Shadow Rider
Page 171
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“What happened to you this time, Bruno?” Francesca asked. “Where’s Theresa?”
Bruno closed the door and turned to face them. “I’m sorry, Francesca. Really sorry. I tried to refuse and they beat the shit out of me, put a gun to my grandmother’s head, and Emmanuelle told me to cooperate with them.”
Enrica spun around, her hand going to the gun tucked beneath her shoulder in a holster, but it was too late. A man stepped out of the coat closet behind her and struck her over the head with the butt of his gun. She dropped to the floor like a deadweight. Francesca rushed to her, but the man caught her arm in a tight grip.
“Mr. Anthon requests your presence at a very special event, Francesca,” he greeted.
She recognized him immediately and her heart began to pound. She knew she went pale because the blood drained out of her face. “Harold McFarland. It appears Barry can’t even come to Chicago without bringing his entire entourage. Where’s Theresa?”
“The old lady? Don’t worry about her. You should be worried about yourself and your new friends.” He spat on the floor. “I’m going to enjoy burning down that bullshit deli you worked in. Your boss seemed to think you’re some kind of saint. And the old lady thinks the same. They haven’t seen the havoc you create yet.” He laughed. “I’m going to enjoy showing them just what you’re famous for.”
He put a hand to her back and shoved her toward the bedroom. Another man—one she recognized from Barry’s crew, Arnold Sumi—thrust Bruno in front of him. As he passed Enrica’s crumpled body, he kicked her hard in the ribs.
Harold laughed. “You’re such a prick, Arnold. Get Jimmy to tie the bitch up.”
Francesca had seen the blood coating Enrica’s dark, sleek hair and had been worried they’d hit her too hard and killed her, but they wouldn’t tie her up if she was dead.
“There isn’t any need to hurt anyone, Harold. I’ll go with you.”
“Damn right you’ll go with me,” Harold said. “You don’t have any choice, not with a gun to Grandma’s head. And then there’s your friend. I’ve had a difficult time keeping the boys off of that one. You don’t see bitches like that every day. We’re bringing her along. She’s going to be the main entertainment for us while you entertain the boss.”
Francesca turned her head to see Emmanuelle slumped over in a chair, hands tied behind her back and blood trickling down her face from a laceration on her temple. There was a bruise on the side of her face and her dark gray shirt was torn beneath her pin-striped jacket, revealing the swell of her breasts.
On the floor, groaning, was another of Barry’s crew, Marc Jonsen. He had pushed himself up into a sitting position and was holding his face. Blood poured from his nose and both eyes were swollen. Clearly he’d been the one to tear open Emmanuelle’s blouse and she’d head-butted him.
“Are you hurt?” Francesca asked Theresa. The elderly woman was crying and clutching rosary beads. The blanket was pulled up nearly to her neck.
She shook her head. “Bruno . . .” She trailed off with a little sob.
Francesca turned to Harold. “What are you going to do with them?”
“Lucky for them the boss wants a message delivered to your boyfriend. You and the other bitch are coming with us.”
Francesca glanced at Emmanuelle. Her nod was almost imperceptible, but there was no mistaking the wink she gave Francesca. She appeared nearly out of it to their captors, but clearly she wasn’t as bad off as she was making herself out to be and that made some of the knots in Francesca’s stomach loosen just a little.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
The wind slammed into the cars as they made their way toward the estate Barry Anthon had rented. Emmanuelle was in the car behind Francesca and that made Francesca very uneasy. She knew Stefano’s sister could take care of herself far better than she could in the situation, but Barry wouldn’t want Francesca killed, not until he had Cella’s cell phone safely in his hands. But Emme was vulnerable.
Stefano and his brothers had humiliated Barry in front of Francesca and Emmanuelle. He wasn’t a man who would forgive such an insult. He believed himself to be superior to everyone else. He felt entitled to take anything and everything he wanted. Barry would retaliate against the Ferraro family, and what better way than to humiliate Emme? His men were animals. Monsters. They destroyed lives at Barry’s whim and enjoyed themselves immensely while doing so. Francesca had no doubt that those men were tormenting Emme in the car, especially Marc. He would want retribution for Emmanuelle defending herself.
