Deep(12)
They had parked near the building. Nick scanned the area. A primer-grey van was parked on the lawn behind the house; he could just see the back end. It looked as though it might have been there for a long time.
“They’re set up already?”
Seeing the van, Brian nodded. “Looks that way, boss.” Nick didn’t like hearing Brian call him ‘boss.’ From anyone else, he’d expect it, but he and Brian went far back, to second grade at Christ the King School. Still, he was the boss, and Brian was only a soldier.
“Okay. Let’s see what J.J.’s got.”
In the middle of what was left of the living room, a short, morbidly obese man was tied to a metal folding chair. First mistake. Folding chairs folded, and bindings gave more easily.
He was naked—that was good. A naked man was easier to intimidate, easier to hurt, and less likely to flee if the opportunity presented itself. Shame was a powerful inhibitor.
He was gagged with a rag tied around his face—rookie move. As evidenced by the wordless ruckus the guy was making, a gag like that made a man only incomprehensible, not truly quiet. And this was supposed to be an interrogation. They needed him to talk. There were other ways than gags to keep a man quiet.
He was sweating profusely but not bruised or bleeding, so J.J. had waited for him. Good. This would be his hands-on training—for him and his crew. Nick set aside his frustration at his uncle for the mistake of making J.J., thirty-five years old and only five years made, a capo, especially to replace him.
That new capo was staring steadily at him now, and Nick knew he was working hard to keep his face clear of the expression that suited the emotion rolling off him in waves—anger. He didn’t like being checked up on, and in front of his boys. But this was the first interrogation connected to business outside of the Church fight, and so the first one with J.J. on point.
“Tell me, J.J.”
“Boss. I just need to put some hurt on this fucker. I got it.”
“Tell me.”
J.J. sighed, walking the line between paying respect and taking a beating. “Got a guy buying up our notes. Paying off early, killing the vig. Can’t get a name, but this guy is one of his bagmen.” The bound man shook his head emphatically. Around the gag, he shouted “No!” J.J. stepped over and clocked him with the butt of his gun.
And now the guy was unconscious. Unconscious men did not give up intel. Nick swiped a hand over his face. Fuck, he hoped J.J. wouldn’t go down as his uncle’s greatest mistake.
Making high-interest loans was one of the Pagano Brothers most lucrative enterprises. Somebody coming in and paying off debt on a wide scale could cripple them financially. And it made no fucking sense. “Why the fuck am I just hearing about this now?”
“Shylocks just started reporting it a week ago. We didn’t know what was going on until we caught this guy coming out of Tanner’s last night.”
“We?”
“My da—Julie and Dom are seeing it, too.”
“And nobody said shit to me or the don.”
J.J. swallowed, finally seeing how deep and hot was the water he stood in. “Like I said, boss, it’s only been a couple days we understood the scope. We wanted to have good intel. That’s why we have this guy.”
“You think a bagman’s going to know who’s holding the strings? J.J., what the fuck? And you’re three blocks from his turf. It’s like you’re trying to fuck this up.”
J.J.’s face went red—with rage, not with shame. Over long years of this kind of work, Nick had learned there was a difference in the way blood suffused the face, depending on the emotion that impelled it. Regardless of the color of skin over it, the color of red was different. Rage had a blue undertone. Shame was more orange. Pain had a grey cast. J.J. was furious—and impotent, which was a dangerous combination. Nick had pushed too hard.
He backed off. “Okay. Make what you can of him, then. Use him to hone your skill. Maybe he’s got something good after all. Something that will get you to your guy.”
“You gonna let me handle it?” It was a demand J.J. made, a dare. Not a request.
Nick met it without a word, his eyes locked on J.J.’s. After a couple of seconds, J.J. lost some of that bluish red tone and turned to the man tied to a chair.
When he walked away, Brian stepped to Nick’s side. “Can I speak plainly, boss?”
“You know you can, Bri. You don’t need to ask.”
Brian nodded his appreciation of that. They were friends before they were associates. “This is over these guys’ heads. He’s gonna kill this mook before he gets anything out of him. And I think this is bigger than they know.”