Vittorio needed to move around and listen to the conversations. The sale of drugs was always going to be a problem in clubs the world over, but the Saldis blatantly selling in the Ferraro nightclub was going to start a war no one wanted, and it didn’t make sense.
Vittorio stayed in the shadows and moved as close as possible in order to hear the conversation over the pounding beat of the music. He recognized Ale Sarto and Lando Gori, Miceli Saldi’s top enforcers. If either or both showed up at your door, chances were you weren’t going to survive the encounter. They were dressed in suits and looked sharp and handsome, but Vittorio had seen their work. There was nothing remotely civilized or benevolent about what they did to human beings. They wouldn’t be sent on some small errand. Not ever.
“She’s worth every cent of the money,” the stranger in disheveled clothes assured. He twitched a couple of times but kept direct eye contact.
Anyone sitting with Sarto and Gori should have been intimidated, especially a two-bit pimp who seemed to be talking about his prostitute.
Ale Sarto hitched forward. “You’re pushing your luck, Haydon. Her service is for your past debts, not any new ones you incur.”
Vittorio suppressed a groan of annoyance. The Saldis had stooped to an all-time low, negotiating for prostitutes in the Ferraro Club. He didn’t turn away, his gut still screaming at him. Nothing really made sense about the small exchange he’d overheard. Top-level enforcers like Sarto and Gori didn’t get involved in such mundane matters as acquiring another prostitute for the Saldi stables.
“I can get her to see reason and go along with you without any trouble,” Haydon responded. “She’ll do whatever I tell her.” He poured confidence into his voice. “That’s got to be worth another two hundred and fifty thousand.”
Lando Gori drew back and pinned Haydon with cold, dead eyes. “You’re really pushing your luck. We’re taking her tonight, and this new crap you’re trying to pull is going to get you killed. Take the deal wiping out your past debt for the woman’s services and walk away. We don’t need you. We can pick her up anytime and just cut you out of the transaction altogether.”
Haydon sat back immediately and threw his hands into the air as if in surrender. “Fine. Fine. But at least talk to him about the possibility of giving me a two-hundred-andfifty-thousand-dollar credit. I brought the deal to him.”
Lando stood up, ending the conversation. “You didn’t bring the deal to him, Haydon. He gave you no choice. The woman, or we break every bone in your body. Personally, I think it should be both, but he’s a compassionate man.”
“Where is she?” Ale Sarto demanded, standing as well.
Haydon flashed a grin, revealing dark, stained teeth. “She wasn’t as cooperative as I would have liked, and I didn’t think she’d sit through negotiations, so I stashed her somewhere safe.”
“You’re a lying asshole, Haydon. You just told us she’d do anything for you. Now she’s not being cooperative. Which is it?” Lando snapped.
Vittorio stiffened. That didn’t sound like the woman was privy to what these men had said. Worse, it didn’t sound as if she was in any way cooperating.
“You’d better not be playing games, Haydon,” Ale warned. “Let’s go. I want to see her right now.”
Haydon’s cocky smile faded as he got to his feet as well. “You don’t understand. Grace would do just about anything for me, but she can get stubborn. Sometimes she needs a little persuasion.”
Lando Gori reached out and jerked Haydon close. “Stop stalling and get walking. We can be very persuasive if the situation calls for it.”
Vittorio rode the shadows down the winding stairs to the main dance floor, keeping the three men in sight at all times. They were clearly headed for the nearest exit. He wove his way through the shadows, choosing to leave through a private door that spilled him into the darkest corner of the parking lot. The reserved family parking was just in front of him, empty of course, because he’d ridden the shadows there, not wanting anyone to know he was around.
The three men he followed were halfway across the parking lot to his left. They stopped beside an old, beat-up Honda. Haydon reached down and unlatched the trunk.
Vittorio’s breath hissed out between his teeth. He wasn’t a man to get angry. It wasn’t in his nature. Ordinarily, he was the peacemaker, the solution-finder. He watched as Haydon jumped back. A small ball of whirling fury exploded out of the truck, hitting the man directly in the chest.
The overhead light was out, something not tolerated in any of the Ferraro parking garages or lots, so the figures were no more than darker silhouettes as he neared them.
“What is wrong with you, Haydon? Get your hands off me.”
The woman shoved at the man, but he caught both her wrists and yanked hard. “Stop, Grace. Just listen for a minute. I’m in trouble.”
“You’re always in trouble. Always, Haydon. I told you the last time if you kept gambling you were on your own. I can’t take out any more loans. I can’t work any more hours. You messed up, you’re going to have to fix it yourself.”
Vittorio’s breath left his lungs in a long rush of shock. Something tight in his chest loosened. Someplace vulnerable. Someplace guarded and protected. He pressed his hand tightly over the spot, feeling as if that voice had been a key, fitting perfectly into the lock and turning it before he had a chance to react—and he had lightning-fast reflexes.
“I’m done with you. With your gambling and debts. I’m out of it, Haydon. I mean it. You’ve had more chances than anyone in life should expect to have.” Grace threw her hands into the air and turned away from him.
She was small. Vittorio would have been surprised if she was much more than five feet or five one. She had a figure, full breasts and a very nice ass on her. He appreciated that. He could see why these men would be interested in her. Her skin was very pale, and her hair was a true red. She had it pulled back in a long ponytail. There was something about that thick length of hair that got to him. The woman, as small as she was, standing valiantly in the face of the threat the Saldi enforcers presented, sent heat rushing through his veins.
Lando blocked her exit, stepping directly in front of her, a solid mass of muscle. “You’re going to have to come with us. The car is right over there.” He pointed to a town car with tinted windows.
She shook her head. “I’m not going anywhere with you. I have nothing to do with his debts. Nothing at all.”
“You’re his sister. Family pays debts.”
“I’m not his sister,” Grace denied, sending a furious look at Haydon. “We were raised in the same foster home. That’s our connection. Whatever he’s into, he’s in it alone.”
“Really?” Ale whipped out a gun, pressing it against Haydon’s temple. “You want me to kill him right now? That’s the second option.”
“Gracie.” Haydon squeaked her name.
Vittorio could see Haydon wasn’t worried in the least. He didn’t believe Ale would kill him. Vittorio knew better.
Grace froze when she saw the gun, turning slowly toward Ale. “What are you doing? Are you crazy?” She whispered it. “Put that away.”