Bruno closed the door and turned to face them. “I’m sorry, Francesca. Really sorry. I tried to refuse and they beat the shit out of me, put a gun to my grandmother’s head, and Emmanuelle told me to cooperate with them.”
Enrica spun around, her hand going to the gun tucked beneath her shoulder in a holster, but it was too late. A man stepped out of the coat closet behind her and struck her over the head with the butt of his gun. She dropped to the floor like a deadweight. Francesca rushed to her, but the man caught her arm in a tight grip.
“Mr. Anthon requests your presence at a very special event, Francesca,” he greeted.
She recognized him immediately and her heart began to pound. She knew she went pale because the blood drained out of her face. “Harold McFarland. It appears Barry can’t even come to Chicago without bringing his entire entourage. Where’s Theresa?”
“The old lady? Don’t worry about her. You should be worried about yourself and your new friends.” He spat on the floor. “I’m going to enjoy burning down that bullshit deli you worked in. Your boss seemed to think you’re some kind of saint. And the old lady thinks the same. They haven’t seen the havoc you create yet.” He laughed. “I’m going to enjoy showing them just what you’re famous for.”
He put a hand to her back and shoved her toward the bedroom. Another man—one she recognized from Barry’s crew, Arnold Sumi—thrust Bruno in front of him. As he passed Enrica’s crumpled body, he kicked her hard in the ribs.
Harold laughed. “You’re such a prick, Arnold. Get Jimmy to tie the bitch up.”
Francesca had seen the blood coating Enrica’s dark, sleek hair and had been worried they’d hit her too hard and killed her, but they wouldn’t tie her up if she was dead.
“There isn’t any need to hurt anyone, Harold. I’ll go with you.”
“Damn right you’ll go with me,” Harold said. “You don’t have any choice, not with a gun to Grandma’s head. And then there’s your friend. I’ve had a difficult time keeping the boys off of that one. You don’t see bitches like that every day. We’re bringing her along. She’s going to be the main entertainment for us while you entertain the boss.”
Francesca turned her head to see Emmanuelle slumped over in a chair, hands tied behind her back and blood trickling down her face from a laceration on her temple. There was a bruise on the side of her face and her dark gray shirt was torn beneath her pin-striped jacket, revealing the swell of her breasts.
On the floor, groaning, was another of Barry’s crew, Marc Jonsen. He had pushed himself up into a sitting position and was holding his face. Blood poured from his nose and both eyes were swollen. Clearly he’d been the one to tear open Emmanuelle’s blouse and she’d head-butted him.
“Are you hurt?” Francesca asked Theresa. The elderly woman was crying and clutching rosary beads. The blanket was pulled up nearly to her neck.
She shook her head. “Bruno . . .” She trailed off with a little sob.
Francesca turned to Harold. “What are you going to do with them?”
“Lucky for them the boss wants a message delivered to your boyfriend. You and the other bitch are coming with us.”
Francesca glanced at Emmanuelle. Her nod was almost imperceptible, but there was no mistaking the wink she gave Francesca. She appeared nearly out of it to their captors, but clearly she wasn’t as bad off as she was making herself out to be and that made some of the knots in Francesca’s stomach loosen just a little.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
The wind slammed into the cars as they made their way toward the estate Barry Anthon had rented. Emmanuelle was in the car behind Francesca and that made Francesca very uneasy. She knew Stefano’s sister could take care of herself far better than she could in the situation, but Barry wouldn’t want Francesca killed, not until he had Cella’s cell phone safely in his hands. But Emme was vulnerable.
Stefano and his brothers had humiliated Barry in front of Francesca and Emmanuelle. He wasn’t a man who would forgive such an insult. He believed himself to be superior to everyone else. He felt entitled to take anything and everything he wanted. Barry would retaliate against the Ferraro family, and what better way than to humiliate Emme? His men were animals. Monsters. They destroyed lives at Barry’s whim and enjoyed themselves immensely while doing so. Francesca had no doubt that those men were tormenting Emme in the car, especially Marc. He would want retribution for Emmanuelle defending herself.
