Paradise Burns by J. P. Sumner

Pellaggio. Well, I think I said it to him. I could see three of him, so I
was playing it safe and talking to the middle one. ‘I don’t give a shit who you
are, or how much of this city you own.’
    He seemed calm, despite the fact I was sat
in front of him looking like a car crash victim with a gun in my hand.
     ‘You arrogant sonofabitch! You’ve cost
me millions!’ said Pellaggio, standing and slamming his palms onto the desk in
frustration and anger.
    ‘Shut your mouth before you give
yourself a heart attack, you old prick,’ I replied.
    I was in no mood for another lecture.
Right now, medical attention and a shot of single malt were one and two on my
list of priorities.
    ‘Let me save you the trouble of giving
me your mafia boss rant,’ I began. ‘You’re in way over your head. You didn’t
properly research Jackson’s involvement in all this. You have no idea what you’re
up against. That was your first mistake. Your second is that right now, you’re
dangerously close to underestimating me, which will not end well for you.’
    There was silence in the room. Manhattan
hadn’t moved or said anything since I sat down.
    ‘My advice to you - cut your losses and
move on. Find somewhere else to expand your empire.’
     ‘Jimmy,’ said Pellaggio, after a long
silence. ‘Fix this.’
    He pointed a finger at me as he spoke. I’ve
got to hand it to the guy, he wasn’t easily intimidated. I can understand why –
guy like him, head of a crime syndicate with half the city on his payroll and
more money than half the country put together. He’s probably been building this
empire of his since he was a kid. People quake at the very mention of his name.
Why would I worry him?
    Manhattan looked at me. Then he looked
at my gun. He remained calm and I could see him planning his next move.
    ‘Adrian, I don’t think you fully grasp
the position you’re in. Mr. Pellaggio requires the deeds to that land. Life
will become very difficult for you if you don’t do what we’ve paid you to do.
You say Jackson is dead? That’s fine. But you need to find a way to get your
hands on those deeds.’
    ‘Jimmy, let me save us both some time. You
can’t make me do shit. We’re done here. You can keep my fee, I don’t care. That
corpse out there was probably the best guy you had, which means we both know
there’s no point sending anyone else after me. I see either of you again, I
will kill you. And it will be slow, painful and horrific.’
    Manhattan stared at me. He believed me,
but I could see he was conflicted. Probably because his boss told him to handle
it, and he did anything but.
    ‘There’s nowhere for you to hide in this
city where we can’t find you,’ he said, tapping into some hidden reserve of
confidence. ‘If you start down this road, it will be the end of you, Adrian. I
can promise you that. Mr. Pellaggio doesn’t forgive, or forget. You should know
that better than anyone – it’s the very reason you’re here.’
    ‘So, what, you’re gonna hire me to kill
myself?’ I scoffed in disbelief. ‘You fucking idiot. Take a look around, Jimmy.
You hired me because I’m the absolute best at what I do. There’s no-one to
bring in who can take me on, and we all know you’ve got no-one on your payroll
who can do it. How’s about you quit with the empty threats, accept defeat like
a man and call it a day, yeah?’
    Manhattan glanced at Pellaggio, who was
visibly livid. I suspect more so at the fact he knew he couldn’t win.
    ‘Let me explain something to you, kid,’
said Pellaggio, his voice was condescending and full of anger, which he was struggling
to restrain. ‘You need to fucking appreciate exactly who I am. You talk about
my payroll – my payroll includes the police. And the local officials. And a lot
of hired help up and down the West Coast.’
    ‘Am I meant to be impressed?’ I replied.
    ‘It’s not just this city you can’t hide
in,’ he continued. ‘It’s the state, the time zone,