The sack finally reached the front Zmeu, and the monsters tossed it in front of the gate before several of them scrambled to pull the inner gate doors closed again. A loud, resounding thunk followed as they secured the door.
James could get through that. Hell, I could.
James jogged over and picked up the bag, then opened it and pulled out a musical instrument with a two-tone wooden body. Despite being hundreds of years old, the varnish gleamed like new under the sunlight streaming through the trees around them.
“What do you know?” Shay smiled. “Sometimes people learn their lesson, or at least dragon-men do.”
James tossed the instrument back in the bag. “There’s hope for the fucking world yet. You still have the tracker to get us back to the car, or will I need to cut more naked-chick deals?”
“I’ve got the tracker.” Shay sheathed her sword. “No more naked chicks today for you besides me.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Trey parked his truck across the street from the huge gated mansion, his phone to his ear. “You got the address, Vic?”
“Yes,” Victoria responded. “I still think you should have let me come. You didn’t mention earlier that you were walking straight into Paul Esposito’s mansion. I was thinking this was going to be you meeting someone at a restaurant, not you going into a Mafia don’s house by yourself.”
“I don’t even know if this shit has anything to do with him or if this is just where they wanted me.”
Trey was suspicious of the entire situation, given that Paul’s son had tried to forge an alliance with the agency through him not all that long before, but pushing too hard the opposite direction risked causing trouble. He still wasn’t sure why he was there or who he was meeting, but he assumed this was just a flashier effort by Marco Esposito to convince Trey of the importance of a Brownstone-Esposito pact.
“I didn’t know where I was going until I checked the address.” Trey snorted. “Besides, sometimes it’s about making a statement, and the Families understand and respect statements.”
“And what statement are you making?”
Trey turned his engine off. “That the Brownstone Agency ain’t afraid of no one. Besides, if this was about wasting my ass, they would have already taken the chance. They had to know that even if I didn’t bring no one here, I’d be telling people. And with James’ rep, if I disappear inside some mobster’s mansion, he’d be kicking the door in the next day and demanding to know where the fuck I was.”
“That’s true,” Victoria replied. “But make sure you’re wearing your gloves in case this turns into a shitstorm. All you have to do is make it out of there if it turns into one.”
Trey glanced down at his already-gloved hands with a grin. “I’ll make sure to do that. If I don’t give you a call in an hour, come a-knockin’ with the boys.”
Victoria chuckled darkly. “Yeah, that will send a message. Talk to you soon.”
Trey ended the call. He slipped the phone back into his pocket, stepped out of his truck, and walked over to the gate. Bright lights lit up the vast lawn, and a single huge multi-tier fountain lay in the center.
I wonder if I’m being a dumb motherfucker about this. Maybe the Mafia wants to make a statement by taking me out.
Trey snorted. If they did, the Espositos, if not all the local Families, would end up joining the Harriken in hell.
He looked for a callbox, but the gate rumbled and opened.
“Looks like an invitation to me.” Trey adjusted his tie and smoothed his lapels, then slipped through the gate and onto the marble walkway. Small lights lining the walkway on either side illuminated the path that led up to and around both sides of the fountain before ending at the front door.
The Espositos maintained a nice lawn and fountain. Trey would give them that, even if they seemed allergic to the idea of having any trees around.
He checked around for any obvious snipers but saw no one. When he’d passed the fountain, the front door opened. Marco, along with several other men, stepped outside with polite smiles on their faces. They might have guns on them, but they didn’t have them out.
Not like they’d cap my ass outside where some drone could take pictures of them. There are statements, and then there’s just being a dumb motherfucker.
Trey arrived at the porch and gave Marco a polite nod. “What’s up, Marco?”
Just me meeting a bunch of mobsters like it ain’t no thing.
“I’m glad you could join us, Trey,” Marco responded. “I wanted to personally deliver the invitation earlier, but I was taking care of some Family business.”
