Wasted (Dirty Boys of Chicago #1) (8 page)

I
stood
under a streetlamp next to the warehouse that we had set up the meet at. It was just me and my car and Dante in the pool of light. Everything else around us was pitch black. I could see a red exit light glowing from the warehouse next to us, but I didn't even see them approach. I only heard their car. I checked that my knife was latched securely at my hip, hidden by my dress shirt, and got out of the car. As soon as the mark shut his door, I put my arms at my sides. They needed to be ready. Dante was going to make quick work of the other guy. A shot to the head. It would be quick, painless. There wouldn't even be blood on his hands. But not me. I needed information. I needed to know which of Armani’s buyers had been working with him. Because they would all need reminders of who was the real boss. They needed to stay with the right side of the business. I still couldn't believe my father had gotten into some work with arms dealers. It was always such a messy business. Money-laundering was simple, and there was hardly anybody working on it. Just a lot of money. And that's how I liked to live my life: simply. But I understood that occasionally you had to get a little dirty for work.

A man walked into the light with the security guy standing to the left of him. Dante had his hands behind his back. I stood in front.

“I hear you are interested in some of my business. Shall we go inside the warehouse?”

I nodded. “I'd like to see the merchandise before I make any guarantees.”

He was in a dark suit. Green bowtie. What the hell was with the bowtie? He wasn’t a man, he was just a kid. He was at least five years younger than me. I doubted if he could even legally drink yet. Jesus, this was going to be a mess.

I followed him into the warehouse. There were crates on either side of us. A steel table sat in the middle of an open space. Another thug stood by it. Anger raced under my skin. “I thought we made it clear, this is only a two-man deal.”

“Oh, him? He’s nobody. The security around the clock. I have to protect my investments.” He waved the guy off. I watched as he stood by the door, just out of reach. That was going to make this more difficult.

Dante walked across the warehouse and looked for other guards. We were already outnumbered, anymore and we’d be outgunned too.

“Let's see this. I don't have all night.”

The kid smiled devilishly. “Something hot waiting for you at home?”

I flinched at the comment. “It's none of your damn business. Now let's get this done.”

“Got AK-47s and a few grenades here. That's mostly what I sell. Not sure what the Mexicans told you, but some of the bigger artillery didn't come for me. It’s too difficult to get over the border.”

“Fine, fine. Got any other references? I like to know what other people thought. Make sure they had a good experience.”

“You know I can’t tell you that. The seller never gives away his vendors and buyers. Makes him seem like he's easily turned.”

I nodded. I knew getting his list of buyers wouldn’t be that simple.

“I can have more buyers by the end of this week. So I need to know how much you are interested in.”

I pulled out my wallet and dropped a couple grand in hundreds on the table. “I'm interested. There's a lot more where that came from.”

The money didn't make his eyes go big, so he was obviously selling to some big fish. That, or he had one hell of a poker face. That made me nervous. That meant that Armani wasn't selling his guns cheap enough for his buyers to stay with him. So even when I ended this little punk, the buyers would go look for someone else. And that wasn't good for my father's business, because then he couldn't keep his word to his friends. I also wasn't in the mood to be killing some little shits every day the week. That would be an easy way to land myself back in prison.

“So what do you know about Armani and his people? I heard they’re in the same business.”

“I've heard of him. We’re not on the same level. He sells handguns, nothing like what I have. We are hardly in the same business.”

“Really? That's not what I heard.”

“Listen man, I don't have all night. Are you buying or not?”

“I'm buying all right.” I watched out of the corner of my eye as the guy next to the door crumpled and fell to the ground. Dante must've brought a silencer with him. The seller looked over his shoulder and noticed immediately what was up. He pulled his own weapon and so did the muscle he had with him. But I didn’t even move a muscle. I didn’t need to. Dante was too quick for them. He shot the security guy and I watched as the huge man fell to the ground. He wasn't dead. He was bleeding from the shoulder and grabbing it with his other hand. There was blood spray on the floor; the bullet had gone straight through. Dante walked up behind the seller with his gun outstretched. “Drop it.”

The seller rolled his eyes but he did as he was told. He put the gun on the table and put his hands up. I grabbed a chair from the other side of the warehouse and sat him down in it.

“Now that it’s finally just us, tell me about how much of our business you stole.”

He made a face of disgust. “I'm not a thief! If they came to me, it was because my product and prices were better.”

“That's not what matters to us.”

“Us? And who the hell is us?”

I didn't like the way he was speaking to me. I balled up my fist and pulled it back. “Us is the Santini family.” I landed my right hook across the left side of his face. When my fist connected, there was an audible crack, and his head snapped to the right. He let out a groan and turned back to face me as he spat blood out on the floor.

“And I'm going to make sure you don't fucking forget it.”

I landed another right hook to his face, and this time, he spat out a couple teeth. I pulled the knife out and I dragged it across his left arm, leaving a nice slash with blood trickling down onto the cement floor. There would be more there shortly.

