Page 15 of Extradition (Mobsters + Billionaires 1)
Christ in a handbasket, this is off the fucking rails.
“Excuse me, who are you?” While directed at Wolfe with a friendly lilt, Sally’s words aren’t his idea of good manners. He knows exactly who this is. If he’s smart, he’ll shake him down for cash, but brother dearest is, frankly, a psychopath who loves murder more than he loves money.
Wolfe adjusts his lapel, self-importance right on fucking brand. “I’m Rand Wolfe of Wolfe Athletics. I am happy to wait for Mr. Portelli to clock out. You almost certainly recognize me, and therefore must know that he and I have important business to discuss.”
“Aren’t you the fuck who fired him in front of all of New York?”
“I believe Mr. Portelli left his employment voluntarily.”
Mother Jesus, this man has no clue. Tightening the noose around his own damn neck. “Shut up,” I mutter at him through my teeth. Wolfe straightens his shoulders, acting as though he doesn’t hear me.
Sally, already jonesing for the smell of gunpowder, riles up the guys. “You hear that, fellas? Lyin’ to me with my family’s name on his lips.”
More grumbling from the assembled—and now locked-in—men.
“I assure you, Mr. Portelli’s unemployment status is his doing and his doing alone.”
“Jesus fucking Christ, Wolfe. Shut. Up.”
He sends a look down his nose at me and cold reality settles in. This asshole is about to ruin my fucking life.
“Oh, now you callin’ me a liar with my family’s name still in your mouth?” Sally asks, imitating every damn mobster movie he’s ever watched.
“I apologize, am I supposed to be familiar with the Portelli family?”
“Put it to you this way. We’re not into the stock market.”
“Then what, pray tell, are you into?”
Sally looks at me, rolls his eyes, then looks at Mikey and jerks his thumb. Mikey’s eyes brighten, and I know exactly what he’s thinking: finally, an in with the family.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
I do not want to have to bury this jackass.
I hold up my hand. “I got this one, Mikey.” Mikey’s expression falls, so I turn to Sally and stage-whisper, “Brother, if you’re looking for loyalty, Mikey stepped up in a big way for me. I know he’d do a good job, but I need to take this motherfucker down. These billionaires…this is a different level of heat.”
His scowl is loaded with derision as he puts his face in mine, muttering, “You’re no brother of mine. You’re too squeamish for that. But yeah, I’ll let you take out the trash on this one. Fuck it up, though, and you better start running. Or just fucking kill yourself to save me the bullet.”
I nod, and Sally points at Wolfe. “You better get him the fuck out of here before he opens his mouth again.”
“Excuse you—”
I clamp my hand over Wolfe’s mouth and march him out of the building to the shouts and jeers of the first and second shifts. Looking around, I spot the building with the big fucking helicopter on top of it, Wolfe emblazoned on the side.
What a fucking prick.
“Mr. Portelli, I am perfectly capable of—”
“You keep talking and you’ll be capable of jack shit. My half-brother has a yard full of shipping containers, a loaded.45 in his waistband, and no goddamn impulse control. Keep your feet moving.”
That finally seems to shut him up, and he becomes more compliant. Not bothering with the sidewalk, I push him through a hole in the fence to the adjacent building, ignoring his protests of ruined shoes and a snag on his jacket.
The building is a newer structure, and I’m confronted with a locked door and a palm reader.
