I burst out laughing. Even though my entire world felt like it was crumbling, I had to save face. "I'm not a boss. I mean nothing to the families. I mean nothing to the FBI."
"See?" He nodded. "That is where you are wrong." He puffed again on his cigar and set it on a dish then pulled a small syringe from his pocket. "You are blood, and blood always fights for blood. You will draw out one, if not all, of the leaders. I shall finish what my idiot son and Director Smith started. I will destroy the heads of the families. I will take over what should have been mine in the first place, Italian scum," he spat.
"Save the dramatics," I hissed.
"You have control of seven of our docks in Seattle. Seven." He ground his teeth. "You've infiltrated every single major harbor in the United States. How can I run drugs if the Italians are constantly trouncing all over my territory?"
"Well, here's a thought." I leaned forward as much as I could. "Go back to Russia. This is our home, our right. We've been here a hell of a lot longer than you and have a shitload more money. Just try to take out the families — cut off one head… two more will appear. Besides, killing me would be doing them a favor. Believe me."
"Oh yes." He nodded. "Double agent. You've been a bad man, haven't you?"
I was really tired of this conversation.
"It matters not." He flicked the syringe with his forefinger. "I won't have to kill them. You'll do that for me."
"Oh, I will?"
His grin was malicious. "Truth serum is often misused."
I squirmed in my seat, my eyes frantic for a weapon I could use to kill him. I stalled instead. "I imagine you're going to tell me why."
"Of course." He chuckled, taking two steps closer to me. "It rarely works when asked direct questions, but the power of suggestion? Oh now, that is a different beast entirely. I inject this..." He held up the needle. "…and I tell you so many falsehoods you forget your own damn name. I imagine if you're weak enough, I could even convince you that your cousin Nixon was Satan himself."
"Doubt it." I jerked at my hand restraints.
He sighed and with a nod set down the needle. "You know, you're right. What am I thinking? Truth serum!" He laughed loudly. "Sleep, dehydration — those are even better — but why don't I inject you first, cloud your vision, cloud your logic a bit before we begin, yes? Oh, and I do hope you enjoy the heat."
"What?"
He clapped his hands.
The fireplace turned on.
And a loud noise sounded.
"Hear that?" He cupped his ear. "The heat has just been turned on in this glorious state-of-the-art prison. The walls are triple insulated, the door lets no air in or out, by this time tomorrow morning, you'll be begging for release. You'll be so dehydrated you can't see straight, and the best part? Just when you're ready to take a nap, to escape the hell I've put you in..." He pulled a black collar from his pocket and fastened it around my neck.
I tried to bite him, but he was too fast.
"…I'll simply shock you awake. Let the games begin. I imagine it will take them at least twenty-four hours to locate you. Another twenty-four to form a plan, and by then, well, let's just say by then I'll have you eating out of my hand. Just think!" He started waltzing toward the door. "In the end, you will betray them all, just like you should have a month ago."
"I won't," I vowed.
He didn't turn around. He simply answered, "We'll see."
I was trying to figure out why I was strapped next to the piano, facing the door, when the heat started searing my back.
I was backed against the fireplace.
My kidneys.
"Shit," I hissed. He really was trying to dehydrate me. I closed my eyes and tried to meditate on keeping my breathing even.
The guys would come; I prayed they wouldn't.
I prayed they'd stay and just let me die. Funny, this morning I'd dreamed about following Andi into the afterlife, and now, I would be preceding her.
"Don't," I whispered. "Don't come for me."
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Sergio
MY HEAD WAS SO HEAVY IT didn't even feel like it was part of my body anymore; it hung forward. A beeping sounded, and then I was zapped twice around the neck, stunned so hard that I had to clench my teeth.
The fire continued to lick at my back. Sweat drenched the borrowed shirt and jeans they'd put me in.
I was thankful they were larger than I needed, at least providing some vent for the air to come up my back.
I was tired, so incredibly tired that my eyes were having trouble focusing. It didn't help that the bastard had injected me again with whatever the hell was in that syringe.
Voices sounded down the hall.
Either that, or I was truly going insane.
The door opened.
"Twenty-four hours have passed…" Petrov had two heads.
I blinked, trying to clear the image. Nope, still two heads.
"…and your friends have not come."
"Told you." Sweat dripped into my mouth.
"The room is over a hundred degrees, the fire still roaring. I bet water sounds like a slice of heaven."