Chapter Twenty-Nine

Landon

I'm standing in the lobby of some fancy Hollywood hotel, waiting. Seems like I'm always waiting these days. But, I don't have a choice if I'm going to get what I want here. One of the bellboys is eyeballing me suspiciously, like I'm here to steal all the goddamn robes or something.

“The fuck you lookin' at?” I snap.

The bellboy turns his attention away from me quickly and goes back to doing whatever he was doing. I walk around the lobby, my nerves on edge, anxiety really fucking with my head. I'm so tense that when my cell phone rings, I nearly jump out of my skin.

I fumble with it as I pull it out of my pocket and quickly connect the call. “Yeah, hello.”

“Room six-forty-two. Now,” he says and disconnects the call.

I practically sprint to the elevator, not wanting to keep him waiting any longer than necessary – despite the fact that he'd kept me cooling my heels in the lobby for nearly a goddamn hour. But, whatever. I need this meeting and I need his help. That's all I care about right now.

I get off on the sixth floor and follow the signs down to room six-forty-two. With a nervous stutter in my gut and my pulse racing, I knock on the door. A moment later, the door opens and I'm face to face with Frank – which probably means that Jimmy the stone giant is in the room too.

Frank looks me up and down, giving me a predatory smirk and opens the door, allowing me inside. And, just as I thought, Jimmy the stone giant is sitting in a chair against the wall, as silent and his face as expressionless as ever.

The sliders are open and I see Marco standing out on the balcony, a drink in one hand, a cigarette in the other. Clearing my throat and doing my best to quell my nerves, I cross the room and step out on the balcony with him. Frank is right behind me, watching me like a hawk.

“Mr. Rossi,” I say. “I didn't expect you to come all the way out here yourself.”

“The fuck you think I was gonna do?” he snaps.

I shrug. “I don't know, send some of your guys?”

“Yeah, you ain't too bright, are you?”

I bristle at the insult, but choke it down. Getting upset isn't going to do me any good – and might just get my ass tossed off the balcony.

“So, walk me through this again,” Marco says.

I clear my throat again and do my best to meet his eyes – something I'm having difficulty doing because I'm so nervous. I've gone over my story a million different ways, rehearsed all my lines, and everything sounds plausible. I try to think of it as just another hustle. I've got to convince Marco that it's in his best interest to take out Roberto – and have him think I'm doing him a favor. All I have to do is create enough tension and distrust between the two that he'll be willing to do what I want.

“Your nephew has got a good thing going here, Mr. Rossi,” I say. “Drugs. Women. Guns. He's covering up a massive pile of profits with his construction and shit. That whole thing about going legit? It was bullshit from the start.”

“Is that so?” Marco asks.

I nod. “Yeah,” I say. “It's so.”

I watch his eyes narrow as he takes a long drag off his cigarette, blowing a thick plume of smoke into the air. I can tell by the expression on his face that he wants to believe me. He's naturally inclined to think the worst of his nephew because they're on opposite sides of the fence. My goal is simply to drive that natural wedge between them a little bit deeper.

“And why would he do that?” Marco asks.

“I don't know,” I say. “To cut you out maybe? Isn't he having you shut everything down in New York?”

Marco nods and I can see the anger in his eyes light up. He's close. Very close to going over that edge he's already dying to go over. I just need to give him a little push.

“Rob found a gold mine out here,” I say. “He's making money hand over fist and he doesn't have to deal with you or the Feds that are on your ass in New York. He's making it all look legit, but he's not doing anything differently than he did back home.”

Marco drains his drink and then hurls his glass against the wall, a snarl escaping his throat. The glass hits the wall and shatters into a million pieces.

“That little son of a bitch,” he says and then turns his eyes to me. “Are you absolutely certain of this?”

I nod quickly. “I'm very certain of it, Mr. Rossi,” I say. “In fact, I know that he's even getting into sex trafficking – ”

“Wait, he what?”

“Sex trafficking,” I say. “He's selling girls into the sex trade. It's an absolute cash cow of a business. And believe me, he's taking full advantage of it.”

“That doesn't sound like him,” Marco says, a light of suspicion in his eyes.

“Yeah, well, cutting you out of the family business didn't sound like him either, did it?” I ask. “At least, until it did.”

“Uh huh,” he says, that light of suspicion not dimming. “And why are you coming to me with this? What's in it for you? Because believe me, I know your ass doesn't do anything if there's nothing in it for you. So, what's your play here?”

“He took something from us,” I say, doing my best to sound pained and miserable.

“Took what?” he asks and takes another drag off his smoke, blowing it straight at me.

“A girl,” I say. “The girl that I was going to turn over to Max.”

“Why the fuck did he do that?”

“Because he's going to sell her to someone else and get an even bigger payday. One that you will get nothing from,” I say.

“Bullshit,” Marco says. “You fuckin' with me? Because I swear to God, if I came all the way out here and you're fuckin' with me, I'm gonna cut your balls off.”

I reach into my pocket and freeze when I see that Frank has his gun on me. He'd moved so quickly, I didn't even see him draw. But, there he is, his gun pointed square at my face. I hold my hands up and do my best to avoid making any sudden movements.

“Wallet,” I say. “Front pocket.”

Leaving one hand raised, I slowly move my other hand down to my pocket. I pull out my wallet and show it to Frank – only then, does he lower his pistol. I notice that he doesn't holster it though. He keeps it in his hand, hanging at his side.

I open my wallet and pull a picture of Harper and me out. Handing it over to Marco, I point at it.

“That's the girl,” I say. “And that son of a bitch took her from me.”

Marco whistles. “She's hot. Damn. I might have to give her a throw myself,” he says and then seeing the look on my face, holds up his hands. “I'm kidding. She will make us a shitload if she is as untouched as you said.”

“She belongs to us,” I say, taking the picture back from him. “And Rob is trying to take that away.”

Marco nods and takes another drag off his cigarette and exhales, looking off into the distance like he's lost in thought.

“So, what is it you get out of this?” he asks finally.

“I want you to take Roberto out,” I say. “I want you to kill him. In exchange, you obviously get all of his business ties out here. You get to move into the gold mine he's already tapping.”

“Uh huh,” he says. “And like I said you get what?”

“My girl,” I say. “And I want my debt wiped out and a hundred grand on top of it.”

He raises his eyebrows and smirks. “You got some balls on you, I'll give you that.”

I shrug. “Given what you're going to make out here when you take over,” I say, “it's a drop in the bucket. Maybe even less.”

Marco looks over at Frank, who gives him a shrug. I know he wants to jump at this deal, but he can't look too eager in front of me. Marco is all about saving face and maintaining his image. He needs me to think he's doing me a huge favor.

Finally, he lets out a long, dramatic sigh and drops his cigarette, crushing it beneath his shoe. “Okay then,” he says. “You get a hundred k, the girl, and your debt is clear. And you don't show your face in New York – or LA – ever again. We good?”

“We're good,” I say. “I just want the money and my girl and you'll never hear my name again.”

“Better not,” he says.

I leave the hotel feeling a bloom of hope in my chest – maybe, just maybe, I'm going to get out of this and be in an even better position than when I walked into it.