Riding Dirty: Luciotti Crime Family (A Bad Boy Mafia Romance) - Kara Hart Page 0,38

I went to grab a cup.

“They didn't call you the Butcher for nothing, right?” I poured my coffee and sighed. “Coffee and wine might not be the best morning combo. Mind if I come in to the café later?”

“You're not going to kill me, are you?” He laughed, taking another sip of red wine. I shook my head “no” which seemed to offer him some relief. “Sure. Do what you want. You can have the coffee on the house for all I care.”

I shook my head at the thought of that. I had a lot of respect for the guy, despite the circumstances. In his heyday, he was one badass motherfucker. Frankly, he deserved all the respect in the world. Even if I was going to kill the guy.

“I'd like to pay. I like supporting small businesses,” I said.

“Good. I’ll admit, it’s a new passion of mine. But I enjoy it. The old life,” he sighed, “all of that is behind me now. I've asked for forgiveness. I've done my penance. I just hope that God can forgive me.” He finished the glass. I offered to pour him more, but he waved his hands at me, letting me know he was okay where he was.

“You killed my uncle Tessio. You really thought you could get away with that? You're one city away. One city,” I said, pounding my fist on the table. Things were starting to take a darker, more serious tone now.

“Who was I to know that he was your uncle? I went to Monroe because nobody comes to Monroe. Especially no one from Detroit. But it's like I said, I knew you'd find me eventually,” he said.

“He was a made man. You have to respect that. I don't care who you are. You could be Al Capone for all I care, you respect his sacrifice to the life of crime.”

“He aimed a gun at me. The son of a bitch tried to hold me and my men up,” he argued.

“Bullshit.”

“It's true. Ask any one of my men. The guy wanted our shipments. He was drunk on Jameson. What was I supposed to do?”

Jameson? Well, the old man got his facts straight. My uncle was glued to the bottle. “I don't know. Hold a sit down. I'm not a fucking boss. I'm the guy that comes to clean up messy situations. You just ran away and expected us not to retaliate. You've got some balls on you.”

“What do you want with Dahlia?” he asked suddenly.

“Don't change the fucking subject. This isn't about her. It's about you and me. I used her to get to you, old man.”

“She's a good kid. Don't hurt her on account of me,” he pleaded.

“I wouldn't dream of it,” I said. I felt bad for her. Without “Carmelo,” she would be out of a job. How was I supposed to kill the man now? Dahlia was wrapped up in his shit and that wasn't fair to her.

“So how should we settle the score?” he asked.

“They want you dead,” I said. “But I'm a man of my word. I won't kill you. Yet.”

“What's the exchange? Money?”

“Money is good, but it’s not everything. We’ll need more than that. I need information. We can talk about money later. You still in contact with your men?” I asked him.

I took one more sip of wine, straight out of the bottle, and then put it away. Feeling a little drunk, I loosened up a little. There wasn't any need to get extreme if he was going to cooperate. Back in the day, the guy’s brains would be splattered against my windows. Lately, however, I had turned into a softie. I was willing to hear him out.

“A few of them, yeah. They owe me a great deal. They can help you if you keep me alive. That goes for after you find out what you need to find out too. Got it?”

I nodded. “Sure thing. You have my word. You'll have a life. I won't even tell my guys where you are if you do me this solid,” I said, knowing that would sweeten the deal for him.

“Alright, so what do you need to know?”

I slipped him the same picture I gave André back in Toledo. “Cade. You know him?”

“Never heard of the guy.” He scratched his head.

“He took a lot of money from us. He left a lot of people high and dry. Abused his girlfriend, all in front of their child. Anyway, he owes a steep debt. It's time