Trey gestured toward the house. “Why all the big mystery and shit? When I was asking earlier, your guys wouldn’t tell me.”
“That’s my father’s doing. He likes to mess with people’s heads.” Marco grinned. “I hope you’re not too pissed.”
So this is about Paul Esposito, huh?
Trey shrugged. “I’m here, ain’t I?”
Marco opened the door and motioned Trey inside. “You’ll be meeting with my father.” He held out his hand. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to give me your gun. That’s another rule of my father’s. Only Family can keep their guns around him.”
Trey pulled out his gun and handed it to Marco. The mobster’s gaze rested on Trey’s gloved hands for a moment and a questioning expression spread over his face.
“I gave you my gun,” Trey emphasized. “That don’t mean I’m gonna do whatever you ask. You asked me to show up, not the other damned way around.” He removed the gloves and slipped them into his pocket. “But it’s not cold inside.”
“No, it isn’t.” Marco handed the weapon to one of the others.
“Let’s go meet Daddy Esposito,” Trey replied with a grin, even though his heart rate had kicked up. An ambush might be able to take him if he didn’t have his gloves on. He didn’t know if he was being brave or an idiot like so many of the arrogant bounties he’d taken down throughout the years.
Just got to trust my instincts and training—but I’m taking at least one fucker with me if they try any shit.
Marco chuckled and led Trey inside and down a vase- and statue-filled hallway with an arched ceiling. The hallway led directly to a vast living room. A dapper white-haired man in a sports coat waited in the palatial space.
Trey recognized him instantly, as would anyone with even the most casual of connection to the Vegas underworld. It was Paul Esposito.
Here we go.
The Mafia don nodded toward a chair near him. He looked at Marco. “I’ll call if I need you.”
The other mobsters departed the room.
Doubt he’s gonna cap my ass with all his guys out of the room.
Trey walked over to the indicated chair and took a seat, then folded his hands in his lap and inhaled deeply. This was one time he truly needed Smooth Trey, even if it was annoying to go against his deeply-ingrained speech patterns. He suspected that Paul Esposito would respond to him more positively if he changed the way he talked.
“Trey Garfield,” Paul commented. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.” He looked Trey up and down. “You’re better dressed than a lot of my guys.”
“It’s nice to meet you as well,” Trey replied with a grin. “And I do try to look good, but let’s say this was a big surprise to me. I didn’t expect to get an invitation to meet with you this morning when I got up. I thought your guys had come to kill my ass.”
Paul let out a hearty laugh. “Sorry about that. I would have thought the same thing. Mostly I just wanted to give you time to think about it and see how you’d react.” He waved a hand. “I’ve looked into you, you know. Your past, and how you grew up; the gang you were in. I know all about you. You could say I’m a big fan. I came up hard too, and I made something of myself despite people trying to hold me back.”
What the fuck is all this supposed to mean? Is this motherfucker trying to threaten me, or is he trying to convinc
e me we’re the same kind of man? Better make some shit clear before he gets the wrong idea.
Trey cleared his throat. “I should tell you, Mr. Esposito, that I spoke to your son about his earlier offer. I thought I made our position clear, and the answer I gave him represents the official position of the Brownstone Agency. If you got the big man himself to show up, he’d say the same thing.”
“That’s not what this is about.” Paul shook his head. “And I’d rather not be in the same room as James Brownstone…ever. I respect his power, but to me, it’d be like being in the same room as a tiger, or even a tornado.”
“He is a pretty intense man.” Trey shrugged. “If this ai…isn’t about an alliance, then what is it about?”
“Don’t worry about that. The past is the past, and I understand why you feel the way you do. Quite frankly, your position is fair.” Paul furrowed his brow. “And after what happened to the Harriken, I think everyone in a business like ours understands that sometimes there will be sacrifices if the wrong choices are made.” He chuckled. “You’re too young to remember how different it was, let alone here.”
