and then I nodded to Maddox.

Maddox moved behind the chair and wrapped a thick plastic zip tie around the captain’s throat, letting him feel the cold bite of it against his skin. The captain’s eyes bulged, and he jerked and rocked the chair, strangled sounds escaping as Maddox pulled tighter. I watched the color drain and then surge back, his face darkening as veins rose along his forehead. His tongue pushed forward uselessly, and a thick, choking sound bubbled up from his throat.

Maddox kept pulling until the captain’s struggles slowed. His body jerked once more in a final, reflexive spasm, then went limp. The tie loosened abruptly, and he collapsed forward in the chair, his chin dropping to his chest and his eyes wide and unfocused as they fixed on nothing at all.

Silence settled in the warehouse again, broken only by the distant groan of cranes outside and the slap of water against the pilings beneath the dock doors.

Lawson exhaled slowly. “I assume you’re going to make sure this travels.”

I brushed nonexistent dust from my sleeve. “Naturally.”

Maddox already had the body halfway off the chair, one arm hooked under his shoulder like he was helping a drunk friend instead of handling a liability. Two of my men moved toward the open loading bay at the far end of the warehouse. Beyond the concrete lip, the water shifted black beneath the structure, and the tide rolled in and out.