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He gave her their coordinates and details, hung up, and holstered his phone.
“What’d she say?”
“She’ll be here.” He gave the rundown of the Sugar-Smooth ammo airport connection.
“Anything else?” Jared asked, not looking at him.
“Anything else? No.” What was up with those two? He shook his head, keeping his eyes on the Town Car. “What are we doing? Playing telephone?”
Cash watched until the black Town Car was through the gates and Nic was on her own, as planned. She’d do all right. She’d be fine. They had listening devices everywhere. Parker was listening now, and Roman could tune in on the receiver in the Hummer he’d taken.
Still, Cash’s stomach twisted. Jared spun in his boots, yanking his attention back to the here and now. They had a mobster to work over. Cash cracked his knuckles and watched Jared rub his hands together, seconds from opening the closet door.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Cash took a deep breath after his turn on the Gianori piece of crap. He watched Jared wrench Emilio’s twisted arms high behind his head. The bastard and his mobbed-up family would pay for taking Nicola away from him a decade ago, for trying to take out Nic and Roman’s parents, and for blowing up his damn truck. Whatever Jared had planned would be too nice, and Jared was a bastard’s bastard, trained in ways that made sadistic fucks cry for their mommies.
Blood trickled out of Emilio’s nose. The punch hadn’t been enough. Pummeling his face into the asphalt wouldn’t have done it either, but if the piece of shit couldn’t talk, he wouldn’t be much good.
Sugar rolled into the hangar in a nondescript white van with no rear windows. Maybe the woman knew what they had planned. Either way, Cash’d have to commend her on her choice of rides.
“Smart choice.” Jared beat him to it, handing out compliments for maybe the first time in his life.
Tall boots capped Sugar’s knees. Her short skirt barely covered her thighs. The effect made Cash double-take, if only to wonder where she hid her concealed piece.
She blew a bubble of bright pink gum that matched the color of her lips. “So what’s the dealio?”
“This is Fuckface Junior.” Jared shook Emilio to make a point. “He and Senior, along with their brothers Dickhead and Cock-for-Brains have done a lot of wrong recently, starting with a little incident with Nicola ten years ago and culminating with a plastics project that we’re still sorting out.”
“That’s Emilio Gianori.” Sugar looked more bored by the second.
“You watch the Mobster channel on Direct TV or something?” Jared asked, squinting in mistrust.
“Yeah, something like that.” She smirked. “Beats the hell out ofCOPSreruns.
So this has to do with Nicola’s witness protection history?”
Jared and Cash paused.
She continued. “And Nicola would want something to prosecute him on. Do you have something, or is this the Titan version of investigation protocol?”
Emilio spat toward his boots, and Cash’s hands itched to fight. “What do you know about Nic?”
Sugar cleared her throat. “Better question, cowboy. Is someone going to arrest this fucker?”
Jared grumbled to Cash. Arresting Emilio right now wasn’t in their plans. Nor was detaining him in a way any law enforcement agency would approve of.
Emilio struggled against Jared’s nasty arm hold and shouted, “You want to know our plans for your girl? She’d have to watch her parents—”
“Wait,” Sugar barked.
What the fuck?
Jared shook the mobster. “Ignore her. Keep talking, asshole, and we might not string you up to an electrical ass probe.”
“Goddamn it, Jared. Hold the fuck on.” Sugar raised her voice, and they raised eyebrows at the vamped up woman with her too-glossy lips and bubble gum habit.
“Sugar,” Jared growled. “Get out of here. If you can’t handle—”