Page 17 of Extradition (Mobsters + Billionaires 1)
“I don’t know what that means.”
I roll my eyes for what seems like the hundredth time today. “He’s being nice. The people who know call us the Portelli crime family.”
Wolfe turns to me, mouth agape. “You’re Mafia?”
“No. My father is Mafia. I clawed my way out of that life so I could work for a big, shiny, legal corporation. Clearly, a brilliant plan that worked in my favor.” Turning to Captain America, I answer his question. “I can work with three minutes, but in five, my father will take over and bullets will start flying.”
Three more flights of stairs to go, and I start texting.
Joe: Problem solved.
Joe: Fuck, just checked his phone. He’s got a helicopter pilot asking when they’re taking off again.
Sally: What the fuck?
Joe: Rich fucking assholes.
Sally: Too right.
Joe: I answered the text. Told him to take off, that our friend would be taking alternate transportation.
Sally: Good, good. Did you fucking clock out? I’m not paying for that shit.
Joe: Yeah, I had Mikey clock out for me.
Joe: Look, I need to make the final arrangements for this one. Might not be in for a coupla days.
Sally: I ain’t paying you for shit.
Sally: I can send Mikey to help, but you hafta pay for his time.
Joe: Understood. I’ll let you know.
What a tool.
We open the door to the roof, where the shiny helicopter sits like a big fucking target. We start running, and I keep an eye on the warehouse. Even if we make it out of here alive, staying alive is about to get real fucking tricky.
