CHAPTER 7
ROMEO

“Who the hell do you think you are?”

I sighed and shook my head as the two men beside me drew their guns.

“This was a deal my father had on the table before he died,” I said. “And now that I’ve taken over, we are no longer in need of your shipment.”

“I don’t give a damn if your daddy’s dead,” the man said. “He made a deal, and we shook on it. You owe us the money, or you owe us your life.”

“I owe you nothing. You made that deal with my father. It isn’t my fault there wasn’t a physical contract in place. When my father died, the deal he made with you died with him. That’s the price of doing business by trust.”

“Then maybe we’ll take your money and shoot you anyway,” another man said. “That would most definitely not be in your best interest,” I said evenly.

Of course, my father would’ve engaged in some backwoods shady shit during his reign. Shaking hands? No physical contracts? Word of mouth? Had the man been nuts? I was standing with two of my bodyguards staring down the barrel of three separate guns held by desperate men, and the only thing I wanted was for them to find some other fucking buyer for their weapons. That was it. There were plenty of traffickers in New York City that would kill for the shipment that had just arrived.

I didn’t need them, and all they had to do was acknowledge the deal gone bad and walk away from it.

No one had to get hurt.

“You’ll pay the two hundred and fifty thousand dollars you owe us, or you’ll die,” the man said.

I heard my bodyguards cock their guns as I held up my hand. They whipped their eyes toward me, looking at me as if I’d lost my mind. I was serious when I told my mother I wanted this operation to be legitimate again. That meant we would obtain any guns we needed for any reason legally, not shipped in from overseas with the fucking serial numbers scratched off from the metal. That was my father’s business. Not mine.

And I wasn’t going to be strong-armed into his dirty deals.

Which meant I had to keep a cool head.

“Gentleman. I’ve got a check in my back pocket for twenty thousand dollars to pay you for your troubles and to get you by until you find another buyer for the guns. I know you can find them in the city. I’m sure you’ve got plenty of clients,” I said.

“You’ll take the guns, and you’ll be thankful,” the man said.

“I don’t want to buy the guns. My father did, but he’s dead. And I have no use for them. You don’t have a paper contract so I can’t confirm the amount you’re asking for or even the fact that the deal took place.”

“Are you calling me a liar?” the man asked.

He thrust his gun out further forcing my bodyguards back into attack mode.

“Listen to me. I’m trying to find an avenue that benefits all of us, and you’re making it very hard for me to do so. These men at my side are ordered to protect me at any cost. Don’t make them do that. Be reasonable.”

“Reasonable?” the man asked. “There ain’t no reason when it comes to buying guns. You took your father’s place, which means you inherited his deals and his dirty work. Take the fucking guns and give us our money, or you’ll be shark bait for my son’s crabbing venture.”

“Shark bait for crabs. Got it,” I said. “Guys, could you please lower your weapons?”

“Sorry, Mr. Bianchi. No can do,” my bodyguard said.

“Too volatile,” the other man said.

“Look, I have no need for the guns. Would you pay a quarter of a million dollars for something you didn’t need any longer?” I asked.

“Your father had a use for them. I suggest you start there,” the man said.

“And I already told you, I’m no longer seeking out those avenues of business. You can take the check for twenty thousand for the inconvenience I’ve caused you, or you can walk away with nothing. The choice is yours,” I said.

“As far as I can tell, we have three guns to your two. We’ll take both of your guards out before you can grab a gun to point at us. I know you’ve got the money, Bianchi. You can turn around and sell the damn guns for all we care to recoup what you lost. But I’m not fucking leaving without the money I was promised.”

Gun runners were always so unwavering in their demands. I hated doing business with them, and I hated it when my father did. But I knew why he did. They cut him a fantastic deal on the massive number of guns and the quality he always obtained. I got it. But it wasn’t needed for what I was trying to do with the operation. I wanted to rule by respect, not by fear. But as I stared at the three men in front of me, I knew what had to be done. I didn't want to do it. I promised myself I wouldn’t get my hands dirty unless I absolutely had to. But these men weren’t letting up. I wasn’t paying them for guns I didn’t need, and since there was no paper trail, nobody would ever trace the weapons back to the deal my father made with them. I didn’t see any other way out of this mess that didn’t end in someone’s death.