“Now you tell me who your buyers are, or I'm going to kill you.”

“You're going to kill me anyway. I'm not stupid.”

“No, I don't think you are. So tell me what you know. Our sellers got a little black book, where's yours?”

He shook his head. “You really think I'm the head of this operation? You're wrong. I'm just a distributor. You want to know who's really going up against Armani? Ask Armani himself.”

I gave him a sucker punch to the stomach. It felt good to get my hands on somebody again. To make them bleed.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“He's playing you,” he said through labored breaths.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“When the son’s away, the old man will play. Your old man needs to watch out. There's a new family in town. And they're coming for him.”

I looked over my shoulder at Dante. He was still standing over the man who he had shot. The guy was still yelling about his shoulder. It was starting to piss me off.

“Dante, get over here.”

He obliged and walked over quickly. “What's up?”

“This asshole said that somebody is coming after my family. You know anything about that?”

Dante shrugged. “No. Everybody knows that the Santinis are the most powerful family in town. No one would even try to take down your Pops.”

I looked back at the little shit who had his head hanging down, trying to catch his breath. “Hear that?” He didn't look up at me. I grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled his head up to my face. “I said, did you hear that? Nobody is messing with my family. So you better talk, before I switch to your other arm and make you bleed out here.”

“The Irish,” he spat. “They say that your family has taken over their parts of the city and they have had enough. They're the ones running the guns. I work for them.”

The Irish? We never had an issue with them before. Why now?

It seemed since I went away for prison, shit had started to hit the fan. Between Farrah and the Salvatore family, and now the Irish, I couldn’t seem to catch a break. Maybe prison had been easier after all.

I shook my head as I walked away from him.

“What do you want to do with him?” Dante asked me.

“Nothing. Let him go back to the Irish and tell them what we know. He can be our messenger.”

I went to the table and took the guns and my money. I left the grenades; I never had a use for that much destruction. It wasn't calculated enough for my taste.

I walked out into the crisp air of the night and Dante looked afraid.

“What?” I asked him, angry with his fear.

“Your father gave direct orders. We were to kill these sons of bitches.”

I looked at him sternly. “That's when he thought he was the head of the beast. He is just the fucking tip of the iceberg. If Irish are behind this, then it's up to me and my father to find out why.” I shoved the gun at his chest and walked over to my car. “Get in. I want to go home.”

My knuckles turned white as I gripped the steering wheel. It felt good to beat the shit out of that kid. But it was only a lead to more questions and more problems. That was not the way I liked to do business. I wanted this all to be over. I wanted to go home and screw Farrah’s brains out. Now there was even more work to do.

I
dropped
Dante off at the office.

“You coming in?”

I knew he didn't want to face my father alone, and I didn't blame him. We had specific instructions—kill the bastard that was stealing from our friend—but that was not how things worked out. I left him alive so that way, he could give a message to the Irish. Don't screw with the Santini family. And leave our friends and their business deals alone. I was pretty sure my message was clear. But I wasn't sure that was the way my father would see it. I disobeyed a direct order, I was going to have to pay the price.

“I’ll be in there in a minute. Get the guns out of the trunk. At least we got something out of this deal.”

I waited until Dante was out of sight and I dialed Farrah's number and waited for her answer. I just needed to hear her voice. I'd be up the rest of the night dealing with the consequences of my actions. Tomorrow, all that I wanted to do was lay in bed with her. I wanted to have a lot to repent for at Sunday's mass.

“Hello?” she asked groggily.

“It's me. How are you doing?”

“I was sleeping. What are you doing? I thought you had work tonight.”

“I did. Things didn't really go as planned.”

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” I could hear the fear in her voice. How could she be snitching on me when she sounded like that? She couldn’t be that good of an actress, could she?

“No, I'm fine, baby. It's just business. Business that I didn't want to have to deal with yet. I'd rather be at home with you. What are you wearing?”

She sighed. “Just a little something silky against my skin.”

“Describe it to me.”

I loved that she didn't even give it a second thought. “It's a light pink silk tank top with white lace accents. There's a white lace thong to match.”

“I'd like to see that.”

“You will. Whenever you drag your ass home. I'll be waiting.”

“Send me a picture. Something to tease me a bit.”

“Fine. I'll see you soon?”

“In the morning. I'll be there when you wake up, I promise.”

I ended the call and I waited for the picture. Just a few seconds later, an image of herself and her voluptuous breasts in the light pink tank arrived. The lace practically blended in with her porcelain skin. She was perfect. My cock grew hard underneath my pants. I quickly exited out of the message. Now wasn't the time. I had other shit to deal with.

I walked into the office and waved off some of the thugs that were standing near the door. “We need a minute in private.”

Dante hadn't even entered the office yet, the pussy. I brushed past him and grabbed one of the guns. “Merry Christmas!” I said as I walked in.

A crease formed between my father's eyebrows. “What the hell are you doing back so soon?”

I set the gun down on his desk. “We have a problem.”

