Yes. That’s what I’m gonna do. A tear tracks down Jonny’s chubby cheeks. He knows what will happen next. Torture of the worse kind for talking to me and he’ll have to beg for death.
Falcone’s people would have been watching. That’s how it works in our world. People know shit. They know when shit’s happening and when the silent speak.
They’ll know what it means for me to have left Jonny alive.
Without question the men take Jonny away. His sobs are the last thing I hear as they carry him out the door.
The rest of the men stare back at me, wondering what I’m gonna do to them.
Jonny was the manager. He’d worked for the family for close to five years with no problems until he made one. The problem I’m having here though is I don’t know who else was involved and this shit.
The shipment was a two-million-dollar contract. My first real gig since my cousin, Vincent, took over as boss of the family.
It was my first real gig with Angelo Tripoli, a long-standing client who’s been with Giordanos Inc. since it started.
He hired us to ship a ten-pack crate of small arms worth three million to Italy. The men stole a crate containing three hundred weapons whose value is close to a million. The guns are a new generation of squad weapons valued at nine grand per unit. Angelo has a deal with an army captain to supply him with a certain amount.
I asked for more responsibility in the business. I actually wanted it, and this was my time to shine and show I could handle things. It was my turn to show my father I could be just as efficient as my brother, Georgiou, when it came to business.
Georgiou used to take care of the warehouses and the preparation of the shipments. That role passed to me, along with handling the contracts for some of the VIP clients after Vincent took over. Then this shit happened.
Fifteen men look at me. Some have been here longer than Jonny. What is better, keep them and risk more shit, or something else?
“The rest of you are fired. I’ll pay you for the next four months.” That’s right up to the end of the year. Money that will come out of my own pocket. “Get out,” I tell them, and they walk without any argument.
They know not to argue or ask me shit. It’s clear I can’t trust anyone here. I don’t have proof, but there would have to be at least one or two more people involved to pull off a stunt like what we saw on the cameras.
I turn to my five street guys who came to back us up next. “You guys get on the street and start looking for Falcone.”
They nod and leave.
I wait for everyone to clear out before I call the cleanup crew for the dead, then turn back to Salvatore who has a crude expression on his face.
“Christian, what are you gonna do now?” He narrows his eyes as he assesses me.
There’s so much to fix here and I just made it worse by firing all the staff. Staff who should be prepping shipments for our other clients.
The ships are based in New York, but all Chicago shipments come here first to be stored in these warehouses. They’re prepped in a special way which assures our customers we can make anything look legit, even a crate load of illicit guns not even the army has zero access to yet.
“I’ll figure it out.”
“There’s a lot at work here,” Salvatore points out.
“I’ll do it. I have to get the guns back. Now we have a name I can work with,” I answer.
Salvatore’s jaw tenses. That’s not a good sign. It means he knows getting the guns back is going to be impossible.
I couldn’t agree more because they could be anywhere.
“Christian, this is going to be really difficult.” He sighs, running a hand over his beard. The seriousness returns to his face. “Vincent’s gonna be mad as fuck about this.”
“I know. I do know.” It’s not just Vincent I have to worry about though. I also have Georgiou and my father.
“I have to call him. He’ll be expecting a report.” Salvatore gazes at me with worry in his eyes.
“I know. It’s fine,” I answer, understanding. “I’ll check in with him later too. I should drop by the club, sort shit out there for the exhibition, then get back to this. It’s gonna be a long night.”
He nods his agreement. “How about I go with you and we can continue investigating together.”
“No. You’ve been with me all day,” I point out.
“Business is business.”
“You have a family to take care of, Salvatore. I got this.” He has a wife and two kids. The youngest is six months old. Yes, business is business, but he needs to get home to his family. “I’ll take care of tonight and fill you in tomorrow.”
“Okay. Call me at the first sign of trouble.”
“I will,” I assure him.
I admit I’m gonna need help, but I just need to be by myself for a little while to figure out what actually happened here in regard to Falcone. I also want to show I still have a handle on the club.
I own The Dark Odyssey with Georgiou, Salvatore, and his brothers Gabe and Nick. With the change around, I’m there more than the others. I’m supposed to be there every night this week. I have a new attraction that’s supposed to bring in a shit load of money. Tonight is the opening night. Being a sex club, The Dark Odyssey brings us in a nightly fortune, but with the attractions in the mix the financial possibilities are endless.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Salvatore says.
“Yeah. Thanks for backing me up,” I tell him.
“No worries.” One last nod and he leaves.
As the door closes, I look around the employee-less warehouse. Shit, this is so fucked up. Falcone wormed his way into our company and stole from us. It shouldn’t have happened. I’m gonna have to replace the workers first thing in the morning. Before I see Vincent.
Pulling in a ragged breath, I leave. I jump in my car and head to the club.
Ideas flow through my mind as I drive. I don’t even know where to start tracking a fucker like Falcone. Like others he’s been trying to have a piece of the pie for years. This time he got to us by a chance that came about when Peter died.
He’d been the head manager of the warehouses for twenty years. His passing allowed the devils to come out to play. He died three months ago, and I made the mistake of putting Jonny in charge. And that is why this is my fault.
Jonny was supposed to be temporary while I looked for a replacement for Peter. Our long-term managers come with a different type of skill and a level we can trust that Jonny didn’t have.
Peter was the best we had. I didn’t replace him right away because it was hard to fill his shoes and I thought I was doing good by allowing Jonny to cover because he knew the job. I even gave the fucker more money. By trusting too much I screwed myself over, not knowing wolves were lying in wait to take their chance to fuck with me.
News must have travelled of the gun shipment. My cameras picked up the three men I killed packing the crate in an unmarked vehicle. The only thing Salvatore and I could do while we watched the shit happening was wait. If we’d done anything else, they would have fled, and we wouldn’t have gotten Falcone’s name. We knew the men could only be taking guns like that to sell to someone powerful. They’re not arms you sell on the street.
I glance at myself in the mirror and wince when I see blood on my collar. Great, just fucking great. Bad enough I had to beat a fucker up and get blood on my hands, metaphorically speaking, but the proof of the shit is there and not how I want to make my presence known at the club tonight.