Page 9 of Bitter Poetry

“She’s not my goddamned girl.” Dante scowls, his eyes passing over the crowd and coming to a stop at the swimwear model who I thought he had broken up with. “Which part of leave the fucking house did she not understand?”

“You broke up with her?”

“It was over before she decided to post a damn photo of us on Instagram. Someone must of informed Cedro. He was not impressed.”

Alright then…

“Not that one. The good girl.”

There is a split second before understanding blooms and death enters his eyes.

“She’s just a child. I’ll fucking kill the fuck.” He’s reaching for the gun he rarely carries and definitely isn’t tonight. Dante’s not even a hands-on kind of guy.

I cut him off. “Dealt with. Jero bagged him and sent him home. Ettore was already set to castrate him and probably will for real now.”

“Fuck! Why was he even here? Wait, why does Ettore want to castrate him?”

I probably shouldn’t have dropped that part while Dante is all riled up. Still, it’s fun to see him cracking like this when he’s usually so contained.

He’ll probably find out soon enough anyway. “Ettore’s been covering up Cosmo’s perversions for a while, so I learned tonight.”

“Does the Don know?”

I shake my head. “Ettore is keeping it under wraps.”

Dante nods, his scowl still firmly in place. “Let me know what Ettore does.”

He disapproved of me working under Ettore’s enforcer at first. He’s seeing the value today.

CHAPTER 4

CHRISTIAN

The party is over. But I’m also not dismissed for the night, so I hang out with the boys in the strip club surveillance room while Jero goes and speaks to Ettore in the adjoining office. I’m a nobody in Ettore’s eyes so he rarely speaks to me directly.

“Cosmo fuck up again?” one of the security guys asks, thumbing toward the back stairs, where I assume Cosmo has been taken.

“Yeah. Caught him jacking off behind a potted fern at the Don’s daughter’s party.”

He makes a low whistle.

Jero exits Ettore’s office, interrupting further discussion, and his eyes latching on me. “We’re up.”

“Laters,” I say to the guys, following Jero down the stairs. He doesn’t head to the usual interrogation room, but one further on that houses a gurney and lots of white cabinets. It’s giving off a medical vibe.

“Are we operating on someone?”

Before Jero can answer, the door opens, and a man enters wearing a rumpled suit.

“Evening, Temple,” Jero says.

“Evening, Jero.” Temple loosens his tie with rough, angry movements before he pulls out a metal medical table on wheels from where it was housed against the wall. He begins rummaging through the cabinets, pulling out items, and placing them on the top.

Well, color me curious…

The door opens yet again. I step aside as a couple of boys drag Cosmo in. He’s naked and gagged. They don’t miss a beat as they strap him down on the gurney.

Meanwhile, Jero takes a pair of rubber gloves from a little box on the wall and fights to put them on over his big hands. Finished with Cosmo, the boys exit the room. Temple grimaces and takes a seat on the plastic chair against the far wall.