◆ The Team-Up ◆

◆ MILES ◆

"Così avrà l'immunità davanti alla legge."

[So he will have legal immunity.]

"Sono abbastanza certo che sia impossibile, Lorenzio."

[I’m pretty sure it’s impossible, Lorenzio.]

I squinted at the guy sitting in front of us, doubting his words, my patience thinning out.  Besides the mother of all bitching headaches ending my long day on a shitty note, now I had to put up with an intruder that threatened to make my day even shittier.

What he brought with him also posed a threat to my dwindling peace of mind and my plan of having at least six hours of sleep tonight.  With Mykaela beside me.  As I stayed put beside Ricchar, his full attention centered on the guy sitting in front of his desk and rocking restlessly in the chair opposite mine.

Our prolonged silence was meant to convey distrust, but I could tell our late-night visitor didn't care for our misgivings.  Perhaps Lorenzio didn't expect me to hear about his brother buying out strip clubs all over Italy and France.

Dammit.  Was I that naïve in everyone's eyes?  Did they all think I was the dumbest, stupidest Falco to ever exist?  They probably thought a guy like me wouldn't survive a day in the filthy world of organized crime.

"Lorenzio, forse pensi che sia stupido e cieca."  I kept up a straight face as I eyed the guy in front of us.  My eyes stang and needed proper rest now, but Enzo's presence meant I had to stay up till we sorted out whatever he wanted to talk over with me and Ricchar.

[Lorenzio, maybe you think I’m stupid and blind.]

Enzo squinted at me while his thick brows creased bit by bit, as if he was having trouble comprehending what I just said.  "E tu pensi che io abbia perso la mia oggettività?"

[And you think I’ve lost my objectivity?]

"This is gettin' nowhere."  I shook my head slightly to show my tedium.  This guy had better give real answers after that shaky start.  "I don't know why we even bother, man."

As if offended now, Enzo crossed his arms and scowled at my dismissive words.  "Maxim, why exactly do you hate me so much?"

I scoffed and gave him a sarcastic grin.  "You act like you're so clean and uninvolved, for starters."

At that, the Tomassini heir sat back and nodded weakly, seeming discouraged by where our conversation was headed.  "Here I honestly hoped, you two would help. Or try, at least."

"Not sayin' our clan has a better moral compass, but I don't think you didn't know horseshit about your brother's underground side projects. If y'know what I mean..."

"They never trust me with the details. Alright?"  Enzo frowned and sighed.  "Pa says I'm too sentimental for the job."  Hastily, he raked his fingers through his wavy, fairly tousled brown hair.  "Leo always thinks I'll just fuck it all up."

"Do you honestly wanna save those poor girls? Or are you just bullshitting your way out of this?"  Ricchar stared blankly at the disgusting, horrific photos of Leandro's most recent victims. All young women, all butchered to their untimely deaths.

Enzo laid out the spate of photos on Ricchar's desk just minutes ago, perhaps as an attempt to back up his story.   He sounded like he just expected us to believe everything he said, and the spine-chilling pieces of evidence he'd brought here tonight.

The appalling photographs of dead girls bathing in a pool of blood lay on a pile on Ricchar's desk.  Some looked no older than 18.  Enzo had brought them as proof, something he said we could use to put his mentally unstable brother behind bars.

The gesture caught me by surprise, and I could tell Ricchar also didn't expect to see such gruesome images tonight.  The slight frown on his face hadn't faded from the second Lorenzio walked into the room.  Perhaps the photos of those poor girls reminded Ricchar of what happened to Cloe because of his previous involvement with drug dealers here in Italy.

I sat still and eyed our guest.  After everything I'd found out about the Tomassinis, I just didn't think Lorenzio had any conscience left.  But, he said he believed in God.  Karma.  The Lord's wrath.  "A practicing Catholic" like his late mother, he'd said.

Even though we'd never been friends—I even tried to bash his face in a few months ago—now I felt like I had to give the guy the benefit of the doubt.

Enzo kept rocking his leg absentmindedly while he slouched in his seat.  He seemed genuinely perturbed by the things he'd said he witnessed last night.  "I just want to stop all of this," the guy said with a long sigh that somewhat eased the bulging furrow in between his brows.

"Why?" I muttered after a quiet moment.

"They're just misguided children," he sighed, his tone much somber now.  "They don't deserve to be treated like animals."   Enzo slouched again.  With another frown, he stared at me and Ricchar.  "I'm not a murderer."

"Good for you," I mumbled, half-convinced.

Enzo ignored my retort and maintained his scowl.  His brows scrunched again.  They always looked darker than his jaw-length hair.  "I'm not claiming to be innocent, but I'm nothing like my brother."

"Right. Good to know."  I tried not to make a face.

From what I had witnessed, Pappa was no different from the older Tomassini heir—except my father wasn't always that violent towards women.  Or maybe my brain just repressed most of the bad memories.  Maybe time had made me forget most of my father's crimes and preference for young mistresses over the years.

"He's out of control. It needs to be dealt with. I got no other agenda."  Enzo clasped the armrest, as if aggravated by our mostly suspicious reactions.  "If you won't help me, I'm going to Interpol.  And the DEA.  I can't promise your entire family won't end up on their hit list."

Oh. A threat now? I snickered at his poor attempt at blackmail. He must be drunk.  "You came all the way down here just to threaten us? Need I remind you whose territory you barged into?"

He let out a long sigh.  "Cazzo."

"Thought so."

"I just want him to stop.  If he's not in prison or dead, he'll keep doing this."  With a clenched fist, Enzo pointed to the photos showing his brother's most recent victims.

