fingers into his pinched eyes. “Fuck fuck fuck.”
“Um, still not understanding here,” I said, waving a hand.
“It is your call, fratello,” Massimo said.
Turo held up a hand. Paced away, seemed to have some kind of conversation with himself. Came back. Gone was the jovial man whose eyes gleamed when talking about money. Before me stood a man who controlled fates and fortunes. Lives and deaths. He spoke formally and softly. “What I’m about to tell you goes nowhere. You’ve earned this small trust with your actions for our Willow. If this comes back on us, we will know where the leak originated. Yes?”
I nodded, not completely sure I wanted in on whatever was about to be said, but I couldn’t really back out now. “You have my assurances.” I held out my hand.
He studied me for a moment longer. Shook my hand. “Amatuccis have business interests in many different countries. We do not play in some waters for personal, moral reasons. Human trafficking is one such ocean. It has come to our attention that some of our family members have tried to open this line of business abroad. They have been dealt with and made examples of. That being said, Massimo has confirmed the likelihood that the younger Cavendish fits the…preferences of one of the known buyers.” He looked at his brother. Nodded.
Massimo turned to me. “This person is known to enjoy breaking young men such as this one. This person has a reputation of going through these men rather quickly and needing an almost constant supply. It has been whispered that this person uses important colleges as hunting grounds because this person enjoys the media storm of abducting more than just ‘street trash.’ If it is the case that this older Cavendish has made arrangements for his son to be at Harvard, it could be that he has already sold his son.”
My belly curdled as what little heart I had froze. I licked my lips. “And what would the going rate be for someone like Everett Cavendish?”
Massimo grimaced. “That would depend on many factors. The biggest one being if he has an entitled attitude. This buyer came from nothing, achieved much through brute force and brutality.”
I looked at Domenico. “I’ve never met Everett. What are your thoughts?”
“Considering his father has gotten him out of almost every possible consequence, I would imagine that the younger is quite entitled and egocentric.”
I turned back to Massimo. “The price tag?”
“Between four and ten million. As I said, there are many factors.” He shrugged. Something shifted in his gaze before he looked away.
All of us were quiet as we took in the idea that John Cavendish might have potentially sold his son to a monster. On one hand I wanted to throw up. On another I wanted to beat the shit out of John and sell him to the lowest bidder. And yet on someone else’s hand, Everett had kind of landed himself in this position. Not that he deserved to be sold like a boat, but sometime, somewhere, he was going to piss off the wrong person. He should be glad the Amatuccis were willing to let the law handle his behavior at their club.
I nodded. “Okay, assuming John is trying to sell his son, what do we do about it?”
The Amatuccis just stared at me.
I felt my eyes widen as I looked at each man. “You can’t seriously be suggesting that we do nothing.”
“How are you going to prove that this is the case? There is no proof. No evidence. Hell, there is nothing but rumors from the mafia.” He gave me a look. “Where would you go? Who would you tell?”
I raised my hands. “I’m not going to share the knowledge or tell anyone. But we can’t just let the asshole get sold into slavery.”
“We are not selling him into slavery. We are doing nothing,” Turo said.
Again, I was met with three glacial expressions.
“So you tell yourselves that because you are not actively engaged in the behavior that your hands are clean of the outcomes?” There was a twisted sense of morals in there. Not good morals. But morals nonetheless.
Turo shot me a sad smile. “What is your stance on drugs? Prostitution? Gambling? You know they are being done, yet you do nothing to stop these. Where is your sense of moralistic outrage in these matters?”
I opened my mouth. Closed it. The argument that had run through my mind was illogical. Fuck. I tunneled my fingers through my hair. I sighed.