Page 96 of She Belongs to Me
It was a calculated maneuver. Whoever was behind this had thought it through. Their uniforms were perfect, down to their matching boots. I had to give the head honcho credit.
I walked closer, my irritation growing. The unknown men were looking at me blankly. They certainly had no discernable features, but they were covered up by the long sleeves and buttoned-up jumpsuits.
“We found these in their vehicle, boss,” one of my men said. He held up a huge duffle bag. With one look it was confirmed the thieves weren’t amateurs. They had assault rifles and enough ammunition to blow up the goddamn building.
“And the vehicle?”
“It appears to be a commercial van equipped with plumbing material. Do you want me to check to see if they are really technicians?” Enzo asked. “No IDs on the fuckers.”
“I assure you the real technicians are dead, their bodies tossed into the sea. Isn’t that correct, gentlemen?” I was now only a couple of feet from the two men. They still wore blank expressions, indicating no emotion of any kind. But I sensed one of the assholes was the leader. I’d always been able to get a feel about those things. There was an implied arrogance, a scent of holier than thou.
“You better talk to the Don,” Luca told them.
As soon as there was a slight flicker of the leader’s eyes, I knew I was right. Arrogance always trumped common sense.
“Volete morire entrambi? Se lo fai, fammelo sapere e sarò felice di farlo accadere.” I moved even closer, taking my time studying one man’s face then the other. My statement had been in Italian, but I could tell there was zero understanding of the language. I could always tell when there was at least a flicker of understanding.
Do you both want to die? If you do then by all means let me know and I will happily make that happen.
The leader shifted slightly from one foot to the other and I decided to rile him if possible. I backhanded him hard, sending his body reeling backward.
While he cupped his jaw, he didn’t fall to the floor, merely stumbling before he could right himself. When he threw me a look, there was no animosity whatsoever. Just a slight hint of amusement. I decided to take another swing at the situation in a different way.
“Gia poion douléveis?” I could tell almost instantly that the question I’d posed in Greek had caught them off guard.
Who are you working for?
My father’s advice of learning various languages had been one of those things my siblings and I had loathed. But the man had been right. While information might be power, in the international world of doing business, knowing exactly what was being said was priceless.
Luca grinned like some kid. I hadn’t exercised my Greek in a long time. The hunch had paid off, but that didn’t necessarily make me happy. It meant these two assholes were nothing but soldiers either hired to do a limited job or sent over from the United States by Adonis. Either way, realizing that Adonis was fishing was disturbing as fuck.
Now the one good aspect of the bastards coming here was that the production facility wasn’t a secret under any circumstance. It couldn’t be. The information kept in the locked office was something else, but this could be nothing more than a fishing expedition or a warning meant to put me on notice.
I didn’t take kindly to it.
Another soldier entered the room, laughing softly. “There’s blood on the driver’s seat, more in the back. It looks like there was a struggle.”
“Of course there was.” I stared into the young man’s eyes—the one who wasn’t the leader—taking my time unzipping his jumpsuit. He didn’t object nor did he move an inch, but a single bead of sweat trickled down the side of his face. Even better, the one in charge was furious.
As suspected, the kid was dressed in all black, combat wear for the bottom-line soldier. It was meant to be nondescript so an enemy couldn’t detect any nationality or affiliation. There was a contingency of Greeks in Italy of course, but I had a strong feeling these two were sent from somewhere else.
I’d heard of a training ground in Albania or some other godforsaken country, but it had never been confirmed. It was much like the American military, at least according to CNN. I decided to pepper the kid with a series of questions.
“Apó poú eísai?”
Where did you come from?
“Ti se ésteilan na káneis?”
What were you sent to do?
“Pes mou to ónoma tou gamiménou pou se ésteile.”
Tell me the fucker’s name who sent you.
There were more, one more pointed than the one before. I was in the kid’s face, realizing just how nervous he was. By the eighth question, the kid was sweating bullets, his eyes darting back and forth. Luca and Enzo grasped the opportunity to be bad-asses, something that didn’t occur as often as it did when in the old days.
They were crowded close, guns held in both hands.