And if I was going to turn my family around, it couldn’t be my death.

“I don’t want this ending badly,” I said.

“Then cough up the cash,” the man said.

“There’s no sort of deal we can come to where we all walk away happy?” I asked. “Because I don’t need those guns. They’ll simply sit here and wait for the police to trace them back to you.”

“Oh, you’ll take them. And we’ll take our money. You’ll get the guns off this damn dock and out of our sight, and then we can talk about doing another deal.”

“There will never be another deal, gentleman. Let’s get that very clear right now,” I said.

“Your father was a good customer of ours. We greased his palms, and he greased ours. We have no intention of letting our connections to your family go.”

There it was.

The straw that broke my back.

They could force these guns on me and take my money. They could threaten my life if I didn’t give it to them. They could even take their best shot at trying to take me out before my bodyguards pumped their bodies full of lead.

But they would never hold my family ransom.

I promised to dig them out of that life, and I wasn’t backing down from that promise.

“Okay,” I said. “Then you can have your money.”

The thugs looked at one another, seemingly happy with the choice I had made. I heard them utter a few derogatory comments projected specifically at me. Something about being a pussy compared to my father. I bit down on my tongue and walked around behind my car, then opened the trunk.

But instead of pulling out a bag of cash, I reached for my weapon.

I closed my eyes briefly and told myself if was them or me. I was working too damn hard to get my family out of this shit to let this go down this way. I stepped from behind my car and handled the situation the only way I knew to make it go away for good. I sighed and shook my head as I dropped the weapon back into the trunk of the car.

I was disgusted with myself, but they gave me no choice. I pulled out my wallet and flipped it open, then slipped the twenty thousand dollar check out. I had it written and everything. Ready for them to cash it and be on their way. I ripped it to shreds and jammed it back into my pocket, then folded my wallet and stuck it away for another time.

“Come along, gentleman. It’s time to get home,” I said.

“Yes, sir,” one of them said.

“Should we call this in?” the other one asked.

“Just get me home. I’ll deal with it,” I said.

I wiped my hands of the cool metal texture before I slid into the back of the car. I pulled a burner phone from my pocket and dialed the non-emergency police number, then waited until we were on a back road outside of the city before I called. I left an anonymous tip about the shooting and how I thought I heard four or five different gunshots go off.

Then I hung up the phone, took out the battery, and tossed the remnants of it into the water.

I leaned back in my seat and tossed the battery onto the floorboard of the car. I watched as the city passed me by, the car driving me closer to home. That wasn’t the first time a deal my father had dragged this family into had gone south. I took diplomatic approaches with every other one of them, but gun runners were stubborn. Shaking on something was equivalent to a paper contract. But not in my world. I grimaced as I thought about the three bodies lying there on the dock. I still wasn’t sure I’d done the right thing.

Part of me still thought I could’ve talked them away from the ledge.

“Mr. Martine.”

“What is it?” I asked.

“Are you hungry?”

“Not particularly. But if you are, feel free to swing by somewhere and get yourself something. My treat.”

“I was actually hoping your mother had some leftover lasagna if it’s not asking too much.”

I grinned as I shook my head. My mother’s lasagna was known all over town. At the very least, it was known all over the family. If there were leftovers from a meal she cooked, they were never in the fridge for long. She made her food with love and care, and way too much butter and sugar for any normal human being.

“We had some last night, and I think she made a separate dish that didn’t even get touched,” I said. “Drive me home. I’ll let you guys in, and you can have at it.”

“Thanks, Mr. Mart—”

“No,” I said.

I looked up and eyed my bodyguard heavily through the rearview mirror.

“Thank you, Romeo,” the man said.

“Better. Now speed up. Talking about my mother’s lasagna has made me hungry.”