“Different?” Trey frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“The Mafia was dying in Vegas, especially the Italian Mafia. The Feds had ripped our balls off through the decades, and more vicious groups were cutting into our territory from the opposite side.” The Mafia leader shook his head, faint disgust on his face. “There were still Families, and they had influence, but it wasn’t like the golden days. Then all that shit with Oriceran happened, and everything changed. Opportunities arose, and those who took advantage of those opportunities did well.” He smiled. “That’s what success in life is about: flexibility. That’s why you are doing well. Let’s face it, you were dealt a shit hand, growing up in that neighborhood, but you saw an opportunity in the gang. You followed it up, and then Brownstone gave you another opportunity, and you took it.
“That’s why I like you. Because you’re the kind of man who seizes on an opportunity to improve himself regardless of the situation.”
Despite what he just said, it sounds like this motherfucker’s buttering me up to ask for an alliance again. What, he thinks if he just says how smart I am, I’ll roll over and let him pat my belly?
Trey’s gaze cut around the room. Paul really liked old paintings. Art appreciation was still fairly low on the things Trey cared about.
“I like to think I’m not a dumbass,” Trey explained. “But I’ve made plenty of mistakes in my life, and I’ll make plenty more. Fortunately, I was given chances. Opportunities, like you said.”
“Yes, you were given some chances, or at least, one big chance.” Paul leaned back and inhaled deeply. “Mercy’s a good thing, don’t you think? I was wondering how things would have been different if Brownstone was more like the Silver Ghost.”
Trey’s face tightened. His and Victoria’s thorough ass-kicking at the Silver Ghost’s hands still rubbed him raw months later. It didn’t matter that she was dead.
He asked, “You mean if the big man was a crazy vigilante?”
Paul nodded. “Yes. I’ve seen the kind of things he can do. He could have killed or maimed every single person in your gang to get you out of his neighborhood.”
“Sure, but we always showed him proper respect. James Brownstone understands respect, just like y’all.”
“That’s good to hear.” Paul rubbed his chin. “And you agree on the importance of mercy?”
“Yeah, of course.” Trey nodded. “That’s the way the Brownstone Agency works. A lot of times if it’s a low-level guy, we try to get them to surrender so no one has to get hurt, bounty or bounty hunter. We try to keep our guys under control. Our hope is that our combination of reputation for being badasses as well as professionals who don’t hurt people just for the sake of hurting people will lead to fewer confrontations. I can’t say it always works, but I think it’s helpful.”
“It’s a good strategy.” Paul raised his leg and rested his foot on his knee. “And that mercy and restraint are what I wanted to talk to you about.”
“Yeah?”
“The other day you picked up a bounty, Gino Cantu,” Paul began.
Okay, here we go. He’s all smiles, but he’s pissed that the fucker got picked up.
Trey lifted his chin. “I did, at that. Level two. I understand he’s had some dealings with the Mafia, including the Espositos, but he had a valid bounty. I took him down based on that. Brownstone Agency doesn’t go after people without bounties unless they come after us.”
Paul’s affable smile turned into a frown. “My understanding is that there was an incident during the apprehension. An extreme incident.”
“Another bounty hunter not affiliated with the Brownstone Agency showed up. He initiated his recovery attempt with a grenade. I won’t apologize for that dumbass motherfucker. I beat his ass down for multiple reasons, including the fact that he threw a motherfucking grenade near me.”
Trey assumed that the mobster could handle his normal speech patterns. If you couldn’t call a man a motherfucker for throwing a grenade right next to you, when could you?
Paul shook a finger. “Yes, I heard how you beat the guy up, and that was what I was curious about. So you were just mad about the grenade, then? Or was it more about him trying to jump your bounty? I know your type can get territorial.”
Trying to figure out which bounty hunter to be pissed at, Esposito?
Trey scoffed. “I’m not gonna lie. I was angry about that shit, too, but that wasn’t the main thing that got my fists flying. I don’t know all the details of why, but there was a kid there. I didn’t like the idea of some motherfucker throwing grenades around when there was a kid who could have taken shrapnel. Cantu might have picked his lifestyle and accepted the risk, but that kid didn’t. A little restraint wouldn’t hurt, so I helped the other bounty hunter understand that.”
