Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 56885 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 284(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56885 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 284(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
I press Accept. The screen shows nothing but darkness, which means the phone must be in Logan’s pocket.
“You doing okay back there, tough guy?”
“That’s Sal,” Elliot says, rushing around the counter. “What the hell’s going on?”
“Logan’s with Sal?” I gasp, my heart pounding. “What? How? When? It’s only been an hour.”
“An hour since what?” Elliot says, tilting his head.
I say nothing, listening intently.
“I know why you haven’t gagged me, Sal,” Logan snarls. “You’re waiting for me to tell you how scared I am. You’re waiting for me to beg you to let me go. It’s never going to happen.”
“We’ll see how tough you are when we’ve taken our pound of flesh, you flashy fuck.”
“The Velvet Lounge.” Logan laughs gruffly. “What a name. How did you think of that one? It’s such a damn cliché, you might as well have called it ‘Mob Guys Meet Here.’”
“Like a seafood joint called The Clam? Or was called The Clam?”
“Ah, yeah, and then I slapped you around in my office, and you didn’t do a damn thing,” snarled Logan.
“Keep dreaming, you bastard.”
“Elliot,” I whisper. “We need to call the cops.”
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Elliot slams his hand on the counter. “The Mangano Family has contacts with the cops. What if we get the wrong officer? We’ll tip them off. Make them mad. I don’t know what to do.”
“We can’t let them hurt, Logan!”
“Get ready for some fun,” Sal snarls.
The screen changes, and the audio gets dimmer, with the camera facing the car's ceiling.
“I think Logan has ditched the phone. What are we supposed to do?” I cry.
“Maybe I can talk to Sal,” Elliot says. “Convince him I’ll make Logan see sense.”
“They’re going to hurt him. And Logan won’t give in. We have to go. Now.”
Elliot looks strangely at me again. I’m letting too much emotion into my voice. I’m giving too many hints to the feelings whirring in me, but I can’t help it. The man I lost my virginity to, the man I’m ready to build a future with.
“We have to go. Now.” When Elliot keeps staring at me, I clap my hands in front of his face. “Now, Elliot! We can’t let this happen.”
CHAPTER 23
LOGAN
Ikept looking for my chance to jump into action, but on the ride over, two of Sal’s men had their guns trained on me. They took my cell phone, never stopping to think I might have another. Did livestreaming on the ride over here make any difference?
Now, we’re in the basement of a bar. The room reeks of damp, and only a small sliver of sunlight comes through the letterbox window. They must have been following me.
As I turned a corner, two cars pulled out, blocking my way, men rushing from their cars with their guns out. I tried to back up, but another car screeched into the road. I hammered into it, then I was done.
But I’m not going to give them what they want.
They’ve chained me to a wall with my arms behind my back and metal shackles on my wrists. Two guards are in the room, one standing near me, the other near the door, with guns in their hands. I guess the others are upstairs, partying by the sounds of it, their fucked-up reward for a fucked-up job well done.
Sal hefts the blowtorch from one hand to the other.
“He’s going to scream, Sal,” the guard near the door says. He’s short and skinny, with a playing card tattoo on his neck.
“He’s not wrong, boss,” the other man says. He took off his jacket when we walked in here, revealing a white vest and chunky arms covered in scars, both from cuts and bullet wounds.
“If you’re going to do this, you should gag him, Sal.”
“Sal, Sal, Sal,” Sal spits. “You forgetting something, Enzo?”
“I’ll never call another Mangano ‘boss’ unless he’s the Don, and you’re not the fucking Don,” Enzo grunts. “If you’re going to do this, you need to gag him.”
“This neighborhood has plenty of screaming.”
“We should’ve gagged him in the car,” Enzo grumbles.
When the other guard moves toward the corner of the room, Sal snaps, “What the fuck are you doing?”
“I was going to get a ga—”
“Who the fuck is in charge here?” Sal hisses.
I smirk at him. “Not you, apparently.” That even gets a smile out of Enzo. “Something tells me you’re not the man you made yourself out to be, Sal. If you were, you wouldn’t have just vandalized The Clam. You would’ve burned it to the ground. If you were, I’d be dead for rag-dolling you like the little bitch you are.”
“More lies,” Sal mutters, but he looks furious. “Let’s see how tough you are when I burn you to a goddamn crisp.”
“Go ahead,” I growl. “It won’t change anything. You’ll never have your hands on Do It All.”
I look at Enzo again, reading his expression. It’s just like in a business meeting. Often, I talk to one person but watch another for their reaction. Their reaction can tell me if I’m right or if I’m grasping for something.