Page 87 of Mob Queen

“Give her a couple of hundred,” I whisper to G.

He takes out a wad of cash held together by a gold money clip, flicks through a few fifties and hands them to the girl. “Go downstairs, my driver will take you home.”

“O-okay,” the girl nervously replies.

G takes his phone out of his pocket and lifts it to his ear. The girl is scrambling to find her underwear while Primo zips himself up then pours two drinks. He extends his arm to hand one to me.

“I’m not fucking touching that.” I screw up my nose.

The girl is finally out of the office, and G closes the door. “Everything good, Don DeLuca?” Primo asks. He throws the second drink back, and I notice how he’s scanning the warehouse floor. He knows he’s in the shit.

“We have a problem.” I walk over and drag out a chair, sitting opposite the scummy sofa he has up here. “Sit.” I pointedly gesture toward the sofa.

Primo’s shoulders stiffen and he pours himself yet another drink. He looks to me, then to the bottle and grabs it before finally sitting on the sofa. “What’s the problem?” the slight break in his voice tells me he’s shitting himself.

“What business have we never done?” He darts his eyes to G who’s standing to my side, then to his desk. “Primo.”

“Don’t do this,” he says. “I’ve brought you in a lot of money.”

“When did the people smuggling start?”

His jaw tightens and he grips the neck of the bottle so tight that his knuckles whiten. “It’s ?”

“When?” I ask, my voice low and eerily in control.

“I ?” I lift my hand and with my palm faced up, I wait for G to put the gun in it. Primo eyes the weapon and exhales a shaky breath. I shoot his leg, then rest the gun against my thigh. “Fuck,” he yells. He grabs hold of his leg and tries to apply pressure.

“We can do this the easy way, or the hard way. The choice is yours. But, whichever you pick, you end up dead. The only question you have to answer now is do I kill your wife and three girls as well as you? Before you make that decision, let me tell you what’s going to happen. I’ll send Dario to get your wife, and I’ll have him bring her here. I’ll fuck her while you watch, then I’ll carve her into so many pieces that she can’t be identified. Or, you can tell me the truth now, and the next shot will be to your head. The choice is yours. Do I fuck your wife then take my time carving her up in front of you, or do I shoot you in the head and leave your family alone?”

Primo’s hands are trembling and there’s sweat dripping down his face. Suddenly, the door flies open and one of the men from the floor has his weapon drawn. He quickly assesses the room, then steps backward. “My apologies, Don DeLuca,” he says and leaves.

Primo’s breathing is short and raspy as he clasps his leg. I give him a few seconds and shake my head. “Hard way it is.” I look to G who dials Dario’s number.

“No!” Primo shouts. He lifts his hand and tries to placate me. “Leave my family alone, please.” I give G a knowing look and he hangs up. “I’ve been smuggling women and kids in.”

“For what reason?”

He squeezes his eyes shut then clears his throat. “I’ve been running a whore house.”

“For the women?”

“Yeah, and the kids have been getting me top dollar on the black market.” I shoot him in the stomach just because he’s pissed me off. “What the fuck?” he gurgles as he holds his stomach.

“Where’s the operation being run out of?” G asks.

“Industrial buildings on Eighth and Henry.”

“What number?” I ask.

“The fifth and sixth units,” he groans while spittle drips out of his mouth. His face is red, and he’s gasping for breath. I shoot him again in the stomach. “You said it was going to be quick.”

“You’re selling kids and using my name to do it.” I stand and straighten my shoulders. I press the trigger sending another round into his stomach. “You’re done.” I turn to leave and hear him begging for me to finish him. “Get rid of him,” I say to G. “Take him out on the boat. Make sure he’s alive when he goes under.”

“You’re fucking cruel.” G chuckles.

“And give Saul his crew. Saul’s a good captain. He’ll clean them up.” G is already on his phone calling in the crew to clean up. By the time I make it downstairs, Dario has already returned and is waiting for me. “Take me home, then come back and help G with the mess.”

Dario closes the door to the car, and jogs around to the driver’s seat. Primo did the one thing I fucking hate, and because of that, his life is done. But I’ll leave his family alone. They had nothing to do with it and probably didn’t even know about it.

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