Page 16 of Dagger in the Sea

I put down my empty glass. I knew what I wanted, needed. I dialed my soldier, Paul.

“Did you find Salazar?” I asked.

“Perfect timing. Just tying him up.”

My pulse ticked in my neck. “I’ll be right there.”

I took a cab to Bridgeport and walked up and over the three blocks to our basement holding cell in a pawn shop owned by Paul’s cousin. The tension in my muscles pounding, I charged down the winding metal steps and pushed through the door.

Paul’s eyes widened at the sight of me and he quickly stepped aside. He knew.

“Well, hello, Mr. Salazar,” my voice filled the dank, dark space.

Salazar strained against the chair he’d been tied to. He groaned, his body pushing against the chains around his chest and legs.

“He ain’t talking,” Paul said.

I sniffed in air. “You’ll talk to me though. Won’t you?” My fingers flexed and Salazar’s bloodied eyes darted to the movement. I took off my jacket and handed it to Ricky, Paul’s boy. “Be careful with that.”

“Yeah, ‘course.”

I reached for the tire iron, and a low moan heaved from Salazar. Paul cleared his throat, shifting his weight. “You don’t have to talk yet.” I stroked Salazar’s face with the heavy metal bar. “It’s my turn now.”

Thwack.

Bone cracked, and he screamed. I hit his leg again at the knee.

“Aaaah!” Salazar’s body jerked, he shuddered violently. His head slumped forward, hanging on his chest.

I lifted his swollen face with the tire iron. “Nowit’s your turn,” my voice hissed. A cockroach crawled to my left and I squashed it with my shoe. “For fuck’s sake, Paul, you have to get an exterminator in here.” I threw down the tire iron and grabbed the hammer.

Paul jumped over and untied Salazar’s one hand, tying it to the small table to the right. I slanted my head at Paul and he held Salazar’s head, making him focus on his hand on the wood table that was scratched and dinged with knife marks and poundings.

“No! No! Please!” Salazar squawked.

“I need the address of that Tantucci drop off location. And I need it now.”

Salazar’s face froze. I’d caught him double dealing with a Tantucci soldier. He was a low worker bee in our Outfit, but at this level was where you found the buried riches, where the trail began, at the lowest denominator.

My fingers squeezed around the taped handle, and my hammer flew. With every scream of his agony my heart jolted in my chest, adrenaline coursing through my veins.

Valerio’s scowl, Francesca’s inviting smile, Mauro’s controlled rage, my mother’s politeness, Serena’s body yielding to mine as she turned her face away. I stood back from Salazar and waited. He muttered through his groans and cries. Next to me, Paul’s face glistened with sweat, pale in the one fluorescent light bar buzzing over us as he asked him detailed questions and received replies. Ricky chewed on his lower lip behind him.

“That’s better,” I said.

Paul handed me a paper towel and I wiped off the blood and muck. Ricky held out my jacket. I slid it back on and left. Outside in the fresh air I took in a deep breath, but the high I’d felt two moments ago had already faded. My nerves twitched. I’d hyped myself up instead of calming myself down in that basement. I needed something else. Something to take the edge off my edge.

Something more.

6

Turo

I went back homeand drained another whisky. I had to talk to Mauro about my mother, and I needed to do it fast. His threatening her was a hazardous chemical seeping into my nicely dammed reservoir. Poisonous. The buzz of the concierge phone in the foyer of my apartment clipped the rush of my thoughts.

“Mr. DeMarco? Ms. Ciara is here to see you, sir.”

Dammit. I’d missed her performance tonight.

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