Deluca

TWENTY-ONE

Francesco traversed his way through the empty tables nodding his greetings to the few workers who had come to prepare for open hours.

Mannino's was one of the first restaurants Francesco had opened, using it as one of his many avenues for cleaning his money.

Over the years, he had managed to hire people who would keep their mouths shut, especially for what happens in the back room.

Francesco pushed through the kitchen doors and walked down the stairs leading to an iron door. Opening it, Francesco saw Henri and Louis standing in two opposite corners, staring at a miserable pair — tied up in wooden chairs with their backs to each other.

He had felt relief when Henri had told him he found the men who had been behind the theft. It felt like one less thing he had to worry about, but it wouldn't be over until he got his answers.

"Just these two?" Francesco asked Henri who only shrugged. It was Louis who provided an answer, "We haven't got that far. We were at the bar when we heard this idiot boasting about his new fortune."

He pointed to the taller of the two men who glared at Louis as he spoke.

"How do you know it is related?" Francesco asked.

"We asked, he was stupid enough to answer."

Francesco circled the two men, they both still had been gagged. Their unblemished faces told Francesco that it hadn't been much of a struggle to get them both there.

The taller of the two was the most headstrong of the two. The second man hung his head low in shame and his fear was visible. Francesco picked up a knife from the table in the corner and walked over to the taller of the two.

Using the blade, he cut away the rope that left the man gagged. As soon as the man had the ability, he began cursing at Francesco, his voice loud enough that anyone above would be able to hear him — not that it mattered.

"You fucked up big time buddy. You don't even know who I am, who I work for. As soon as I am out of here my men when have you killed and your head on a fucking stick."

For a moment, Francesco was shocked that the man was American. Then he began to feel a low ire in his gut, and a culmination of all of his past frustrations began to build up.

"Bold of you to assume that you'll be walking out of here," Francesco commented, slipping off the suit jacket he wore and handing it to Louis. Louis took it without a word, folding it over his arm and looking over to the irate man solemnly.

"Who do you work for?" Francesco asked.

Glancing down at the gold band that wrapped around his finger, Francesco said a silent prayer before slipping it off and placing it on the table as well.

"Fuck you, I'm not telling you shit." The man shot back, he barely paused before he continued with his vile insults towards all of the men in the room.

Francesco turned to an expectant Henri. He stood there silently with his hands behind his back, a man of view words yet his expression said it all. Francesco gave him a curt nod before turning back to the table and slipping on the brass knuckles that had always remained in the cellar.

Less than a moment later a gunshot rang out and the man shouting had been replaced with the sound of gurgling. Henri had shot him in the neck, delaying his death by seconds.

The man struggled for a moment, drowning in his blood. The room filled with the smell of iron — his blood spilling everywhere but managing to make it into the drain in the center of the room.