"He's still your flesh and blood." Ricchar sustained his calm, almost droning tone as he kept his attention on our uninvited guest for the night. Actually, it was almost midnight, and it was clear Ricchar wanted to go to bed now as well.  He yawned out loud while we watched Lorenzio lose composure by the minute.

"No. That's not my brother anymore." Enzo reclined and stared up at the ceiling, his voice thin and shaky, his intakes of breath audible.

"Question is," Ricchar said with a pout and fairly creased brows.  The chandelier's brightness emphasized the curls in his hair and his rather curious expression.  "What are you willing to do about it?"

Lorenzio seemed to heed the question when he took a moment of silence, as if pondering the right thing to say.

Ricchar shrugged coolly.  "If we do this, you'll end up in court yourself. You'll be thoroughly investigated as well."  Ricchar sighed and sat back in his swivel chair.  "Sure—my guys are skilled, but a lot of things could go wrong."

"Those girls were drugged up. Then he slaughtered them just for trying to escape the warehouse." Enzo lowered his voice, now staring abstractedly at the messy pile of photos on Ricchar's desk.  "I've got more evidence, Charr."

"Bet you do," Ricchar mumbled with a smirk.  "Ever talk to the cops about those girls?"

"I'd rather kill him myself than leave it to the police. He owns cops, lawyers, judges."

"You? You're no killer, ragazzino."  Ricchar chuckled for a second.  He was talking to Lorenzio as if he was talking to a boy, but he wasn't even a decade older than Enzo.  "You tried to talk him out of it?"

"Is that a joke?" Enzo squinted at him.  "I thought you've met my brother."

"Twice. He was quite polite." Ricchar laughed a bit.  His deep voice already sounded hoarse from lack of sleep.  "So? Prison?  Or coffin?"

I watched as the two took the conversation to a conclusion.  I enjoyed how Lorenzio squirmed in his seat, as though deeply disturbed by our topic of interest.  The glass of red wine in front of him was almost empty now.

His anxious and panic-stricken behavior was such a stark contrast to his usually cheery, self-assured demeanor.  And now he expected we'd automatically have an immediate solution to his problems?  The guy clearly hadn't thought this through.  Fuckin' amateur.

"Because I can arrange either." Ricchar yawned again and glimpsed his pricey-looking gold watch.  "Just need a lot of information from you. Real-time.  Exceptionally detailed."

"It's not just the drugs. Or his ambition." Lorenzio weakly shook his head while clenching his fist on his lap. "I just want to keep the family business running—with my conscience intact."  The guy drank the rest of his wine in one gulp.  "What's left of it, anyway."

"Minus the prostitution rings, the drugs and human trafficking, you mean," Ricchar mumbled.

"Chuck him into therapy," I cut in, snickering at the image in my head.  Then my phone beeped and buzzed in my pocket.  I checked the notifications.  I just got a new text from Mykaela.

-

New message

From: Mykaela

"Can't sleep. Let's talk a bit? Please?"

Today 11:55PM

-

"I can't talk to him anymore. He just wants to strangle me every time I try." Enzo sat back and repressed a sigh with his palm.

I looked up from my phone, ignoring his muted response.  He must've thought we were willing to listen to his rants like his number one shrink on speed dial.

"Alright. Prison route for now." Ricchar took his phone out, too.

"It's got to stop now, Charr.  It's his worst addiction.   I can't keep pretending I know nothing."

"Why don't you just turn him in for now? Gather enough evidence." Ricchar shrugged coolly.  "Charges might stick for a while."

"The police? Were you listening to anything I've said?" Enzo slapped his forehead, his tone just incredulous.  "Those bastards won't—"  He swore in his native tongue. "Every damn time I try to talk him out of it, I end up an inch closer to my deathbed.  I'm lucky he let me leave Florence last night in one piece."

"It's that bad, huh?" I smirked at the guy.

Enzo seemed like the type of guy who couldn't even make up half of his story.  Also, the photos and stolen videos of Leandro torturing those poor prostitutes looked genuine.  At least to me.  One of Enzo's bodyguards had recorded the videos without Leandro's knowledge, apparently.

"He's ten times more dangerous and paranoid when he's fucking high. Then, I guess, he takes it out on those girls."

"High? The new product? Odiax?"  Ricchar questioned in a rather amused tone.  "Did you warn him? It's highly addictive. Even more potent to me than grade-A blow."

"Warn him? I never even heard of that shit until I found him slaughtering that poor girl." Enzo covered his face with his fists, hitting his forehead repeatedly as if truly remorseful for his brother's actions.

"Calm down. It's not your fault."

"I could've stopped him, Charr."

"Eh, you didn't know."

"Those poor girls." Enzo's voice cracked.  "Fuck!"

"Enough drama for tonight. We'll deal with your psychotic brother," I sighed,  "after I talk my father out of selling his soul to the devil. Again."  I got up to stretch my back and tired legs.  "I'm out."

The long day had punished my every muscle, and now my head felt like it was breaking apart.  Good Lord...  I needed to shove painkillers down my throat again.

My last pill-popping session was days ago.  I had been trying to refrain from self-medicating to test my limits and toughen my pain threshold.  But tonight's migraine just felt worse than the usual.

"Can I stay here? Just for tonight?" Lorenzio murmured after glancing nervously at me and Ricchar.  "I'll leave first thing.  I'm just fuckin' exhausted." Enzo stayed put in the chair and reclined, obviously unsure of his next move.

"Sleep it off.  Ofelia will take you to the guest room upstairs," Ricchar told our troubled guest before he looked at me with a mild frown.  "Go check on Mykaela. She's asking if you're with me."

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