Paul blew out a breath and smacked his lips. “No hurting kids. That’s a good policy. It’s how we operate, too. No kids. No wives. Not all Families have those policies, but I think there are some lines that shouldn’t be crossed. It’s the difference between being a businessman and being a thug. The world doesn’t need more thugs.”
“I agree, Mr. Esposito.”
I don’t get his angle in all this. I thought he was gonna be pissed about Cantu, but he don’t seem to give a shit. Maybe he just figures Jared’s the one who should get fucked up over it.
“I’m going to tell you something that very few people in this area know, Trey.” Paul stared at him gravely. “It’s going to come out very soon anyway, and I want you to understand how important what happened the other day was.”
Trey frowned, now even more confused.
“Gino Cantu is my son,” Paul explained. “His mom was a waitress at a club I was running back in the day. We had some fun times between the sheets, but it was nothing serious. Then I found out she was knocked up. I told her I couldn’t acknowledge the kid.” He looked uncomfortable. “My dearly departed wife, God rest her soul, would have never forgiven me, but I made sure he was taken care of, and when the time came a few years back, I made sure he had opportunities to get involved with the family business. But I had to be careful.” He frowned. “Very few people know who Gino actually is. Even he didn’t know for most of his life. It was something his mom agreed to a long time ago. Originally, it was to keep them safe, and after that it was just because he didn’t know, and it was too much a dick move to come in years later and say, ‘Hey, I’m your dad.’ I let him know the truth recently, and we’re trying to understand each other better. Soon I’m going to let everyone know, which is why I feel comfortable telling you.”
Trey blinked as he processed the information. “I guess it was a good thing that I didn’t rough up Gino, then. But you got to understand, it is Brownstone policy. I didn’t have a clue who he was.”
“That doesn’t matter.” Paul threaded his fingers together. “And that little boy you were s
o concerned about is my grandson.” His face darkened. “If the other bounty hunter had hurt him, I would have made him pay, but it wouldn’t have mattered. Decades in this business have taught me that revenge doesn’t bring anyone back.”
“Shit.” Trey blinked. “Damn.”
“Exactly. Your restraint was not only respectful of my Family, but I heard how you threw yourself on Gino. Your fancy magic might have saved him from getting killed, and if you had not taken on that other bounty hunter, my grandson might have been hurt, or worse.” Paul smiled. “So, no, if Gino had to be taken down on a bounty, I’m glad it was by you, Trey.
“But here’s the thing. As far as I’m concerned, I owe you a favor. A big favor, and I’m a man who always pays his favors.”
Trey shook his head. “I don’t know about that. I was just doing my job. The Brownstone Agency strives to be something more than a bunch of thugs, you know what I’m saying? Bounty hunters; no more, no less.”
“Just think about it,” Paul replied. “And no matter what you say, I owe you a favor. Family men always pay their debts, and I’m sure you can find a use for it at some point in the future.” He chuckled. “And don’t worry. I understand this doesn’t change anything between the Esposito Family or any other Mafia Family and the Brownstone Agency.” He glanced at his watch. “But I’m sorry. I have to wrap this up. I’ve got meetings I need to go to, but I thought it was important that I talk to you face-to-face about this.”
Trey just stared at the mob boss, at a rare loss for words. Finally, he managed to open his mouth. “Thanks.”
Damn. This is some shit I never thought would happen today.
Chapter Twenty-Three
It’s good to be back home, James thought. No weird-ass monsters. No crazy forests. No walled-in shit patrolled by soldiers. Tomb raiding leads to weird places. It’s probably a good thing that Shay’s dialing that shit down.
Shadow Of The Ring: An Urban Fantasy Action Adventure (The Unbelievable Mr. Brownstone Book 16) Page 18
