Page 85 of The Bonventi Secret
My phone buzzes on my chest and startles me awake. I'd fallen asleep in my bed—our bed.
I grab my phone and unlock it; the screen is bright, and I squint my eyes. It's a text from Gio.
Guest is here. Waiting in the white room.
I rub my face and sit up.
The white room.
I get out of bed and splash some water on my face. I make my way out of the suite, and the guards that were there follow me, keeping a safe distance.
I make my way downstairs to the garage, where a man is waiting to open a secret door that will take me underground.
The white room was actually my idea some years ago. I wanted a place on-site where I could ask questions of people, find out things I needed to know. If they didn't cooperate, things could get a little physical. Gio and I agreed the concrete room should be painted white so our guests could witness their blood loss infull detail, the white hiding none of the red liquid. We found that the sight of our guests' blood was a good motivator for talking, which is all we wanted. Well, maybe Gio wanted a bit more.
I walk down the stairs leading underground, and I'm reminded of how cold it gets down here. One winter, we had a guy in his underwear tied to the metal chair, and Gio was beating him in a full down coat.
When I get to the bottom and enter the room, I see a man in the middle, tied to the chair. He's already been knocked around a few times, and small trickles of blood are running down his nose over the duct tape that's around his mouth.
His eyes go wide when he sees me walk in.
"This son of a bitch is a Rossi. When we tailed the car from the kidnapping, he was the one driving. They must have switched at some point."
I nod, looking at the man, my anger starting to build.
"Has he said anything?" I ask.
Gio shakes his head. "No, says he was just given the job to drive the car after they switched near Skokie. We caught up with him coming off I-94."
"Well, let me have a crack at him."
I step closer to the man tied to the chair, my eyes scanning his battered face. The white room amplifies every detail—the beads of sweat on his forehead, the trembling of his lips beneath the duct tape.
"Remove the tape," I order Gio, my voice low and controlled.
Gio rips off the tape, eliciting a muffled cry from our guest. I lean in close, my face inches from his.
"You know who I am?" I ask, keeping my voice low and firm. When he nods, I smile. "Good. Then you know what I'm capable of."
The man nods vigorously.
"Where did they take her?"
"I swear, I just drove—" His words cut off as my fist connects with his jaw. The impact vibrates up my arm, and his head snaps back.
"Wrong answer." I grab his chin, forcing him to look at me. "Every lie you tell me, every second you waste that keeps me from her, I'll start removing parts, you understand? Starting with your fingers."
His eyes dart to Gio, who's already laying out a set of pliers on a small metal table.
"Please, I'm telling the truth! They just told me to drive?—"
I backhand him, splitting his lip further. Blood sprays across the white floor.
Beautiful.
"You're not just a soldier, you're a Rossi cousin. You really expect me to believe they just had you driving without any other details?"
"I... I..."
