“You’re not only delusional, you’re crazy as fuck,” Justin muttered. “There’s no way in hell we’re giving you Nakia even if she killed three enforcers of the mob.”
“Who did you think killed them? The Boogieman?” Baldacci scoffed angrily.
Justin scowled as he thought about the crime screen from the day before. He wasn’t ready to voice what he knew to be true, despite how illogical he was being. It didn’t matter his struggle with that conclusion, it appeared that the mob boss had no problem coming to that conclusion. “What makes you so sure that she’s even capable of that?”
“You really should get to know the women you’re screwing. First, you had no clue what a fuckin’ slag your wife is, and now you have no idea how much of a weapon’s expert your new woman is. You need to get rid of that punk-ass flaw.”
Justin clenched his teeth, unable to deny the mobster’s observation. He knew Nakia as a lawyer, and he hadn’t dug deeper.
“So, what if Nakia killed them?” Colt drawled. “Those men would be alive today if you hadn’t sent them to kidnap her. You alone are responsible for their deaths.”
“No! She killed them!” Baldacci’s voice shook with rage. “And if you don’t give her over to me, I will start killing some very important people in your life.”
“Cut the bullshit, Baldacci,” Justin growled. “We’re not giving you shit. Who was he? Who was the punk who died yesterday going after Nakia? Was he your brother? Your cousin? Whoever the fuck he was, he was there at your orders. What the fuck did you think was going to happen when you came after one of our women? In case you haven’t noticed, they’re not fuckin’ wallflowers. You killed whoever that bastard was.”
Baldacci charged him. “Mother…!”
Justin easily deflected the oncoming charge, and despite the mobster’s almost three-hundred-pound frame and being just over six feet height, Justin grabbed him by throat and slammed him hard on his back to the carpeted floor.
The clicking sound of guns being drawn and cocked split the air.
Justin had his redesigned Sig in his palm and nuzzled against Baldacci’s forehead before anyone could blink. The Sig was an additional gift from Imani. He ignored the guns of Baldacci’s men pointing at him and focused on the pissed-off face of the mobster. “Just so you know before you piss me off some more. I haven’t slept in four fuckin’ days and have no patience for this bullshit. So, think fast before I end your ass right here.”
Baldacci blanched and swallowed hard.
“Who do you have that you think we would hand over our women for?” Colt was embracing the calm-brother act that Justin was sure was unnerving Baldacci. He had to know that, of the two of them, Colt was by far the more volatile brother.
Still on his back, the mobster stared up at Colt as though he wasn’t sure who the hell he was.
Justin almost shook his head in disgust, but instead he growled, “Start talkin’!” He pressed the gun harder into the mobster’s forehead, ensuring that there would be a permanent mark.
“We have your parents,” he wheezed out.
“How do we know you’re telling the truth?” Colt demanded.
“Marco, show the man,” Baldacci ordered.
Marco walked forward and pushed an iPad toward Colt.
“They have Mom and Dad in a large room, looks like a warehouse, shackled to a chair.”
“Where is the warehouse, Baldacci?” Justin made sure the bastard knew he wasn’t fucking around by punching him in the nose, making sure to break it.
“Argh!” Baldacci screamed like a wounded animal.
His men rushed forward.
‘Back the fuck up!” Colt warned.
Justin wanted to smile at his older brother’s stance. He had his own custom tactical Glocks in his hands and looked as though he would be more than happy to pop off the first fucker that came toward them.
“Where the fuck are my parents?” Justin ignored the blood pouring from Baldacci’s broken nose and deliberately tapped it to get the mobster’s attention.
“Wait, why can’t I see my parents’ faces?” Colt looked at the monitor again.
“They’re where you’ll never find them if something happens to me,” he gurgled out. “And we have them turned for their own safety.”
“There’s nothing here to help locate them, Colonel.” The FBI agent, a friend of Colt’s, came into view, surprising Baldacci and his men. Andrew McAllister had served under Colt on one of his Special Forces teams during the Iraq and Afghanistan wars. Colt had called Agent McAllister to ensure the law was on their side if shit went sideways. Justin liked the agent, called Mac by Colt. The guy was old school and was an honorable man. Despite Mac’s job as an FBI agent, Justin had encountered him on covert operations that he was sure were well outside the FBI’s authority. On more than one operation, the brass had sent Agent Mac in to enter the enemy’s camp for reconnaissance before anyone else. The guy would go in, get intel that Justin thought was impossible to get in such a short space of time, and leave a clear path of dead bodies for their team to go in and complete their assignments. The agent always worked alone and was gone once the team returned from whatever mission they were on, only to return again on another mission months later and in some other fucked-up situation the brass found themselves in. Agent McAllister had a dark side, and Justin was more than happy that the guy was with them, especially with their parents involved.
“Where are they, asshole?” Justin pressed the gun against Baldacci’s broken nose.
“Aaargh!” Baldacci screamed.
“Stop that fuckin’ racket and tell me what I need to know,” Justin growled.
“Andre won’t call in for another few hours,” Marco said.
“Shut the fuck up!” Baldacci roared.
Justin laughed. “You’d better pray that your men don’t hurt my parents in any way, or you’re fucked.”
Baldacci glared at him with pure hatred.
“Let’s get out of here,” Colt muttered coolly. He gripped Baldacci’s arm by the bicep and twisted his arm in an angle a contortionist would find challenging.
Baldacci gritted his teeth. Through the sweat pouring down his face and damp hair over his eyes, Baldacci’s gaze promised retribution. “My men will never let you leave here.”
“You obviously haven’t gotten the message,” Colt muttered as he helped Baldacci painfully to his feet. “You’re going to enjoy our hospitality until our parents are returned to us.”
“No!” Marco, who seemed to be the spokesman again, stepped forward to try to stop Colt from dragging Baldacci.
Mac cut him down at the knees before the guy could take two steps toward them.
Justin got a chill from Mac’s cold expression. Baldacci’s man had taken a bullet to the knee and was screaming his ass off, but Mac acted as though nothing had happened.
“You will pay for that!” Baldacci roared.