Take Me, Outlaw(63)

Marie bared her teeth and unleashed a string of profanity at me in Italian, lunging at me with her fingernails hooked like claws. For a moment, I wasn't sure which one looked more savage and frightening—her, or the tiger. Before she could take a proper swipe at me, Giovanni grabbed her wrists and spoke to her soothingly in Italian until she calmed down enough to lower her hands. Still, she was looking at me like she wanted to rip my face off.



Giovanni let go of Marie and turned, gesturing to the tiger. “I love these creatures. I often come here and watch them for hours, especially during their feeding times. They're on the endangered species list, these tigers. Before the twentieth century, there were over a hundred thousand of them running around in the world, and now there are only about three thousand left.”



“You picked up a brochure from the front desk. I'm happy for you. Now about Growler...”



“But the thing about these tigers,” Giovanni continued, “is that they don't know they're on some list. They just keep running around, eating, hunting, rutting, without knowing that one day soon, they'll all be gone. Must be nice, right? But you, Bard...you're smart enough to know when you're endangered, even if the animals you run with don't. That's why you're here.”



“That's wonderful, Giovanni. Poetic. Do you have a monologue prepared for the lemur cages, too? Or can we get to the point?”



Giovanni grinned. “Very well. If you insist. You may have what's left of your vice president, in exchange for Nic.”



I took a deep breath, and did my best to sound like I respected him. “Giovanni. For many years, we've done business, and I have always known you to be a reasonable man. Revenge is a pursuit for smaller men. It's petty, it's short-sighted, and there's no profit in it. You're intelligent. You know this. So surely, there must be some other way for us to settle this dispute...some tax or tribute we can offer you, some concession that will satisfy you and allow us to put this whole ugly business behind us.”



Marie leaned over and spit in my face.



I tried to hide my surprise and took my glasses off, wiping them on my shirt.



Giovanni raised his eyebrows at me and shrugged. “There is your answer, Bard. Now, let me tell you something about your little 'vengeance doesn't pay' speech, which I'm sure was very well-rehearsed. You and those grease-stained mongrels you ride around with like to think you know about words like 'code' and 'honor' because you watched a few movies about cowboys and outlaws. You speak of vengeance, but you know nothing of vendetta.



My people have kept the old ways alive going back to the 1700s,” Giovanni continued. “We take none of those traditions more seriously than vendetta. It's simplicity itself. An eye for an eye. A life for a life, until honor is settled. When we respect it, there are sometimes brief interruptions in our business, true. But the message it sends to those who would be our enemies is clear. And when vendetta is ignored, well, that's when those same enemies believe we can be disrespected with impunity. And that is the beginning of the end.”



I took another deep breath. “So you can't afford to look weak. I understand that. But you've already made that point several times over through what you've inflicted on Growler. You let him go now, and he's a walking billboard to everyone who sees him. 'Don't fuck with the Bonaccorsos.'”



I realized I had sworn and mentally kicked myself for it. Don't let this insufferable tub of guts get under your skin, I thought. Just let him make his idiotic speeches, and say whatever you need to say to get him to let Growler go and end this, before more Reapers die.



I continued. “On top of that, you can name your price. You want us to boost a dozen luxury cars for you? We can have them ready for you in two days with their tracking devices disabled, serial numbers filed off, and any paint job you ask for. That's a couple million dollars in your pocket, with no risk or hassle for you. Or we can hijack a few truckloads of anything you want. Between that and Growler, your reputation will be extremely solid.”



Giovanni shook his head sadly. “I'm afraid you haven't been listening. I have money, and when I decide that I want more, I have all the opportunities in the world to take it. This is not a discussion about money. This is about the simple fact that I am owed Nic's life, and the question of whether you will give it to me willingly or whether I will be forced to take it and the lives of other Reapers. Once I've finished with Growler, of course. Take a moment to decide if you wish, but please, don't waste more of my time with pointless pleading and bribery. That, Bard, is beneath you.”



