New Man - John Abruzzi x OC

Chapter 4

"Phil Falzone. It's an honour. What are you doing here?"

Phil Falzone rested his head on top of his folded hands and offered him a cold smile. He'd definitely upgraded. His suit was Italian, tailored. Probably Atollini, or something.

"Just thought we'd ... You know." He said, his voice dripping with politeness. "Fraternise."

John had seen this coming. Smallhouse returned his stare, then turned to Falzone and shook his head.

"Looks like it, doesn't he?"

Abruzzi missed a beat.

"Looks like what?"

"Like what everybody's been saying. A Namby Pamby. Like you've finally lost it.

John snorted incredulously, laughing.

"You shouldn't be talking to me like that. You used to pick up my laundry."

Smallhouse shook his head, but he averted his eyes.

"Not anymore, John."

"Word is," Falzone broke the exchange, "that someone in here knows where Fibonacci is, and you're not doing anything about it."

John clenched his fist under the table.

"I'm working on it." He growled.

"Well, you're not working on it fast enough. Apparently, Fibonacci's coming up for air again. Next month, there's a congressional hearing. Now, if he testifies at that hearing, a lot of people are going down, including me."

Phil Falzone fixed his cold eyes into his.

"Now, I've known you a long time. Our wives were friends; our kids go to the same Catholic school. It would be a shame if anything were to happen to your kids."

John felt his heart malfunction and a cold sweat break out on his forehead. Falzone watched him carefully from beneath his perfect, dark brows.

"I know my kids would miss them." He said softly.

Abruzzi's palms were cold. He leaned forward.

"You don't need to do this." He muttered, fear replacing all, including anger.

"I do." Falzone put simply.

'I'll get this guy." He hissed. "We'll get Fibonacci."

"For everyone's sake, I hope you do."

"I will."

Falzone and Smallhouse stood, as did Abruzzi.

"Be well, John." Phil said, offering him his hand, searching his face.

"Thank you." He shook it, then turned and walked from the room, not turning around.

A thousand curses and black thoughts ran around in his mind. He knew Falzone's- and his own- methods, although his never involved anybody under the age of twenty. He knew what this man was capable of, and getting rid of three children was a mere walk in the park for his men. Lord. His children.

He wiped the cold sweat from his brow and tried to ignore the stabbing pain in his lower ribs, clenching his fists. Men jostled around him, but he paid them no heed. His mind was on the photo.

He had to solve the problem. Enough of being nice.

"What is it, Boss?" Fiorello called. "Who was it?"

"We've got a little job to do, Gus." He muttered in reply, walking purposefully. "Enough playin' around."

"What's gonna happen?"