Page 38 of Sinner's Vows

“Maybe. I’m not sure how this is any of Franco Fiore’s business as he has his own operations going in Italy.”

“Where is Vincenzo? And the woman?” the other Boris asks. He’s been quiet, allowing the one with his mouth on the run to keep talking. “We want them. We go. Leave you alone.”

His English is more forced, his accent heavier, his vocabulary clearly limited. This one is very fresh.

I bet their heads were bagged when whoever transported them brought them here. These guys have no clue where they are. They weren’t in the loop with Franco’s arrival and that he came to sort shit out himself. He also noticed they were incompetent and underperforming. This explains why no Ukrainians were at our little shootout at the warehouse. They were still trying to get the original job done. Yep, fuckwits.

“Only we get to ask the questions here, Boris and Boris,” Luca tells them, and both men shift uncomfortably on their feet, setting loose a ripple of clanging metal.

Right. If they’re clueless about Franco’s movements, these two won’t know anything about Ariana Morelli’s arrival either. Their value just halved.

“Okay, so you’re here to take the lady in question, with her brother Vincenzo, and get them shipped back to Italy. How did Franco Fiore pay you for these services?”

“Bitcoin.”

I exchange a glance with Luca. Nice. “How much?”

“Fifty thousand dollars.”

We both quirk our brows as we glance at each other and then back at our prisoners. Somebody got seriously lowballed. Or?—

“Slim pickings for such a high-profile job, don’t you think?” I say, knowing what we know of Gigi Trapani and her family’s millions. Fifty-thousand dollars is an insult.

“Very slim,” Luca says. “Fuck it, I don’t get out of bed for less than sixty K a day.”

I smirk, leaning back in my chair. “You for real?”

“Lie in bed every morning and track the numbers and only get up once I’ve clocked sixty.”

He’s probably joking, but who the fuck cares. “You’re a little shit, you know that?”

Luca shrugs. “What can I say, having made money motivates me to make more money. Come on, Nicky. We all need some motivation to get out of bed in the mornings.”

Between him and Benedict, they have some contest going on in which I have zero interest. Money is handy, and it makes life easy, but fuck knows, I get out of bed because if I don’t, shit will fly and hit bull’s eye.

“There must be more to this deal you’re not telling us about,” I say as I stand. Time for some real talk. I walk over to the unit by the wall and open the lock with my thumbprint. With a deep but suppressed sigh, I switch on the system and take out the two PlayStation-type controllers. I have my back to the men, and they’d have no clue what’s coming.

As I stroll back, I toss Luca one of the controllers. He has his poker face on, but I can almost see that burrito squirm in his stomach. Yep, this isn’t Luca’s territory. I should tell my younger brother to leave, but fuck it, we’re only getting to therealgood-cop, bad-cop part now, and I’m going to need him.

“Gentle with the controls,” I say as I sit down again. “They’re sensitive.”

“Okay. So, what’re we playing?”

“Hangman.”

“Fuck. So just imagine we’re playingCall of Duty?”

“If that works for you.” I test my controller’s buttons, and the Boris in front of me catches on that his arms are being lifted on both sides, reeled away from his body.

“How did you do that?” Luca asks as he leans in to check what I’m doing with my controls.

“Up, down, left, right. This button for arms, this one for legs, and this little fucker for the head,” I say as I play around to demonstrate.

“Okay, jeez, the Don was a committed old nutcase, wasn’t he just.”

“You can say that again.”

Protests come from both Borises now as we are tightening their arms and legs to the side.

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