I thought about The Merchant of Venice demanding his “pound of flesh,” and shuddered. I kept trying to calm myself, but I wasn't sure how much more of this ghoul's posturing I could stand. I tried so hard to keep my temper hidden from the Reapers, so they'd think I always had myself under control. I even hoped I would be a reminder for them to keep their heads under pressure. But I still remembered every time I had lost my cool while I was in Delta and the bloody messes that followed—including the final one which had led to a dishonorable discharge.



“Take me, then,” I offered.



Giovanni leaned in, cupping his ear theatrically. “I beg your pardon?”



Oh, he was enjoying this.



“You heard me. You want a life for a life? Fine. Growler isn't the one who killed Marie's husband, and the man who did it was my responsibility. As his leader, any action he takes should be blamed on me. Besides, which is better for your precious reputation? Killing some nameless biker trash no one's ever heard of, or killing the president of the War Reapers?”



Giovanni appeared to think it over. “That's a very temping offer, and what's more, it shows you to be a brave and honorable man.” He turned to the scowling woman in black. “Well, Marie? What do you think? Should we accept Bard's sacrifice, and take his life in exchange for Nic's?”



Marie spoke slowly, and even though her accent was heavy, her words were clear. “I want Nic. I want to watch the death of the man who killed my husband. And I want it to be slow.”



Giovanni spread his arms almost apologetically. “You see? I'm afraid that ultimately, it's not up to me. These are our traditions, after all. And without them, who are we?”



This had descended into a nightmare. I'd always known what a psychotic toad Giovanni was, but I still believed I could rely on his greed to prevent this war from escalating. Even so, there was one thing left for me to try. I didn't want to, but I knew that if I didn't, Nic would never forgive me.



“This is my last offer, Giovanni. If the only way to stop more bloodshed is to turn Nic over to you, fine. But no torture. I'll bring him in personally and watch you shoot him through the head to make sure you keep your word. But I swear to God, I will gladly rot in hell next to every man who's ever worn a Reaper patch before I ever agree to turn over a Reaper to be tortured for your sick fucking amusement.”



Swore again. Keep it together for just a couple more minutes, Bard.



Giovanni nodded. “That's a very fair offer. Marie?”



Marie shook her head slowly, baring her teeth in a snarl. “No. We torture him.”



Giovanni sighed lightly. “Then I'm afraid it's settled. You bring us Nic, and you leave him to pay his price as we see fit. To refuse means the war will continue.”



War. I had a more intimate history with that word than most. Fat gangsters like Giovanni could throw it around like they knew what it meant, but they had never scouted through dusty desert villages. They had never used expertly-trained eyes to scan even the most harmless-looking civilians for the bulges of hidden guns and bomb vests that marked them as armed enemy combatants.



I had. And I'd been using those same eyes to scan the other people standing around the tiger pit, to determine whether Giovanni had brought any of his guys to protect him.



The arrogant bastard hadn't.



I moved with the speed and fluidity that Delta had taught me, my fingers stiffened together as the edge of my hand struck Marie's windpipe. She gasped, clutching her throat and trying to breathe as she sagged against the railing.



Before Giovanni had time to react, I drove my boot into his kneecap, feeling it splinter. He shrieked and I darted behind him, wrapping my arms around his neck. His scream cut off in a gurgle, and I dragged him to the railing of the tiger pit, heaving him forward until we almost lost our balance. People were already starting to call out for help, and some were shooting footage on their cell phones. I'd better make this quick, before I become some kind of viral video star.



“See that tiger, Giovanni?” I hissed in his ear. “Endangered, right? But if I drop you into its cage, it'll still tear you to shreds, no matter what stupid speeches you try to make to it.”



Giovanni let out a high, quivering wail. Below us, the tiger looked up, licking its chops.



“See, we Reapers may be tigers, Big G, you're right. But we're still dangerous. And with your stubborn clinging to centuries-old nonsense...you are a dinosaur. And there's nothing dangerous about something that's extinct and doesn't even know it yet.”



Two of the zoo's security guards were approaching quickly. Giovanni's eyes were starting to bulge and roll back in his head due to lack of oxygen. It was time to end this.