He stood up and laid his fingers down as he leaned down on the desk. I knew that stance well. This was going to go about as well as I expected.

“What the hell is that?”

“I had to let the little shit live.”

He erupted. Just as I expected. His hands going a mile a minute and yelling at me in Italian, even though I barely spoke it. I gave him a full five minutes to unleash before he finally calmed down. He took a breath and I took the opportunity to interject.

“Don't you want to know why? Because there's a reason.”

He turned his head back to me and crossed his arms. “And what is that?”

“Because he's not the head of the beast. It's the Irish trying to gang up on us.”

He turned around, his arms remaining crossed. “The McLarens? What the hell do they want with guns?”

“No idea. But this kid is claiming that they’ve been doing it for years. They’re a bit tired of you.”

“Tired of me? I’ve hardly ever had trouble with the Irish. They stay on their side of town and we stay on ours. Except for St. Patrick’s Day, when they dye the river green. Hooray for them. It's not like Chicago honors us.”

“Pops, that's not what this is about. This is about you encroaching on their territory. And the fact that I've been away. They thought they could make a move.”

“Why?”

“I've no idea. Are you sure this Armani guy is as clean as he says? The kid claimed that he only sold handguns and that he had totally different buyers.”

He shook his head. “That doesn't matter now.”

“Yes it does. It establishes if the kid was telling the truth. We need to know if Armani is a problem. Trying to start a blood war between us and the Irish. He had to have known that they were already after us. If I killed that shit, we would be in even bigger trouble with them. And you know they outnumber us.” Those Irish had always gone and fucked like rabbits. Their good Catholic ways made a lot more kids than we ever had. If it came down to war, we would lose. Pops had to realize that.

“Fine, I'll speak to him. I'll handle it. Like I always do.”

That pissed me off. I just had to beat up some kid because of Armani's business. I didn't like to get involved in other people's business to begin with, and now I was feeling like I'd been set up. “I got information that you didn't have before. So even though my job wasn't totally finished, it was enough. He'll send a message to the Irish for us, and they'll stay away from Armani's buyers. So if Armani is clean, which I doubt, at least this feud is settled for now.”

My father shook his head. He looked older than I remembered. Wrinkled lines creased around his dark blue eyes. He was aging, fast. Maybe that was why he had put so much trust in Dante while I was away: he needed a second. Someone to help him run things. I hadn't been there for him. I felt like a failure.

“You're right, my son. You did get new information. I don't like that the Irish are dealing guns. That's never been their business. They're just like us, all those pubs downtown, just funds for the money-laundering businesses. They build all of them with their own construction companies. They’re building some high-rise out east and making millions! Here we are just trying to run a strip club, doing some construction here and there, when we should have gotten into the olive oil trade.”

“I don't want any part of that, Dad. We discussed it. Nobody is hurt when it's just money, that's the way I like to keep it.”

He sighed heavily. “Fine, fine. Dante, what did you do during this little conversation?”

Dante moved out from behind me. “I shot two guys. One is dead, the other’s injured.”

“They Irish?”

We shook our heads. “Don't know. Neither of them spoke.”

“This kid, he look Irish? No accent then?”

“No, definitely not Irish. He was Latino.”

“Well, that would make sense if they’re working with the Mexicans then. You know what? I don't care what the Irish want. As long as they don't mess with our business. And they can have the damn Mexicans, no real sense in them anyway.”

“So you trust Armani? He has his stories straight?”

“Yes, yes. I'm telling you, I'm not going to find anything. Armani is clean.”

I wanted to believe that, but I had the sinking suspicion he wasn't.

“I’m staying here tonight. I want to know first what you find out from Armani.”

I slept at the office. I wanted to make sure there wasn't any retaliation from the Irish, but I also wanted first information on Armani. The Irish were usually pretty swift. By the next morning, we hadn't heard anything. Pops set a time to meet with Armani and go over what happened. I was just hoping he would be able to sniff out the rat if there was one.

I drove home exhausted; sleeping on the couch didn't really give me the best night’s sleep. After dealing with the Irish last night, I now needed to deal with my own shit. I needed to know what was going on with Farrah. With the whole Salvatore clan. Was she setting me up?

I looked at my phone, at her last message. The lingerie was still fresh in my mind and I realized there was nothing I wanted to do more than to put my face between her legs. Listening to her moan and scream out my name. I fucking loved the way she screamed my name. It just made it so I never wanted to stop.

Farrah was like my drug, and I was hooked so bad that I felt like a junkie. I wouldn't give her up for anything.

I needed answers, but they’d have to wait. Until after I fucked her brains out.

I took the stairs two at a time. As soon as I was in the apartment, I tossed off my jacket and removed my tie. I walked into the bedroom to find her still sleeping. Her round ass was just peeking out from beneath the covers, and she was still in the sexy number that she had sent me some pictures of the night before. Her dark hair fell onto the white sheets. As I took off my shoes, she stirred.