like a damn puppet.
She reached for him but he was faster...his hands locking her in place against the wall, a vase crashing to the floor and shattering beside them. But he only held her there long enough to get attention before setting her loose. His voice, when he finally spoke, was a low, bitter, command. “Start acting like a Vinetti or get the fuck out.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“You told her not to bring feds here?” Jimmie asked, offering Mitch a glass of water as he sank down onto the couch.
“I can fight outside forces,” Mitch murmured. “I don't stand a chance fighting inside ones.”
Jimmie nodded. “So that's it, then. What sets you off. I've wondered. Being unable to control a situation.”
Mitch winced. It was a direct hit. He prided himself on hiding his emotions from everyone – IOC and mafia alike. It kept him alive. That he'd allowed Jimmie an opening as large as this one was hard to swallow. Maybe he was getting too old for this, too complacent after years of safety. He dragged a hand through his hair. “I need outta here.”
“Sounds wonderful,” Jimmie grinned. “But have you forgotten there's a hundred feds going through every room of this place?”
“Yeah and until they have something they can't arrest us.” He stood up and grabbed his jacket. He wanted to be alone but figured Jimmie needed an escape as much as he did right now. “You coming?”
“Where to?”
“We'll figure it out when we get there.”
Less than a half hour later, the two men were several glasses down when Teddy stormed into the aging Italian eatery with his hand perched on his gun.
“Twenty minutes? Fall asleep on the job or something?” Mitch asked.
“The GPS server on the car when down,” Teddy said, waving at the crew he'd brought with him to fan out around the restaurant.
“We disabled it,” Jimmie offered and then tipped a bottle of whiskey Teddy's direction. “Join us?”
“No, sir, I can't-”
“If I know you, you brought no less than nine guys with you. I think we're safe.”
“Eleven,” Teddy nodded and took a seat at their table.
“How'd you find us?” Jimmie asked as he poured him a drink.
“That guy in the corner?” Teddy nodded to a shaky looking thug who kept glancing their way. “He owes you money. He called in to swear he was going to pay next week. You two must've scared the guy shitless showing up here.”
“Ashli?” Mitch asked. Now that his anger had been tempered by liquor he could risk worrying for her safety.
“Locked in her suite. I put two guys on her room but the feds are still swarming so no one's coming near the place.”
“Markesi?”
“Also locked in his suite. Grabbed a handful of the old goombahs from the party and they've got a poker game going. Last I checked he was winning.”
“What was the warrant for anyway?” Mitch asked and accepted the trademark yellow paper that Teddy pulled out of his pocket. He hesitated before reading it, raising it to Jimmie.
“My business is now yours. Let's hear it.”
“Death of Jeffrey Coppell.” Mitch raised an eyebrow expectantly. “Why would they think you have anything to do with that?”
“They arrested you for it,” Jimmie laughed. “Seems like you brought the warrants down this time around.”
“Nah, he was cleared,” Teddy interrupted. He nodded toward Jimmie. “You off Coppell and get Mitch on your payroll and now business is booming. Seems a logical train of thought to me.”
“Then they're idiots,” Jimmie murmured.
Mitch sank back in his chair. The IOC knew Jimmie had nothing to do with it which meant they were searching for something else. The question was what. “What'd they harass Sonny for?”
“Trafficking narcotics,” Jimmie offered snickering. “You'd think they could come up with something better than that, wouldn't you?”
“Pardon my question but isn't this why you had the security meeting tonight? To figure out what the feds are up
She reached for him but he was faster...his hands locking her in place against the wall, a vase crashing to the floor and shattering beside them. But he only held her there long enough to get attention before setting her loose. His voice, when he finally spoke, was a low, bitter, command. “Start acting like a Vinetti or get the fuck out.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“You told her not to bring feds here?” Jimmie asked, offering Mitch a glass of water as he sank down onto the couch.
“I can fight outside forces,” Mitch murmured. “I don't stand a chance fighting inside ones.”
Jimmie nodded. “So that's it, then. What sets you off. I've wondered. Being unable to control a situation.”
Mitch winced. It was a direct hit. He prided himself on hiding his emotions from everyone – IOC and mafia alike. It kept him alive. That he'd allowed Jimmie an opening as large as this one was hard to swallow. Maybe he was getting too old for this, too complacent after years of safety. He dragged a hand through his hair. “I need outta here.”
“Sounds wonderful,” Jimmie grinned. “But have you forgotten there's a hundred feds going through every room of this place?”
“Yeah and until they have something they can't arrest us.” He stood up and grabbed his jacket. He wanted to be alone but figured Jimmie needed an escape as much as he did right now. “You coming?”
“Where to?”
“We'll figure it out when we get there.”
Less than a half hour later, the two men were several glasses down when Teddy stormed into the aging Italian eatery with his hand perched on his gun.
“Twenty minutes? Fall asleep on the job or something?” Mitch asked.
“The GPS server on the car when down,” Teddy said, waving at the crew he'd brought with him to fan out around the restaurant.
“We disabled it,” Jimmie offered and then tipped a bottle of whiskey Teddy's direction. “Join us?”
“No, sir, I can't-”
“If I know you, you brought no less than nine guys with you. I think we're safe.”
“Eleven,” Teddy nodded and took a seat at their table.
“How'd you find us?” Jimmie asked as he poured him a drink.
“That guy in the corner?” Teddy nodded to a shaky looking thug who kept glancing their way. “He owes you money. He called in to swear he was going to pay next week. You two must've scared the guy shitless showing up here.”
“Ashli?” Mitch asked. Now that his anger had been tempered by liquor he could risk worrying for her safety.
“Locked in her suite. I put two guys on her room but the feds are still swarming so no one's coming near the place.”
“Markesi?”
“Also locked in his suite. Grabbed a handful of the old goombahs from the party and they've got a poker game going. Last I checked he was winning.”
“What was the warrant for anyway?” Mitch asked and accepted the trademark yellow paper that Teddy pulled out of his pocket. He hesitated before reading it, raising it to Jimmie.
“My business is now yours. Let's hear it.”
“Death of Jeffrey Coppell.” Mitch raised an eyebrow expectantly. “Why would they think you have anything to do with that?”
“They arrested you for it,” Jimmie laughed. “Seems like you brought the warrants down this time around.”
“Nah, he was cleared,” Teddy interrupted. He nodded toward Jimmie. “You off Coppell and get Mitch on your payroll and now business is booming. Seems a logical train of thought to me.”
“Then they're idiots,” Jimmie murmured.
Mitch sank back in his chair. The IOC knew Jimmie had nothing to do with it which meant they were searching for something else. The question was what. “What'd they harass Sonny for?”
“Trafficking narcotics,” Jimmie offered snickering. “You'd think they could come up with something better than that, wouldn't you?”
“Pardon my question but isn't this why you had the security meeting tonight? To figure out what the feds are up
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